Well, this is what happens when you leave a fresh canvas under a leaky skylight:
I don't know if you can see it, but there are a couple of water stains and plaster bits from the skylight. It's not a complete disaster, because I had decided to re-stretch it anyway. These stretcher frames are much thinner the ones I usually use, but since they were in my closet, they got the job. I don't know if their depth had anything to do with it, but the canvas didn't get tight enough during stretching, and no amount of coaxing with a spray bottle and a space heater worked. It got tighter, but wiggles a bit too much. The plaster and stains were just the final push I needed to say, oh well. Try again.
In the meantime, this one is back on my easel:
I decided to add some underbrush to the middle ground area. I added some washes back there, and now I'm trying to figure out how much texture to use. This whole painting has been a balancing act of value. It's not there yet, but that middle ground is really helping to reconcile the dark foreground with the light background.
Who knew that the background would be almost as much work as the foreground? And now that I see it here, there is a lot of work to do. It's funny, because I always think I'm doing the easiest thing, and one thing leads to another until I have a full plate to reconcile. This one has been a bit of a pill. They all have been, lately. If I could figure out how to speed up my process, I would certainly do it.
When I first started this one, I was thinking about the hijab that my Muslim friends wear. They seem to feel protected by it, in a way. (I could be completely wrong about that.) But I was also thinking about the invisibility it can offer. And that the act of unveiling, even for Western women, is an act of autonomy and independence. I like not knowing which she is doing: veiling or unveiling.
