What is a "Portrait of Someone"?

There is a series of work which are titled some variation of "portrait of someone". I'd like to share the purpose, origin and philosophy behind them being titled this way.

I often say that I've always been an artist. It's true! Ever since I can remember I've been drawing people. I've evolved from the strictly pencil drawings of my childhood, but the subject matter that interests me has remained - people. I made up families and scenarios as a kid, drawing whole storylines and elaborate worlds. People continue to fascinate me, so much that I gave birth to three of them and spent three years in graduate school studying them. Dedication!

Throughout the years, between babies and school, I have sat in front of my easel and consistently filled many a canvas with a face of... someone. This is my comfort painting; twisting strokes into mouth and nose, blending colors on the canvas with my brush to create the tones of the skin and creating a whole elaborate world in a person's face. There is something freeing about creating a person out of thin air. No reference photo to compare to, no expectations, no limits. These paintings are my play.

I used to call them "portrait of no one", but as I have grown in awareness that no longer seemed true. This reflects my evolution as a person and an artist. In the past, I would focus my energy trying to fit into this kind of artist, or that kind. I used to feel ashamed that I "couldn't" create a portrait based on an actual person. This motivated me into challenging myself with this task when my second child was a baby. I used watercolor, ink and pencil to create live portraits, and even painted portraits of friends to practice. For so long I have wondered what caused that to "fail", and I see now that art motivated by shame does not work for me. I eventually gave up trying so hard to avoid this feeling, and rather began painting only what I wanted to. How do I know what I really want to paint, without external motivation? I sat at my easel, gently looked inside myself, and allowed the paint to flow. I began painting lines and shapes, no faces in sight. It was unfamiliar but it felt more true. Gradually, as I have worked on myself, allowing what is true to be, the faces have come back.

I've been asked, "Why faces?" I think faces are special. Faces tell a story. A furrowed brow, corners of mouth turned down, eyes looking away - this may be disappointment. A baby's features are more round than an older child or adults, an older person's face grows lines, evidence of living. A caregiver's face is the first sight babies look to for comfort. We are united by our common features. Each of these portraits has character and tells a story. Even if it's imagined. Now I create them with less shame and more

curiosity, wondering who will appear this time. Who will show up in the next "portrait of someone".