For the longest time I knew of Sylvia Plath, but for some reason I never really LOOKED into her. As soon as I started reading up, I knew I wanted to paint her.
There are a few reasons why I identify with her:
One, it turns out that she was an artist, as well as a writer.
Two, throughout her life she struggled with depression. In her desperation Plath committed suicide at the age of thirty. Do not fear, you shall not find me sticking my head in an oven (or committing suicide by any other means).
I also just began The Bell Jar. While I adore the way she writes, I can also easily put myself in her place. For example, I sometimes feel like this:
I guess I should have been excited the way most girls were, but I couldn’t get myself to react. I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.
– Excerpt from The Bell Jar
There is a possibility that many people tumble around feeling like that, but no one says anything. I bet you that that’s what it is.
More about the piece.
This is actually the second version of this piece. For the last one I used acrylic, and it just didn’t look right. I also used too much ink and covered up the left side of her face (leaving only a portion of the eye).
Normally I wouldn’t bother redoing a piece, but I just couldn’t leave it. While eating dinner at the table, I could see the painting out of the corner of my eye. I even dreamt about it. Not really, but I could have.
Anyways, the painting above is what I ended up with on the second go round. I am not completely happy with it, so I will probably give it another go.
– Pen, and watercolour on watercolour paper.