Some day I’ll sketch a flattering self-portrait. Some day I’ll follow the “rules” of portraiture and get features the right sizes in the right places. But not today. Today I just look and draw and see what happens.
I always save the last few pages of my journals to do a self-portrait and look back over the pages and write an index of what they contained. I look in mirrors as little as possible, so it’s weird to spend quality time with my reflection and seeing what’s wrinkled since last time I looked.
When I woke up I had a curl standing straight up on top of my head which fell onto my face as the day progressed. That reminded me of this poem my grandmother used to recite to tell this curly-haired, often naughty granddaughter:
There was a little girl who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead;
When she was good, she was very, very good,
And when she was bad she was horrid.
The best part of drawing this one was using the Black Pentel Color Brush Pen (not waterproof) for my curls and sketching the puffy down vest. I have tidier eyebrows than I drew but it’s ink so there you go.