I gaze at her; she is all I can see. I try to squint and see her limbs, hair, and expression. All I see instead of these features is an extreme aura radiating from her and the art in her sexuality. Her virtue has a distinct appeal, and I feel lost. I often try to do my subject’s due diligence, but how can I do that with her with just a pen stroke? My eyes go blind. I can no longer see her curves, lips, eyes, or anything.  As does the sun, she holds me in a trance. She is beautiful. Anything I try will never do her justice. 

The color of her smooth skin, flushed cheeks, supple breasts, and radiant, thick hair is suppressed by moonshine. A single eclipse would wash her skin, leaving her beauty to diminish or vanish entirely; I was sure of it. As an artist, I knew that the beauty in front of me could not be truly acknowledged just by my simple eyes. How could I ever try to paint a rendition?

As creatures, we often seek to find the unique, appealing traits of everyone around us. The appearance and disposition of others matter, regardless of what we believe. Unintentional judgments and beliefs hold as much value as calculated ones. Just as a small stone enters the water, the impact of these traits make ripples in the human mind is still clear: first impressions matter. 

So, what is my first impression of her? Of course, it was never the physical attributes. It was her confidence. She is proud of who she is. Her stature, poise, lifted head, and set eyebrows all track this belief. She embraces her identity, accepts her sexuality and presence, and soaks in the societal attitudes around her. She is herself and will always be herself, even if implored not to be. She is the definition of my art: redoubtable beauty.

My journey as a portrait painter has been focused on the central question: is life an imitation of art or is art an imitation of life? This may never be answered, but in moments such as these, I find neither true. Life is impossible without art and who would make art if there was no life? We must fully forget independence in art, this scenario is the pinnacle evidence that art relies on the dependency of the world and vice versa. We mustn’t forget who we are beyond our words, relations, choices, and expressions. The world will continue to spin, beauty will continue to be blinding, and most of all, art will be present. 

I look back at my blank canvas. Guilt seeps in. She will think her body is repelling and she will never return. I have to paint something, I have to. I look at my palette, and it comes to me. I will draw what she makes me feel: certainty for the future.