This story was partly inspired by my mother. She was an artist who refused to paint family!
I was honoured to win the Tacchi Morris “The Page is Printed 2023: Creative Writing Competition’s” Somerset Prize. They were kind enough to say: “Jason Gibbs’ entry to The Page is Printed was titled Portrait and the judges all agreed that the writer used great skill to tell a powerful story in so few words; this economy is hard to achieve. The judges were also reminded of mythological tales in terms of the tragic inevitability of the narrative.”
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Portrait
By Jason Gibbs
“I never paint portraits of family or friends, it can cause… friction shall we say.”
I was disappointed, as she was talented.
“What about self portraits?”
“Narcissistic, no… vulnerable,” she laughed.
“Cartoons?”
She frowned at him, and waved it away, saying, “Nothing more than caricatures, or signatures, it’s not the same.”
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I asked her again after we’d been together for a year.
“No, I love you too much.”
“But you’re so talented…”
She smiled, but said nothing.
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“And you never paint me!” I hated that I sounded whiny, and that this was my final comeback. We’d been arguing, again, for at least an hour, and I was exhausted. I couldn’t even remember why. I mean, I knew why, but I didn’t know what had started it.
She looked at me, and gave me a bittersweet smile, and said, “Fine, I’ll paint you.”
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“That’s me?”
“Yes,” she said. There was tenderness in her voice.
I looked at the painting. It was good, but I felt that it made me look, well ugly. The me in the painting was tired, angry looking. The wrinkles were deeper than those I saw in the mirror each morning.
“I see.”
“You understand now?”
I did, she was saying goodbye.