Oil on canvas
Private collection

2024.7.25 | 40cm×40cm  

A Spark of Genius: The Story of My First Portrait

My journey into painting began long before that memorable evening. Back when the world still seemed like a blur of bright splashes of color, I was already trying to capture them on paper—starting with childhood scribbles and clumsy lines, with no idea where it would eventually lead.

The catalyst for my first serious piece was a family movie night watching a documentary about the invention of electricity. We were all gathered around the screen.

The following evening, an unbearable boredom came over me. Time seemed to stand still, and the faces of the people who changed the world suddenly flashed in my memory—especially, for some reason, the image of Albert Einstein.

Boredom instantly gave way to resolve. My hand reached confidently for the box of oil paints—the very palette my parents had given me out of the blue, just because.

I didn’t care about the rules. I simply squeezed out titanium white, yellow ochre, and burnt umber, pulling the surface closer on the desk. Stroke by stroke. The paint went on thick, staining my fingers. I lost myself in the process: steady breathing, the reflection of the lamp in my eyes, and only the magic movement of my hand.

Oil painting demands focus, but I wasn’t obsessing over the outcome. Before long, a wet portrait of Albert Einstein lay on the table, smelling of linseed oil and turpentine. I showed it to my family right away; caught completely by surprise, they were genuinely thrilled.

Today, that framed portrait hangs in a place of honor. Years have passed, techniques have evolved, and looking back, the piece feels naive: the proportions are off, the brushstrokes sharp and raw.

Yet sealed beneath that layer of aged oil is so much pure effort and joy. Whenever I feel stuck or burned out, I look at it—at that young girl who, on one utterly ordinary evening, decided to chart a new path for herself.