The title is ironic: we all think we're 'big' in our own world, 'til one day we see that in the wider world, we're not. And when 'big' as in grown-up, our little one is waiting inside, much to our consternation breaking the surface at some inopportune moment, like when feeling very much alone... have I told you too much? I want you to dream your own narrative, but I'm insecure. 😳
This started life as an abstract drawing, lines reaching up toward some source, down to the ground, but that contrapasto came out perfectly, if wrong. I think (I wonder) if the original abstract feeling I had grew in this painting but I can't remember. All I know is I've seen this guy before, I know this guy, probably been him sometime.
I call this my '70s' painting, like everybody did these 'sketchy' things then; here's mine.
Sorry 'bout the photograph, took many, GIMPed along, yet I think some of the feeling shows through.
I can't decide if this is finished or not, the convenient appelation 'work-in-progress' appeals...
Big, 2017, oil on canvas, 30" x 24"