It's the afternoon, the studio is flooded with warm golden light. My portrait of Casper, the Orangutan, is sitting on the easel next to my window. I take in the fresh breeze as lo-fi beats softly fill the space. I stare into Casper's eyes, mixing some paint to match his skin. Being mindful of the sunlight's warm tones and knowing the paint will dry a bit darker, I slowly mix in white paint until it's just a shade lighter. I grab my smallest brush (it's lightweight with a thin smooth stem, it feels nice), dip it in some water, and lightly glide it over the towel. I roll the brush around in the paint, coating the bristles with just the right amount. As I carefully place each stroke onto his skin, the paint slowly falls off the brush. This is where I live.
Hi, I think you're overdue for an update on this one. Part 2!!!
"in some telepathic kind of way. Captivated by the expression of who I'm painting, I study their face and apply it to the canvas. There’s an active exchange"
Hi, I think you're overdue for an update on this one. Part 2!!!
"in some telepathic kind of way. Captivated by the expression of who I'm painting, I study their face and apply it to the canvas. There’s an active exchange"
I would like to experience this, I'm jealous.