My mother 1983

Chronis Botsoglou made this painting of his mother using washes of grey, white, and the occasional splash of crimson. I imagine him working quickly, almost desperately, trying to capture her essence before it fades away. I feel for Botsoglou here, painting family is always loaded, right? It’s like you’re wrestling with memory, emotion, and the very real presence of someone you love, or maybe loved. See how the paint seems to dissolve around the edges of her figure? It’s as if she's becoming part of the ground, or maybe she’s fading from his memory. There are these streaks of red running downwards, like tears or maybe blood. The way Botsoglou handles the paint, so loose and free, reminds me of Francis Bacon's portraits, that same sense of capturing a likeness while also revealing something raw and vulnerable. Painting is an ongoing conversation, and each artist builds on what came before, transforming it through their own experiences. When we create, we find new ways of seeing, feeling, and understanding the world, and maybe even ourselves.