Immortalizing a Person’s Essence in Wood Fascinates Me

All artists are compelled to create, but what exactly that is varies. I’ve known plenty of people who are awesome at pencil sketches of buildings, and I’ve seen some incredible paintings of scenery. For me, though, it’s always been about portraits. I think it’s been kind of intuitive for me from the start. When I was little, my urge to draw people was irresistible. I was always walking around with a piece of paper and a pencil, drawing my mom or dad and trying hard to get every line just right. Even then, I enjoyed the process of trying to recreate a person’s likeness and their essence and to capture a very personal moment for all time.

Maybe that’s it, then: all portraits are snapshots in time. Life moves so quickly that in a month, a year, or a decade, the person will look different. The portrait I create for them is an indication of who they were. It is a very visual memory for them, and when they see it, they will remember both the experience of sitting for the portrait as well as the events and thoughts around it. 

I like this aspect of my art because I want to be able to document things. A lot of people try to do the same by journaling or taking photographs, both great ways to lay out their memories. Portraits are my way of doing the same thing, and it is an enormous privilege that what I do can bless those who sit for me.

I also believe that drawing portraits is the most challenging form of art, though I may get some disagreement on that. In many ways, it’s very unforgiving - I can do an excellent job on the person’s eyes, hair, and chin, but if I mess up their nose, it won’t be their face. That, however, is part of the fun of it: the challenge of getting every line and angle just right the first time. It’s a puzzle that I never tire of putting together. 

One of the best moments is when the portrait suddenly looks like the model. I will have been putting in lines and angles and shadows that are all well-done, but together, they’re not quite enough to make the portrait recognizable. Then, it suddenly comes into focus when I put in the last line around the lips, and there it is - the face of my model. It’s an exciting moment for both of us, I think. I find satisfaction in being able to capture that likeness and essence.

Painting a portrait from life, for me, is far better than doing it from a photo. In that moment, I don’t get to make mistakes. It’s three hours of an ongoing struggle and process, and I enjoy it. I thrive on solving the problem of how to rebuild someone’s face in a way that doesn’t age or change. The portrait will be there forever in the wood.

Beyond that, I love painting fire portraits because I have the ability to share that experience with people who very rarely - if ever - have had their portraits done from life. I am able to use my skills to give people the gift of being seen and recognized. They feel worthy of being captured forever in art, an unfamiliar feeling for many of them.

All artists evolve as the years pass, and I don’t expect that I will be any different. No matter where I go with my art, it’s hard for me to imagine that portraiture won’t continue to be a part of it. It is just too much fun for me to get to know the people who sit for me and to give them something they have never experienced before: a portrait that encapsulates who they really are and why that is, indeed, beautiful.