Pastel, conte crayon, chalk, charcoal on brown butcher paper.
I remember so distinctly the moment I did this. I was living in my old carriage house in Brooklyn, and had a wonderful studio on the ground floor. I was in love with somebody who wasn’t being attentive enough to suit me and driving me nuts. I had been running in circles, upset and in a rage, screaming, crying, ready to kill, and I thought it can’t be me… WHAT IS HIS PROBLEM? he should be all over me! do I look funny?…and well…what the hell do I actually look like?
So I pulled up a chair under a spotlight, set up a big mirror about ten feet away, and hit the paper running with a handful of colors.
I think there was something seriously wrong with the guy.