The paint of no return 1

My brain and associated organs are focusing their attention elsewhere at the moment, so the remaining unemployed organs have decided to post some paintings this week. They’re remarkably boring and I apologise profusely, but I can’t be held entirely responsible.

I attended a very good life-painting class for about five years, until bureaucracy killed it last year. Learning to oil-paint one evening a week, even for five years, is not going to produce a painter, but I learned alot and enjoyed the experience. One of the things I learned in five years was that painting is not really my thing.

This painting was done after about a year of evenings and, in case you don't know the jargon, it's a portrait. The model, I’m sure, had some sort of a name – I remember using it several times – but I must have put it down somewhere and forgotten where I left it. She definitely had a face though, and this is a strained attempt at reproducing it in smelly paint. The teacher was particularly pleased with the dark pink brushstroke on the cheek - he didn't say anything about the rest of it.