Some of you may recall a very important resolution I set for myself at the beginning of 2014.
And no, I’m not referring to “Achieving a cellulite-free posterior.” Let’s just say that one hasn’t been going so well.
The resolution I’m talking about is much more…well…fun. I wanted to start painting again!
I studied art in college, and particularly excelled in painting. Time spent at the easel went quickly — the hours passed like minutes as I zoned out and let my brush do the emoting. At the risk of sounding like one of those hippie dippie art instructors with beads in her dreadlocks, painting fed my soul.
Now felt like the perfect time to head back to the easel. I have the budget for supplies, plenty of space to work, and a plethora of blank walls just begging to be decorated. I decided to jump back in with both feet — ordering a 40×40 canvas from Amazon last week.
The following day, I created a concept for my first project based off of (cringe) an Instagram selfie.
Within forty-eight hours, my 10 square foot painter’s canvas had arrived. I was ready to get down to business! Halfway through the first coat, Scott inquired as to what I was actually painting.
Scott: Is it just going to be a bunch of blobs? Kind of like that Pollock guy does?
Katrina: Jackson Pollock? No. It’s going to be a self-portrait. I’m just working on the background texture right now.
Scott: Seriously? A self-portrait?
Katrina: Yeah. What’s wrong with that?
Scott: Don’t you think it’s a little…I don’t know…self absorbed? It’s going to be huge.
Katrina: Not at all! Many of the great painters are known for the self portraits. Do you think Vincent Van Gogh or Frida Kahlo were self-absorbed?
Scott: They knew they looked funny–they highlighted their flaws in those portraits.
Katrina: Whatever. I would kill for thick brows like Frida.
Scott: Where are you going to hang it?
Katrina: In the space above the fireplace in our living room.
Scott: What?! No. That’s ridiculous.
Katrina: No it isn’t! I’m even using paint colors that will tie in with our decor.
Scott: Katrina. Who hangs a mammoth-sized painting of their face in the most prominent wall in their home?
Katrina: Rich people in movies do it all the time. Haven’t you seen Clueless?
Scott: We are not rich, nor are we in any movies.
Katrina: I don’t care. I’m hanging it there whether you like it or not.
And with that, I returned to my painting.
Over the next twenty-four hours, the portrait started to come to life. Being out of practice for seven years, my skills are a bit rusty, but the final result looked somewhat close to my original concept.
It ended up looking like a more attractive cousin who’s eyes aren’t symmetrical…but I’ll take it!
Scott was even impressed. “You’re really talented,” he offered, “Now we just need to set up a better space with you an invest in higher quality paints so you can sell some of these.”
“Whoa, whoa whoa…” I responded, “First things first, let’s just focus on hanging this up, alright?”
It came as no surprise Scott was resistant to this suggestion.
“It’s a beautiful painting, but I still don’t want a giant replica of your face looking over our living room. I’m saving you from you narcissism.”
I shrugged casually before sneaking out to the garage to locate a hammer and nails. It was time to take matters into my own, egotistical hands.
It wasn’t until I saw my abstract mug perched high atop our living quarters that I realized Scott may have had a point. A giant picture of my face overseeing the main area of our home? It was a little ridiculous. And self-indulgent. And perhaps just a tad delusional.
But I still kind of love it…?
Moments later, I called Scott into the living area to admire my handiwork. “What do you think?” I asked nervously.
“No offense, but it kind of looks like Britney Spears.”
My heart melted into a puddle of flattery. It was the perfect response.
“Well,” I argue, “If you’re too embarrassed to tell guests your wife hung a giant portrait of herself above the fireplace, you can always just say it’s a painting of the Princess of Pop!”
“That would be even worse, Katrina.”
He continued ranting, but I didn’t catch much of it. I was too busy dancing around the bedroom belting “Paint me baby, one more time!”
Liked this? Then try these: