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One of the many things I learned from my students during the years I taught classes in watercolor, figure drawing and oil painting was that often the biggest obstacle the students faced was their own fear of making mistakes. It seems natural that we want to impress a teacher, to get her or his approval. So we draw and paint the best we can and yet we discover that we are more apt to create mistakes and messes than artworks we can be proud of. Often my attempts to console students who were struggling (without exception, all were struggling at some level!) were successful, especially when I used baseball as an example. “If you get a hit once every three times you step up to the plate, you are considered a superb player. But this means you have failed two out of three times! How do you accept such failures? This is a question only you can resolve.”

Keeping messes and mistakes in mind, here are the latest phases in my transformation of Paco’s Aunt. Into what, you wonder? Well, I wonder too. But the deeper I wander into the woods, the more it seems that the painting is not about about her being any “thing.” It’s more about her having been, and now becoming . . . I’m hoping to answer questions, resolve mistakes and have a finished painting within a week or ten days. Thanks for your patience.

Meanwhile, I offer these latest changes for whomever might need some encouragement. If a painting is not a struggle, then what’s the point? Aren’t our imaginations always prodding us ahead of ourselves and our skills as artists always lagging behind? Isn’t this is just life, totally normal?

Several days ago, I posted two images that showed the beginning of the transformation of a portrait of a woman, the result of a challenge given to me by her nephew. They were the first of a series; here are the next two phases. Lapo Guzzini, my friend and colleague, calls the transformation of the portrait, “creative destruction.” But what does it mean to create destructively? Or to destroy creatively? Such paradoxes resist explanation. I hope the images themselves will give you some insights.

I have had only two clear objectives in this endeavor: to respect the woman and also the artist who painted her. There are other objectives, but they remain far from clear. For example, I’d love to paint what I’m not able to see. A thought like this may sound odd coming from a visual artist: we’re supposed to paint things people can see, aren’t we? Also, for many years I have been fascinated by change; I mean by everything changing, constantly and always. So how does one paint change on a flat surface? I don’t know, and I’m not being coy in saying so. It’s true: I don’t know. The best course I follow then, is to experiment. And to trust. Something will happen.

So I apologize for this mess I’ve made of the portrait. But it’s only temporary. Phases 4 and 5 will come along soon. Thank you, I appreciate your patience in following the trials of the metamorphosis of this poor woman. We’ll find our way out of the woods. Perhaps better said: we’ll find our way by going deeper into the woods, and getting lost.

During a career as a professional artist for the past 50 years, I have become accustomed to painting unexpected subjects. Especially, it seems, when I’m living in Valencia, Spain. For example, a lovely young friend here once asked me to paint her unclothed (her, not me) because “I’ll never again have the beautiful body I have now. I want to show my grandchildren what I used to look like.”

Then last week my friend Paco asked for a favor. He showed me an oil painting of a woman and wondered if I wouldn’t mind destroying it for him. It was a traditional portrait of his deceased aunt, painted by a well-known Valencian artist in 1974. By “destroying” it, he meant defacing it: Miguel, he said, you can do whatever you want with this woman, especially if you paint a big red X over her. Whatever you do, I’m going to keep her and hang her above my desk.

Evidently he and his aunt did not get along. Had she willed the painting to him out of spite because she knew that he would have had to pay a hefty inheritance tax on it? Was he going to save her defaced image in order to spite her, even in her grave? (He and I will have to talk.)

Meanwhile, yes, I said, but no red X’s! I’ll transform her, but into something beautiful we can both be proud of. So during these next few weeks, I’ll share with you the story of his aunt’s metamorphosis.

Here’s an image of her portrait and my first response: to cut a blindfold out of the fabric of an old umbrella so that her ghost won’t be able to see what I’m up to.

More images will follow in a few days. Thank you for staying in touch.