The drawing that made me cry last night and I can't tell if that means it's good or I'm losing it
Started a charcoal portrait around midnight. Just a friend's face, nothing dramatic. Three hours later I'm sitting on the floor with tears running down my face because something clicked in the way the light hit her jaw and I don't know if it's actually good or if I was just tired and overwhelmed and the art hit the right bruise.
Has anyone else had that? Where your own work makes you emotional and you genuinely cannot tell if it's because you cracked something real or because you're projecting hard onto it? I want to show someone but I'm scared they'll look at it and be like "it's fine" and I'll realize the tears were just me being a mess.
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Oh, I know this feeling so well. I had a pastel portrait a few months ago where I got the eye right, not just the shape, but something in the look, and I just sat there with my heart pounding like I'd seen a ghost. It's such a strange thing when your own hands make something that hits you like that.
I think... it probably means you did crack something real. Not because the emotion is proof of quality, but because that kind of reaction usually comes from a place of recognition. Like you saw the thing you were actually trying to get at, and it startled you. We don't cry over "it's fine."
Would love to see it if you ever feel like sharing. But I get the fear too. Sometimes I post something I'm genuinely unsure about and the validation almost makes it worse, like I need people to tell me it's bad just to know where I stand.
Oh man, the eye thing, I know exactly what you mean. I work in watercolor mostly and there's this moment with portraits where you get the light in the eye right and it's like the whole face suddenly looks back at you. It's almost spooky. I think that's why I keep painting the same window over and over honestly, chasing that feeling where it stops being paint and starts being light.
And yeah, I think you're right about recognition. With my dad's portrait I did after he passed, I redrew the jawline like fifteen times because it wasn't him yet. And then one night it just... was. And I sobbed. But it wasn't sad crying exactly, it was like oh there you are. The drawing is still up in my studio and honestly it's not technically perfect but I don't care because it's him.
So I hope you showed it to someone. Or if you haven't yet, I hope you do. That kind of thing deserves to be seen even if it feels scary.
The jaw thing, what you said about recognition... I think that's what happened. It wasn't even a dramatic part of her face, just the line where her jaw meets her neck and the shadow settled there. And I looked at it and it was HER. Not a drawing of her. HER. And I just lost it.
I'm glad you kept redrawing your dad's jawline fifteen times. That's love, man. That's the work. The ones that cost something are the ones that matter.
"We don't cry over 'it's fine'", that hit. That's exactly it. I think I needed someone to say that.
The jaw thing, what you said about recognition... I think that's what happened. It wasn't even a dramatic drawing. Just her in lamplight, tired, mid-laugh. But I caught something I'd seen a hundred times and never put down right before. And when I finally did it felt like... proof? That I'd actually been seeing her all those years? I don't know if that makes sense.
Also pastels are a nightmare and I respect anyone who wrestles them into submission. What was the eye? Like, whose eye?