Everyday seems the same. I wake, that's if i was able to sleep, and walk to my studio. In my studio there are endless memories of us in the air. Not only that but the painting looks just like her. I walk in my studio sometimes and just stare at it. see if i could feel of that comfort again. Some of her warmth.
I sit and stare at the painting and think of what has happened. Seems almost as if they didn't. Like if i saw everything in front of me in a movie and i was helpless to do something about it. When i draw her i feel close to her. Perhaps thats why shes's all over my studio. I couldn't count the amount of times I've drawn her late at night. Not being able to sleep. Smoke the night's first cigarette and begin working on the painting. I try and distract myself by thinking of the technical aspects of the painting. Are the hues right.. do the temperature changes make sense. But its still her. It's still my Helen, my Amliv. When working on the painting time seems to slow down. What in actuality is a 6 hour painting session feels like a lifetimes work. But in a few hours the sun shall rise and the day's first light will begin to dry the moistened leaves. Soon i'll have to go take a shower and prepare for work. I try and remember the lessons from Art School. Look at the model more than the painting, stay loose, make sure you distinguish the anatomy in the right places. But i know what she looks like. I could draw her from memory if needed but i still try and look at the reference as often as i can. The more i look at it the more i remember that day. I was so nervous taking those pictures. I concentrate so much on that night that my hands paint by themselves, my mind retreats to another place. A place where these pictures slightly move. I interact with them as if it was really her. Was i going mad ? She moves like danger. Slowly moving slighty and silently. The aroma of vanilla fills the air around me. I could feel her here with me. She smiles from the anxiety. But it's a soft smile and its beautiful. No words can describe the feeling i get when she smiles like that. Theres an honesty there i don't often see. Although i could feel shes a little anxious she's comfortable. She wouldn't be modeling for me like this if she wasn't. I love to make her comfortable, to feel like she's being taken care of.
My morning alarm starts ringing in the my bedroom across the hall. I look at her again and she no longer moves. She's a picture again. i look at the painting and its really coming to life. Her eyes are beginning to glow and her stance is very real and descriptive of her personality. If i where to cut out her head you would still know it was her just from the body language. Of course you would have to know her though. It's seven in the morning and i have to get to work soon. I could hear the restless traffic of the street beginning to build up as the time passes. I guess I'm done for the night. I got pretty far for one setting. The tones are beginning to make sense and the light is becoming obvious. One thing i learned after school is that if you can't distinguish where the light source is your not done painting.
i light another cigarette and look off into the neighborhood. I wonder if she slept well. If shes hungry. She's probably still sleeping dreaming of something. I wonder if its of me.
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