I Was Here

The above portrait is of a lovely young woman named Gavia. She tells me her name is Latin for “loon.” Her father is an artist who specializes in birds. I love the way artists think. She would have been just as lovely being named Jessica or Cindy, but she would not have been the same person. Growing up with a name like Gavia must be interesting. No one would take your name for granted, and you would probably be asked about it constantly. Being able to connect to your father in this way probably makes you think differently about your own identity. You are certain to be one of a kind wherever you go. You are connected to art in a way that a Tom or a Robert never will be. A father who would name his daughter so would be sure to be a loving father. The connection probably started before she was even born. Lucky Gavia.

But, without a name, what does the portrait say about who she is? To be honest, I don’t know who she is, so all I had to go by was her physiognomy and her energy and the brief bit of conversation that we shared. Portraits of old used to include clues as to the wealth, status and temperament of the person portrayed. Portraits were meant to flatter the subject. This portrait lends very little in that regard. But the color I chose for the background reflects the emotion I felt in looking at Gavia, and that makes this portrait feel successful. She was posed against a white wall, and initially the background was a neutral grayish tone. But it did not reflect her energy. As I thought about the incomplete portrait for several weeks without working on it, I thought about the color that would portray her energy against the muted alizarin of the futon on which she sat and which would tie in the blue of her shirt and the ochre pillow.

Colors are like musical chords. A major chord is generally perceived as being of a positive emotion, happiness, joy. A minor chord can denote sadness, anger, frustration, fear or even shame. But then there are so many permutations of chords which subtly change the emotion and make it more complex. A minor seventh chord may imply a more pensive sadness, maybe guilt. A minor ninth could increase the tension of the negativity. A minor seventh with a flat five could imply decreased stability in dealing with the negative emotion. A major seventh lends an ease and comfort, even dreamy elation to a major chord.

A spectrum color can be like a major chord. As we make the color more complex, by adding other pigments, increasing or decreasing its intensity, we alter the emotion that goes with it. I thought about the color of this background for a long time before executing it. I knew that it was a major chord, but I had to think about the complexities. The major chord was yellow, but not a pure, happy yellow. It had to be more thoughtful. So yellow ochre became the base – an earthy yellow that has had some experience in the world and has tired a little from the bright yellow it started out as. And then the yellow was tinged with viridian. This deep green with blue overtones was about the heavy thoughts that come with being a creative person. But those thoughts do not always bubble to the surface – they are an undercurrent, so they don’t have a lot of sway in Gavia’s overall energy. The final mix was titanium white, which lightened the whole thing to happy, intelligent and contented place. This is the energy that Gavia gave off. Some people read auras. I guess painting portraits is similar.

So, in painting the energy of this young woman, I was saying two things. First, at some point in the infinite space and time of the universe, this person existed. That’s what every portrait says. But second, it says that I existed, and that I felt emotions that I could translate into color. If someone were to see this portrait in a thousand years, they may not know who painted it, but they’ll know that at one time, a painter felt as they do, saw as they do, lived as they do. All the painters of the past have left evidence of their inner selves in the complex chords and subtle notes of painting. The nuances of emotion. When I look at a Holbein, I know Henry VIII. When I see a Rembrandt self-portrait, I see inside the man. Picasso is still alive in his paintings. The painters of the caves at Lascaux or Alta Mira have lived on through the ages. In our way, we are all trying to say the same thing – I was here.