What I drew at first was all well and good. And then I went running. And with the energy I gained with each step I felt first, that all was not well and good - I kept thinking about the drawing as if it were still undone - and just as quickly came the sense of how much darker it needed to be. The light was dim, the sky remained stormy. Dark but with still the sense of light pulsing in or something. But mainly, each running step came at me with - push it more, push it more. While I am trying not to over-think this particular sentiment, I can't help but notice that there's no time but now. Really. What's to lose?
5.15.13, self porrtait, darker; graphite, 5x7", ©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