“This time, I brought my easel and set it up in the frozen grass in front of Suzanna’s statue. In the light from the setting sun, she glowed gold. I sketched her directly onto the primed canvas, then daubed paints onto my palette, mixing up a deep green. I filled in the space all around her, slowly adding texture to create a background of pine trees. I painted her pedestal next. At its base, I included the pot of carnations Jonas Whittaker had left her last night and, of course, the white li...lies. Her long hooded cloak I kept in white, as if it were still made of stone. But instead of cold ivory curls beneath it, I painted flaming red spirals. Her face I did last, because it was the most important and also the most difficult. I held her self-portrait for Owen in my mind—her tempestuous mouth, her clear hazel eyes—as if I could combine the way she saw herself with the way everyone else saw her. Eventually, the sky darkened, and it became harder and harder to see her, especially her eyes.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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