This is part 2 of a series that looks back at my art journey and recounts the experience of being on Portrait Artist of the Year. Part 1 can be found here.

We were in this together. That first phone call was the start of a very distinct feeling: like a current or tide was gradually taking us into waters that were moving in ways we’d not experienced. Uncharted territory. All Amanda and I knew and felt was to just go with the process as it was delivered. Let’s see where this takes us.

Another meeting was locked in for a week later, a video call. In that week we ditched the small art desk, assigning our dining table in its place to give us the space for two to work side by side. We saw the announcement emerge that unveiled the show’s official title. We filmed sample videos, little elevator pitches of ourselves and our art.

And we worked on our self-portraits.

Portrait Artist of the Year sees entrants submit a self-portrait, a showcase of their work and artistic style. It’s also a slice of storytelling: a moment that captures the artist’s personality, their history, their essence. Those who make it on the show see their self-portraits mounted on the iconic wall, a gallery-like display that the judges will examine thoughtfully for the cameras.

I’d never done a self-portrait before.

Not in a traditional medium, at least. I’d done one as a digital painting years ago and that felt inconsequential by comparison. This felt totally different. This portrait had to be more. It had to do more. I didn’t have one in the tank ready to go. But I had a week to make one.

Under pretty much every lighting condition I could conjure, I took references photos for a piece that I thought would be thoughtful or moody. You know, “here’s the profound artist, looking serious, unfiltered.” I produced a charcoal portrait based on one of these, but it didn’t really feel right or look right.

Days ticked by.

I didn’t feel comfortable fronting up to that meeting with that as the one and only piece that would prove my worth. I had a look through my photo reel, delving way back into months, years earlier, for a shot that sparked something. I found a bunch of selfies taken during COVID lockdown, at the height of the pandemic’s gremlin era where we were all working from home and watching the news every morning for the latest new cases report. Among them was a shot of me in a dressing gown, my unkempt hair desperately needing a barber, and my cat Amy pressing an insistent paw to my face as she licked my ear.

The claws and the kisses.

It took three goes, and around eight or nine hours spread across a few days, but eventually I got that one gremlin moment into a charcoal self-portrait. It wasn’t thoughtful or moody; now there was a contrast of humour, a thousand-yard-stare brought back to earth, however painfully, the way a loving pet knows how. Or maybe I’m overanalysing it. Maybe it’s just a moment that makes me smile.

And then, to make sure I put the remainder of the week towards covering all my bases, I did one more self-portrait in graphite.

When the meeting happened, I showed all three to Aimee in our video call, to demonstrate more examples of my work and let the reactions guide the way. The claws and the kisses emerged the favourite.

The meeting lead to more meetings. A hydra of meetings. When one was done, three more were arranged. Basically we just went along with the process as one step led to the next, not really knowing if it would all amount to something or nothing. But between ourselves, Amanda and I adopted a mindset of “let’s proceed on the assumption that we get in. Let’s use this time to practice.”  

We arted hard. In the weeks that followed, every spare moment was put into making art. We chose photo references for each other. We got friends to sit for us. In each exercise, there was one constant: a four hour limit to produce a portrait from what was we were given. Not every session was successful.

*Some of my practice portraits. Some less successful than others. (A3, charcoal and graphite)*

Meetings. Lots of meetings. Meetings for each of us individually, as well as one meeting of Amanda and I together, to give the production team a look at us as a couple. I think they were wanting to stoke some fires of friendly competition, but really, all we can ever be are each other’s biggest supporters.

And then, nothing. The Christmas period rolled in and things, as they tend to do during that time, kind of slowed down. Then came the new year. Food. Fireworks. We wondered what 2025 would bring.

Mid-way through January, on a Thursday morning, my phone rang. “Hi, it’s Nicole from Portrait Artist of the Year. I tried calling Amanda but couldn’t get through. Do you have a moment?”

I got in.

But not just that.

We got in.

To be continued…

The Path to Portrait Artist of the Year - Part 2

The Path to Portrait Artist of the Year - Part 1