A Thriller


The incomplete painting lay dormant in the stack with others, waiting. I placed it there intentionally years ago. I needed to walk away from the smeared whitewashed face and the oh so boring hat. The collar though, it had intrigue. I did not yet know the artist I would become so the pile waited for new eyes.

Recently as I flipped through the stack in hunt of a new project the woman caught my attention, I was ready. Feeling my way down one side of her face and tweaking blue pigment into her eyes the painting suddenly jumped to life. Her forward glance now darted behind her. The whitewashed smear, the hat transformed into a heart beat of raw strokes. The intrigue of the collar reveals itself; someone follows.