Frieda

I've been wanting to try again with the technique I used on Daphne du Maurier, where you draw the portrait in charcoal and then "seal" it by running thin watercolor (or ink) over the paper. When I saw that Frieda Kahlo was one of this week's picks for women artists, I thought she'd be a great subject. She adapts well to being drawn in charcoal because of that raven hair and those black eyebrows, and I envisioned drowning her in the bright colors of Mexico—shocking pink, turquoise, orange.

The likeness isn't quite as good as it could be, but I think it's distinguishably her; and the unexpected result of dropping the bright colors over her was to give her a slightly obscured look that is actually expressive of the life she lived, which was determinedly positive but always overshadowed by the pain of her physical existence.

One thing that drives me absolutely crazy about painting portraits: In the reference photo, she is looking straight out at the viewer. The eyes were a little dark and hard to see, but as far as I could tell, I put the pupils exactly where they were in the picture, as well as the reflections, and yet in my portrait she is looking down and to the side. I just can't seem to figure out how to do that—I'm going to have to ask my expert friends (Sassa?) if there's a secret.

Here is "Frieda"—charcoal, Daler Rowney inks, India ink, white gel pen,

on Fluid 140-lb. hotpress (smooth) watercolor paper, about 8x9 inches.