Dorian Gray?

A failed lockdown romance jump-started a weird, morbid interest in vanity. A couple of portraits were born: self-obsessed, garish, decaying figures in the forefront.

Watercolour was surprising. I’d grown up dabbling in a few dollar-store quick-paint palettes, but the plastic nib of a stylus was even less intuitive than a cheap plastic brush. I think this is compensated for with a huge variety of brush options in Photoshop, which allows for a great degree of control over otherwise happy-accident techniques.

As you can see, the stuff below isn’t united by a project goal. The first two were commissions from friends to support Black Lives Matter during the incidents in 2020; the hands were just a small reassurance that, despite struggling to find palettes, I could still draw somewhat.