Sometimes a struggle is captured in a single painting. Or photograph, or sketch… And this is one I’ve immediately identified with. It’s a representation of where I’ve been these past few days as I’ve struggled to stay awake, or get out of bed. Or stay focused. Or write a few words, or wonder why I can’t have a magic pill that would allow me to overcome whatever it is I need to overcome. This is what I look like today, purely as an abstraction as I’m not that thin. You can see the depth of despair that you know will always linger within even though there is a bit of hope or signs of life that have surfaced—not entirely, mind you—yet skimming the face, eyes, lips. Maybe the eyebrows perched into a worrisome frame. It’s not clear to me what the worry is contemplating or considering. Maybe nothing at present—perhaps a comment on the state of being. And then again sometimes it is difficult to tell the difference between a comment and a reflection.
I looked up Roman having not heard of him before seeing this painting. That effort has rendered the painting yet more of an enigma, as Zakrzewski is a man and his primary focus was painting this singular woman. Not a “Her portrait…” as indicated on the post. Not much more information is given as entries are in Polish and one of the signatures of the particular struggle I seem closed within is laziness. Translations are often a mouse click too far. (Not a bridge at all.)
And so here we are left once again, with the waaaayyyyy things are.