Reverse Pygmalion cont...

A painting I did last week based on the previous photo. The proportions are off, pose is unnatural. But my mom likes it! I guess I'll call it a "work in progress" since I know I'll probably take it off the wall in a month and repaint it.

Reverse Pygmalion

I took this photo about a month ago. I was in Italy. The bus driver needed to stop for his 10am cigarette so he pulled over at this quiet park (even though he didn't speak a word of English, you could always tell when Euri needed a smoke). Somewhere between Trevi and Roma.

My cousin and I stumbled on this statue on the far side park along the banks of a mineral pool. The pools and nearby creek used to feed into a Roman bath. While we were furiously photographing the statue (trying to get a good shot before Euri finished his cigarette), I started thinking about Pygmalion. The Greek myth about a sculptor who fell in love with one of his own statues. Because he was so infatuated with his creation, the gods brought her to life. 

I thought of this sculpture as a "reverse Pygmalion." Maybe the sculptor loves his model enough to immortalize her in marble and place her next to these quiet mineral pools.

I need to do this...

I'm forcing myself to write about my own artwork. I hate going through critiques without having any thoughts on why I create the images I do. I usually end up stumbling incoherently over my own words, afraid of sounding too narcissistic. Hopefully by keeping a blog I can work some things out. I might be a little more motivated to paint, too.
I think my compositional skills may have transformed into minor OCD. Lately, I've been organizing objects into little still-lifes. I noticed this about a month and a half ago while traveling through Italy. While in resturaunts I'd fidget with the silverware, plates, and glasses until they "fit" in an organized pattern. No real thought behind the actions, I just started arranging things. I still can't bring myself to crumple my napkin and throw it on the table after a meal. I have to fold it neatly and tuck it under the rim of my plate, parallel to any unused cutlery. Used silverware has to lie parallel on the plate at a 45 degree angle. Occasionally, it will get to the point where I'll secretly judge the rest of my dinner party based on how organized they've left their place setting. My mother is the worst, wading up her napkin until the original shape is unrecognizable then shrouding her plate with the wrinkled mess. So far, my little "still-lifes" haven't manifested themselves outside the resturant. And I haven't had the urge to organize anyone elses things. Compositional arrangements or OCD? Haven't figured it out yet.