Rediscovering the gesture

Lately, I haven't been making as much progress as I'd like in the workshop.

There are the autumn tasks, the obligations, and the days that pass too quickly. But there is also something else, something harder to name.

I'm at the stage of painting the faces of my characters. It's been a while since I last did that and, I must admit, I lack a bit of confidence.

It's still strange, after all these years of painting, to sometimes feel like you've lost your touch!

In front of the canvas, I doubt myself. I search for the right gesture, the right color, the right expression. I watch the face appear, then I'm almost afraid of rushing it, of not being able to give it what I have in mind.

I know it will come back, though. I just need to get my movements, my colors, and my habits back. But, right now, this confidence that seemed so assured suddenly feels very fragile.

So I take my time. I observe, I make a few attempts, I return to my canvas. Sometimes I let it dry and step away for a bit. Then I come back to look, hoping to recognize something.

I don't want to rush this stage. Faces are too important to what I'm trying to express. That's where my characters truly begin to exist. That's where they look back at me.

And despite the hesitations, I still feel very comfortable in my workshop. Even when I have doubts, I feel that I am exactly where I need to be.

I'm slowly starting to find my bearings with these characters again. One gesture returns, then another. Little by little, confidence returns too, discreetly, without making a sound.

The more I paint them, the more I tame them. And perhaps in taming them, I find myself a little bit too.

Ultimately, I believe that's also part of the pleasure of painting: moving forward despite doubt, staying present, and gradually seeing life appear under the brush.