Why People?

Considering the frequency of my blogging this summer, it seems like it's been forever since I last posted. I spent last week at a lakehouse up in the Adirondacks with my dear friend Sarah Holljes and her family, unofficially known as "the Hollji." Despite the family's concern for me being, well, we'll say overexposed to the Holljes way, I really did have a relaxing time and enjoyed the family quite a bit. As Sarah says, it's nice to be friends with someone with whom you can just sit around in silence reading books or go on up to the loft and take a two-hour nap or feel comfortable saying just about anything because you both agree that honesty is the best policy--sometimes no matter how blunt it may be. What Sarah also knows about me is how entertained I am by people in general, meaning I can enjoy me a slab of fine family drama (unless the family is on a reality TV show making a living off their crazies ((unless I'm in 8th grade again watching The Osbournes)).

In an effort to reacquaint myself with my mathematical mind before classes start up in exactly one week, I propose that one of the greatest common factors among families is that they've all got issues. This stems from the fact that each individual person has issues (see original sin). Somehow all of this drivel is supposed to segue into why I paint people, but since I'm not majoring in something that requires fine technique in composition, I'll spare myself the hassle of actually writing well.

Instead I'll go ahead and tell you that I've painted six people now, one of which I painted over since I scratched the idea, and I've got a seventh person in the works. I've also painted a few pieces without people, but I found a lot less fulfillment out of completing those pieces. Partially the fact of that matter is that people are challenging. If the face doesn't look like the actual person, then all my work has gone to painting a foreign personality. It's still a face, but it's not the face I've inspected for the finest detail in nostril exposure. It's also not the face of which I've mentally invaded the lovely surface in order to see the actual person for who she is besides an attractive combination of hues. Painting is a peacefully contemplative art. With each delicate brushstroke of the pupil, I pray for my subject to see the beauty in her life. As I try (and fail) to capture the highlight in each strand of hair, I think about how well God knows and loves this person, as He's got "even the very hairs of [her head] numbered." The continuation of this process until the face becomes a completed two-dimensional form essentially forces me into submission to Jesus' second greatest commandment, to love my neighbor as myself. Exploring and appreciating the qualities of my neighbor is a cause for exploring and appreciating the qualities of our God. If I derive so much joy out of recreating this person's face, I can only imagine the joy of the Lord as He looks at His original creation.

With a simple paintbrush in hand, I am humbled.