On the way home from the bowling alley in Queens. The subway ride was long, and above ground for much of the way. The kids were calm, and I drew when the subway went by a dark building and I could see my reflection. The need to work fast, plus the extensive rough urban surroundings, made the leaky, smudgy ball-point pen the perfect medium. It was also all I thought I had - until I remembered the craypas I keep in a baggie in my bag.
4.2.13, self portrait reflected in the subway window, above-ground; ball point pen and craypas, 4x6"
©Karen Kaapcke 2013
I woke up, thinking - what to do today? What does one do when one turns 50? My paints were in my studio, but the only thing that made any sense was to sit myself down right away, and take a good honest look at myself before I had any time to think. I found a watercolor block, and my drawing box and thus began a project of drawing myself every day for my 50th year. To live 50 as a painter, taking a good look each day, whether I have 2 minutes or an hour, and whether I want to or not. And in the way that iterations are not just repetitions but change due to the very fact of being repeated, I will live the year of 50.
Karen Kaapcke, September 2012
The Continuation: I have noticed in this, my 51st year, that I am more my body than ever. Yet I was suddenly barely recognizing it. The need to look at it and 'lean in' with it, to work with it, has become central. As a result, my body is becoming more my own. And more universally representative of the need to be present physically in a way that most women find only happens in the younger, sexy years. 51 = drawing the body.
Karen Kaapcke 3.30.13
A few years later, and I looked into the mirror - and was struck by how foreign my belly was to me. I still don't recognize myself.
Karen Kaapcke 9.20.16