The Colour of my Eyes

I like to think of this drawing as a story — one that unfolds as your eye travels.

Begin at the bottom edge and wander up: along the thighs, over a shoulder, across the breasts, past slightly parted lips. And then you reach for her eyes — but the paper has run out. They were never drawn. They exist only in your imagination, and it's left to you to see them, even to guess their colour.

That's the whole idea. She offers her body openly, hiding nothing, and yet the most intimate thing — her gaze — you have to supply yourself. The drawing becomes a quiet conversation in body language, suggesting rather than revealing, sensual but never explicit.

Pen and ink, black and white: diluted washes for soft greys, the saturated pen for fine detail. Elegance and sensuality held in balance.

An original drawing. Signed.

Jolanta