Thursday, November 13, 2008

The Two Gayles


One's real life is so often the life that one does not lead.
~Oscar Wilde

"The Two Gayles" is another painting from my doppelganger series. I wanted to explore the notion of an interconnectedness between these two women. Or perhaps they are the same woman, but glimpses of her through different facets of her psyche or at different points of the day?  I do not analyze why I paint what I paint. Creative origins are for an analyst, or a couch on which I am not quite ready to recline. Whether literal or metaphorical, I simply wanted to ask questions and create a bit of unease with the piece.

Sometimes I am motivated by my unconscious. Certainly it has to surface to some degree, to manifest itself  through the paint. I wanted to once again explore the idea of an image with a figure sitting on the side of a bed as if pondering, reflecting or even regretting something. As with "The Two Figures" I wanted to capture a sense of inward wrestling, but quietly, under an expression of apparent serenity. 

The beauty of the tripod is what enabled me to capture the reference for this piece. I had Gayle lie on the bed and shoot some shots and then, without moving the camera and tripod, had her sit on the edge of the bed with a sweater on. I did a bit of creative editing with the painting so that she fit more completely on the canvas. 

Above all, I did seek to create an unspoken dialogue between the two figures. Though silent, there is a tension there. Each of us has so many facets to our personalities, an inner tension as much as the vagaries that we display to the outside world. We have so many choices available to us at any given moment, and that is the beauty of who we are. Even the smallest choices, the seemingly trivial decisions, all have repercussions. That is what makes the world such a splendidly magnificent place I think.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do 
with your one wild and precious life?
~Mary Oliver

1 comment:

Peggi Habets said...

Heather,
This is a beautiful painting. So haunting, as if there are deep regrets.