Oil on canvas, 10"x8"
Portrait of a moody flapper in a cafe. I experimented with using cooler, bluer colors than usual for the flesh tones in this painting. I wanted to imply her ghostly pallor and the smoky haze of a bar back in the day.
Perhaps she's waiting for a date who's late or thinking about the boy who never came back from the war. Or maybe she's just wondering what she lost in herself and how she ended up here. I've always been fascinated by the Lost Generation, the seemingly dissolute and world-weary survivors of the Great War who partied their way through Europe in the 1920s. This girl could be Lady Brett Ashley or Nicole Diver, those enigmatic and compelling characters created by Hemingway and Fitzgerald, the feminine personifications of that confused, hedonistic era. These memorable women weren't the most admirable in literature but the flawless seldom haunt.
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