Tamara Hala
I’ve been so busy for the past several months that I haven’t done any art at all. When I agreed to do this project, I didn’t anticipate that. And now it’s past due and I haven’t managed to start yet—and the pressure is on. Most of my work is abstract and non-representational. I’m not good at people, especially faces, but I’ve challenged myself to try. I’ve agreed to do this, and I’m determined to follow through—for Tim as much as for myself.
Finally some time opens up for me. I’m housesitting for a friend whose house is big and quiet and has lovely natural light. I stand at the bartop counter separating the living room from the kitchen. I hunch a bit because it’s low. Here I attempt my self-portrait.
Getting back into art mode, I do some flow pieces—my name for the kind of abstract art I make, where I just go with the flow. Suddenly I see that one of them looks like a face. I decide to make my self-portrait that way, but when I consciously try, it doesn’t work.
Scrapping that idea, I try my hand at drawing. On Instagram I pull up some posts I saved. I follow a portraitist I like, and I study some of her posts: her finished portraits, sketchbook pages of lips, progress shots. I look at another artist’s visual guide to facial proportions. Referring to these materials, I draw myself in pen (it turns out awful) and then paint myself in watercolor (worse). I’m frustrated because I’m determined to make something that is recognizable as me. And these people on Instagram are so good.
I realize that I’ve been working so far without looking at a mirror or even a photo. I think that’s the problem. I pull up my best photo of myself: a good hair day, nice lighting. It’s funny—sometimes I don’t think it looks like me, but I use this photo for everything.
With Beck’s new album on, I give this one a try. I’m drawing in pencil on cold-press watercolor paper, measuring proportions and doing the math to get the drawing right. I do little sketches on post-it notes to get the composition right. Focus. Suddenly Colors is over, and so I put on some podcasts. Eventually I switch to reality television—things I don’t need to actually look at. My neck is sore from looking down, but I only notice it when I stop.
I reach a stopping point. I feel really accomplished. I’m glad that I’m finally having time to dedicate to this project because it was something that I was very enthusiastic about at first and then was disappointed I never got to do it. Had my schedule allowed, I would have liked to spend nine months working on a piece. I’m going to have a beer tonight and then decide if I’ll add color to this or leave it as pencil. I think I’ll work on some other art tonight, too, just because I’m feeling so energized. I post the in-progress photo on Instagram and also text it to a friend.
That night I look at the portrait several times, thinking about it. I take a photo of it with my phone, and looking at that image, I see the different parts that need to be fixed: my forehead, my chin, one side of my glasses…
In the morning I go to the store, and it hits me how strange it is that I’ve never done a self-portrait before. I’ve taken art classes, but somehow I’ve avoided it. On purpose, maybe, because I can’t stand the thought of staring at myself for so long. But somehow, luckily, I didn’t really think of it as me when I was really focused on drawing. It was just like drawing anything.
The next day I work on the portrait again. It’s a very warm day for October, so the window is open. I can hear the birds’ music and feel a breeze every now and then. I stand in a nice sunbeam and I draw. I’m fixing things and adding details, like my moles. My neck doesn’t bother me today. As I work, I refer from to progress photos of the piece from yesterday, to remind me how things were before I fixed them. Sometimes I see I’ve made things worse, so that helps me fix them better. While I draw it hits me that in my drawing I look like I’m in my 20s. But that’s okay. I’m happy that I’m having a pretty easy time seeing where the mistakes are and knowing how to fix them. Two years ago, when I was doing a face a day, I didn’t have an easy time at all.
It also strikes me that when I’m really focused, I don’t think or feel anything. It’s like my brain is just turned off, which is really something because I feel like my brain is always going. As a result I am worried I won’t contribute anything to Tim’s project because I think he’s looking for strong emotional experiences, like transformative thoughts of self. At one point an emotion does hit me and I think, “This will be great for the interview,” but when it’s time for the interview I can’t remember what it was. I rack my brain for a while, and I just get more and more frustrated. Finally something happened and I can’t remember it.
Soon enough, I hit a point where it’s done. I originally thought I’d add color and perhaps collage elements, but I’ve decided to keep it as pencil. Leave well enough alone. If I try adding color I might just get frustrated and want to start over and there’s not time for that anymore.
I sit on the couch and read for a while, and I’m happy. It’s a really big accomplishment. This project has made me really want to dive in with faces—though maybe not my own—because I am feeling re-inspired and energized. It’s funny to get inspired by a self-portrait when I never wanted to do one before.
This story was written by Tim Gorichanaz based on interviews with Tamara Hala. You can learn more about Tamara on her website.