When a painting tells its own story
It has been a while since I last sat down to write a Studio Diary. Not because I have stopped painting, but because I have been busy learning, experimenting, questioning myself and occasionally becoming frustrated with my own expectations.
Tonight, something unexpected happened in my studio. Something that reminded me why I love painting.
I began with a photograph, intending to create a portrait. I wanted to capture the expression, particularly the eyes, while practising the techniques I had been learning.
I worked on proportions, studied facial structure and experimented with colour temperatures. But somewhere along the way, the painting began moving in a different direction.
I introduced abstraction, textures, patterns and collage. I stopped trying to reproduce the photograph exactly and began responding to what was happening on the canvas.
At one point, I needed hands for the composition. Unable to find a reference that expressed what I wanted, I photographed my own hands and incorporated them into the painting.
Then came the musical notation, layered across the lower part of the face. More colours followed, botanical patterns, dark passages and unexpected marks.
I wasn't consciously telling a story. I was simply painting.
And as I stepped back to look at the canvas, I began to recognise something deeper.
The painting had become more than a portrait.
I called it Beyond Appearances.
What lies beneath
Appearances rarely tell the whole story.
We meet people, see their faces, observe their expressions and form impressions. Yet behind those appearances are entire worlds of experiences, memories, struggles, joys and choices that may never be visible to others.
The musical notation covering the mouth became particularly meaningful to me.
It does not represent a voice taken away or someone being forced into silence.
It represents the personal choice not to reveal everything.
Sometimes we choose silence, not because we have nothing to say, but because some experiences are ours to hold.
There can be dignity, strength and freedom in deciding what we share with the world.
The eyes convey presence and awareness. The hands express something that words cannot. The layers of colour, texture and collage suggest the complexity of what lies beneath the surface.
Perhaps that is what the painting is really about: resilience, inner strength and the untold stories we carry.
An unexpected discovery
What excites me most is that none of this was planned.
I didn't begin with a carefully constructed narrative. The story emerged gradually through the process of painting.
For months, I have been learning, practising and sometimes questioning whether my work is good enough. I have compared my paintings with those of more experienced artists and wondered whether I should be doing things differently.
But tonight I wasn't thinking about exhibitions, competitions, sales or recognition.
I was simply enjoying the discovery.
The realism and abstraction found a way to coexist. The imperfections became part of the expression. The collage, textures and colours developed into something I hadn't imagined when I first picked up my brush.
I am still learning, and I know I have much more to learn. But perhaps learning to paint is not only about mastering techniques.
Perhaps it is also about learning when to trust the process, when to let go of expectations, and when to allow a painting to surprise us.
Tonight, I experienced that surprise.
And after being absent from my Studio Diaries for so long, I cannot think of a better story with which to return.
Sometimes we begin a painting with an image in mind, only to discover that something much deeper has been waiting to emerge.
From my studio in Cairns,
Hala Kattab
Resilience Through Art
