Vermillion Bed

In the guest room, seated at the foot of the bed he put on his shoes. Daylight from the window above the lamp illuminated his ears and shining dark hair. I asked him to stay there to be painted but he couldn't--or wouldn’t. It was the light that struck me so I went on without him. The brass boy was a charming but disappointing little substitute. Vermillion from the blanket danced around the room. It splashed onto the walls, onto the lamp and even the teal furniture, which it would normally mute. Why was the appearance of the furniture bowing so much in the painting? The distortion seems exaggerated yet I measured it so carefully. There’s no mistake.

Vermillion Bed, 2003, oil on panel