I started this piece after reading a story from the gender stereotype project N. and I are currently working on. In this story a man shares his long moment of trepidation in the store: he is contemplating probably having to buy this fancy cheese, because he’s a man and has to be generous and a provider of goods, and then, after a while, succumbs to what he calls his innate Jewish frugality (and ends up not buying the cheese after all). It’s hard to describe all that went into this piece, I spent over a week working on it, and this week was very intense. There was thinking about the actual story, of course. Of feeling you have to do something because you’re a man/woman. I think about that a lot, square pics or not. There’s this David Foster Wallace story, it’s in Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, about the guy that services you like a Ferrari and never lets you do anything for him. I cried when I first read it.
But mostly, the original story worked as a starting point, and
I love the way the moon and the stars are hanging on strings. I love how the strings partly blend into the background. I love the contrast of his tense face and the otherwise tranquil scene.
I spent a lot of time figuring out his face, I wanted it to have a certain hardness, and he kept turning out like a tender romantic youth, moon gazing. That was not what I wanted. But I think I got what I
Mom asked if his eyes were going to fall off his face. I don’t know, I don’t have an answer to that, I don’t know which way the situation will go. As usual: that happens in a lot of my pics — a moment that can go either this way or that. But as usual, I hope he will be OK. I really care for my characters and always wish them the very best.
I really think the cheese is much less of a danger than he seems to be feeling. I’m quite sure he is well aware with his conscious mind. But I also know how hard it can be to process that thought when the cheese is right there, right in front of you.