Exhibit A: doing myself justice.

These days a lot of my work is taking pictures of people for theirs. And I've realised this drawing here represents a reason I’m a good choice as a headshot photographer: I look in the mirror and try to paint myself every Tuesday morning. 

Self Portrait: November 18th 2025. Oil on paper.

I’m doing regular classes with Jenni Stringleman in her Devonport studio. It’s so good on so many levels.

Some days I’m happy with my progress. Other days I flounder. Today was a good day, whatever you think of the sketch above. I value it because I know what it stands for: perseverence, humility, finding my way very slowly towards "my thing". 

I've been painting seriously for about six years. I'd say I'm a combination of self-taught and Browne School-taught. A lot of my learning has happened in night classes and year-long courses through Browne School. However a lot of insights and technical learning have come from explorations in my own studio practice, doing 100 day projects and making work for exhibitions.

When I completed all of the work for my solo show in October last year, a little part of me wondered if I would paint again. This seems ridiculous but it really did cross my mind at the time. You see, some things that had been driving my practice for years were kind of "integrated" by my solo show. Setting the goal, stumping up the cash for gallery hire and materials, taking a month off my photography job to make the work, and then actually making the work: this was huge for me. The whole project confirmed to me that when I take my artistry seriously, important things happen. I'd been pursued by some old ghosts up until that point and making my solo show happen just...made them go away.

So I genuinely wondered why I would continue to paint, if it wasn't to prove something to myself or other people. A year on from that show, "proving I can" still drives me but it's more about my capacity to commit and to go through the painful process of growing through learning - and the bad art and failures that involves - without giving up.

Enter: a self-portraiture in oil class, run by a friend. 

Working on charcoal sketches from photographs in Jenni Stringleman's studio, October 2025.

I was attracted to this class partly because I have oil paint but I don't really know how to use it. It's what all of my heroes worked with so part of me wants to graduate past acrylics and into the grown-up things. I am learning, slowly. I can now mix some of the colours I need to paint my complexion - this is a big win for me - but I'm still like, "What IS this stuff?"

Self-portraiture also appealed because (1) it's technically challenging and (2) it's a trip for the ego. Going to class every Tuesday is a kind of deep personal development because, every single time, I try to do myself justice. What so I mean by this? I could push the legal/courtroom metaphor quite a long way but put simply, I am recording the evidence. I am Exhibit A. I try to draw and paint what’s there, not what I wish was there (or wasn’t!). Not "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but" but it is an endeavour which demands honesty. And swearing. But not on the Bible. I'm finding that I am being freed by the process.

It's partly about accuracy. If I don’t get proportions right - if I dodge the true shape of my chin or the shadow under my eye or the multiple curious planes of my nose - I don’t look like me. I'm dealing in the facts of my face. I would rather paint a brutally accurate portrait than make myself "look good". In fact the process is redefining what looking good actually means. I've been asked if self-portraiture is confronting and yes it is, initially, but once you start paying close attention to the form and tone and colour of what's in the mirror, it goes from confrontation to curiosity quite quickly. It's been unexpectedly touching. 

And the practice is not humbling. On the other side of OMG DO I LOOK LIKE THAT is the pleasure of the work, the fascination with structure and colour and complexity. The quiet thrill of getting better, slowly slowly. This drawing isn’t wholly accurate of course - I had an hour. With more time I’d get it closer to life. 

I feel like this process will, in time, move me closer to "my thing", which might even be a return to things I was doing a few years ago and which I miss. Today's session involved me using tools I haven't used for over a year and it was like coming home. The beginning is strange because you really do have to trust that it's all going to be okay, even while the paper is saying "You are not even close, lady."

But as you can see, it's possible to get closer, one step at a time:

For mid-life people, looking in the mirror can be tough. We don’t like to admit this even to ourselves because we’re afraid of sounding vain or superficial. There are more important things than getting older and falling apart, right? Objectively yes, but the passage of time is a confronting thing. Staying healthy and mobile notwithstanding, ageing involves surrender and acceptance that things change, that they don't last. Memento mori.

The best way to go through it is just to do it, not to stop it or even pretend it's not happening. You don't need to post your pictures in a blog on the internet like I am here. Unless part of your story is like mine: that self-acceptance is the doorway to joy.

I took these pics, above, because I need to paint a thing called a "grisaille" for next week's class. I did one yesterday from life but Jenni suggested I leave it as a sketch - that's what she feels its purpose is and working on it would destroy what's lovely about it. I agree. So I will use one of those photos for my homework this week, making a monochromatic self portrait that I will add layers of coloured glaze to next Tuesday.  It needs to look more like a marble statue than this. 

Don't stop learning. It's good for you.

xAB