Showing posts with label Self-Portraits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Self-Portraits. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 6, 2026

This semester, I've been taking a portrait painting course at my alma mater. I've been out of school so long and I wanted to engage in some kind of learning that was more enduring and substantive than a weekend or weeklong workshop.

The experience helped me understand how to use oil paint properly. Previously, I was using excessive amounts of linseed oil and did not understand how to use solvents. I didn't even know that solvents could be mixed with oils. Developing a better understanding of oil paint use has been a real game changer. I also gained a much greater appreciation for underpainting, which I had previously avoided due to lack of understanding the benefit. Throughout all of the portraits, I frequently referenced the Asaro head. Thinking about the face in terms of planes has helped me better understand facial structure, light, and form.

It was also nice to just experience being a student again, albeit with a much different lens.

Beyond technical growth, one of the most significant things this course has given me is a new set of questions to wrestle with: why painting? Why representational work? Why human-centric work? I am always a proponent of developing more technical skill, but when I am left to my own devices, these questions keep churning around in my brain. For me, the medium tends to serve the concept rather than the other way around. I love the process of painting, and it's definitely the visual language I'm most fluent in, but I do want to interrogate why painting is necessary or relevant for me, personally. It's helpful to not lose sight of the fact that despite whatever grandiose sense of meaning we assign to the action of painting, at the end of the day, we're just smearing around pigments on a surface. Anyway, here are some of my projects:



Resting. Acrylic on Craft Foam.

This series features self-performed “resting” faces of school employees. While photographing my colleagues for this project, I noticed that some struggled to fully relax their expressions and let go of the performative smile often expected in care-facing professions. This observation became central to the concept and technical direction of this project.

The portraits are painted on craft foam, a material commonly associated with children’s artwork and classroom activities. I intentionally chose this unstable and non-archival surface to reflect the instability of public education. The softness and fragility of the material also created technical considerations while painting, prompting me to shift from working with oil to working with acrylic.

Two of the portraits are bordered with scalloped classroom-style borders featuring repeated smiley faces attached with visible staples. These materials reference the visual culture of elementary classrooms while also pointing toward the emotional performance expected of educators. 

Teaching, particularly elementary teaching, requires a constant projection of warmth, patience, and emotional accessibility. Because education is also a female-dominated profession, these expectations overlap with broader social expectations placed on women to appear pleasant and accommodating. Through this series, I wanted to explore the tension between authentic emotional states and socially performed expressions, as well as how differently male and female “resting” faces are often interpreted. Neutral expressions on women are often perceived more negatively than similar expressions on men.

Asaro head studies. We used the Asaro head a lot to figure out light and form. I was surprised by how heavily I leaned on it throughout the course of the semester. It's an excellent tool for visualizing facial planes.


We worked with the Zorn palette, a limited palette of 4 colors: titanium white, yellow ochre, cadmium red, and payne's gray (or alternatively, ivory black). This was a color mixing exercise as we familiarized ourselves with the palette.

Simplified 1.5 hour studies - Ryan
Two alla prima self-portraits in oil. The first is on Masonite panel, the second on Dibond panel. I really had to contend with my own face while doing these. I definitely got tired of looking at it.

Saturday, November 30, 2024



Look what we found in the park in the dark
We will take him home, we will call him Clark
He will live at our house, he will grow and grow
Will our mother like this? We don't know
Dr. Seuss

Moon Snail Shells. Oil on gesso board.

Doomscrolling. Oil on Yupo.

Sunday, January 14, 2024

Shadow Work. Watercolor and Acrylic on Arches Paper. 2024.

Glow-In-The-Dark details

Detail

Saturday, October 23, 2021

 




Crayon self-portraits - I've been exploring crayon as a medium lately.


A portrait-in-progress of my buddy Allen.

Sunday, December 15, 2019

 

Humility and the Things We Cannot Change. Mixed Media (watercolor, ink, image transfers, record, glitter, gold leaf, gouache, and marker) on Arches paper. 2019. 

About a year ago, I started developing scotomas (blind spots) in my vision. I’ve been to a bunch of doctors (and spent a bunch of money) and I still don’t have an explanation for why I keep developing the retinal lesions that cause these spots. As a person who needs to create in order to feel purposeful (and I do this most fluently with my eyes) this situation plunged me into a pit of anxiety and despair. I’ve tried to shift my mindset to practice gratitude and try to take things day by day, which is all we really have anyway.

Sunday, May 5, 2019


 I'm a huge fan of this website, Deep Dream Generator, which creates freakish AI mashups.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

9 Shadows. Graphite, Watercolor, and Gold Leaf. © Liz Darling 2017

Monday, November 6, 2017

Thin Places. Watercolor, India Ink, and Gouache. © Liz Darling 2017

“There is in Celtic mythology the notion of ‘thin places’ in the universe where the visible and the invisible world come into their closest proximity. To seek such places is the vocation of the wise and the good — and for those that find them, the clearest communication between the temporal and eternal. Mountains and rivers are particularly favored as thin places marking invariably as they do, the horizontal and perpendicular frontiers. But perhaps the ultimate of these thin places in the human condition are the experiences people are likely to have as they encounter suffering, joy, and mystery.”

Peter Gomes

Monday, April 8, 2013


The Moon Is My Muse. Charcoal and Graphite Pencil. © Liz Darling  2013.
Instructional demo for my drawing class...
I've been working with the moon a lot, and wanted to weave it into this image. The placement alludes to halos in religious iconography, a subject that has inspired a lot of my earlier work.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Self-Portrait As A Happy Meal Toy. McDonalds Toy, Air-dry clay, acrylic, toothpick. © Liz Darling  2012.

Speaking of experimentation, this is probably the strangest thing I've done in awhile. My daughter got a truly freakish Happy Meal toy from McDonalds. It was a cartoon-like bust of something resembling a Bratz doll. Bleached blonde, highly "made up", alien-sized eyeballs... very hypersexualized. I cringed to think of her playing with this toy (not that she seemed to pay it much notice anyway), so I took it into the studio and attempted to start painting over the overload of makeup and make the eyes a proportional "human" size. I got a little carried away, sculpting the face with air-dry clay, and creating a tiny pair of glasses out of a toothpick. The result of this madness is a tiny version of myself.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Self-Silhouette. © Liz Darling 2011. 

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Obliterate. © Liz Darling 2010. 
"Driving is a spectacular form of amnesia. Everything is to be discovered, everything to be obliterated."
Jean Baudrillard

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Kentile Floors, NYC. © Liz Darling 2007. 
Night Life, NYC. © Liz Darling 2007. 

The Loft, 2007.

The world is my oyster
The road is my home
And I know that I'm better off
Alone

- Ani D

Thursday, October 14, 2004

Artistic Suicide. Acrylic on Canvas. © Liz Darling  2004.