I want to make a public admission of remorse, first and foremost, so that I can continue with a clearer conscience, if possible. A few years ago, I made a portrait of the family member of someone who had done great things. I thought that I was doing it with the very best intentions, but should not be judged by the apparent eloquence of my speech when making such apologies. This was someone that I had always had the greatest appreciation for, for I truly did believe in what they were doing at the time. I still do, yet over the years, repeatedly people judged this person so harshly and so severely that I myself became confused at times as to the sincerity and earnestness of the man's intentions. The portrait I made was of one deceased, from this person's extended family.
I am abhored by myself now thinking of what I did. I thought I was being prudent, doing it for the right reasons. All would be fine and dandy except that a moment ago it just occurred to me that I had published in a photo album on-line what was essentially just a private sketch in my daily art practise. That the sketch was made in the first place, in the privacy of my Atelier, this I hope can be forgiven. No one is permitted to enter the sanctity of such a private place as the studio of an established professional painter, that would be a disgrace and an indignity, if it were done without his consent and that there could be no doubt about whether he or she consented to the entry or not.
Yet here I was all this time myself not aware that I had done that thing that I most abhor in the world at times: I had myself intruded into the private, personal life of a solitary individual in the sense that I can never have the right to manipulate or move things around or enter into their personal history for my own satisfaction, unless I was being asked to do so by them or on their behalf, then it would have been my duty to accept their request and accommodate to their desires. That is neither pleasant not satisfactory to me but part of the work I felt compelled to do in my life, which was follow in the tradition of my ancestors.
I want to say it was an accident, but it was unacceptable behavior on my part and can never be forgiven as far as I am concerned. I have removed the picture and must now ensure that it doesn't exist anywhere.
If there is a problem, it has my signature on it and so cannot be forged, and I will answer for what I have done. I only ask one thing, that I be treated fairly and with dignity, and that I be allowed to do something to make it right, or that I be forgiven for my own indolence.
One can think and say that "It's just a portrait" but nothing is ever just a portrait. In fact, nothing is ever just an image or a canvas or a symbol or a word or a name or a person or anything in this world, when it is a question of what a person thinks and says. But the sanctity of a person and their rights to dignity in life and in death, what I did could have been deemed a sacrilege, and for that atrocity I can never forgive myself.
Again, one can say "The artist in his youth made a tiny slip up," but that can never be used to justify getting it wrong when you had every reason to be getting it right, and should have gotten it right in the first place. It's important for me as an artist, in any case, to be very careful, wary, and ever prudent in how I administer the economy internal to my daily practise, that nothing that leaves the Atelier ever be misconstrued by anyone. For anyone harmed by what I have painted, I am to be held accountable for it, for it was the work of my own hands. You can forget that History might remember me as the man who made the lousy portrait to begin with, because that is unimportant. It was a portrait and all the Honor goes to those who I might have offended who should never have been offended. I have the right to do my work, to paint portraits or what have you, but I do not have the right to offend you. No one does.
Lastly, I didn't think it was funny at the time. I did it with the same ardent hyper-solemnity with which I always do my work when I am at home. Once again, this only stresses and emphasizes how important it is for painters to always keep their art within the confines of the canvas itself. It is why we invented Frames. It would be the same for a writer who failed to keep the writing on the page. For when writing goes off the page, people could be hurt or offended, and that is unpardonable offence in my book.
https://chumly.com/n/21d6208
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