I don’t want to paint big pink heads, when I started painting portraits; I looked for what I love about other people’s portraits.

Amy Shuckbrugh is a painter friend of mine also in London. She is eloquent and delicate. I wish I could be half as ladylike as her. The funny thing is, in The Muse, a large self portrait attempt, I painted her. Each time looking into my own round and pink face and scribbling away her willowy eyes and petite nose.

Anna Judd is a painter I met while shooting a reality show about artists. It wasn’t this one

She seemed uncertain when I met her; like she was a little scared of the world. Her paintings have stayed with me, wriggling into my thoughts. Her tender tragedy and plastic handling make me want to wipe away her tears.

Clair Alexander is a London based portrait painter whom I really love, She uses blues and purples, colors that infuse the vitality and life into the sitter.

For a while in London I was painting a lot of portraits. I can capture other people. The light around them, their confidence or lethargy, that moment in their character that invites you in through their eyes.

But when it comes to painting me, I can’t help but paint a piggy squiggle. I assure you that I do not have quite such a wide porcine snout, my complexion is not so ruddy and I don’t always look dumbfounded.

I am working with another handicap; I am using acrylic not oil. I love the vibrant colors and lackadaisical dry time of oil, the way it slips gently onto the canvas. It dries clear and the colors are true. Acrylic is chalky, clumsy, fast and uneven to dry. It is like making love with oven mitts on. But it is not toxic will not erode my brain or poison my blood.

This is my first attempt with my new parameters and I am thoroughly unsatisfied; I will have to try again. I promise to keep you posted.