This week I’ve commissioned a portraitist to paint a picture of Mum. Just because. 

I have in my possession seven postage-sized images of Genelle in her early 20s; well before she knew that one day she would be managing the antics of five children and generally being the all-round powerhouse that kept it together over the decades that would follow. In these seven images there’s a future that’s out there and all she has to do is get up from this particular photo session and go get it. These images freeze her in a state of readiness and expectation which I love.  

This is not the first portrait Mum has of herself. There is one in the guest bedroom in North Wollongong that was painted in Rome who knows how many years ago now. It’s not the best likeness of her but there’s going to be a few of us who would like this second rate picture in our respective homes when that time comes. This is one reason why I’ve gone out and found someone to paint her so when I miss out on bagging rights, I'll have my own commissioned portrait. I also look at these images of this woman and, to my eyes, she is stunning. I wanted that captured, frozen in something more permanent. Practically too, there's a risk these photos will go MIA. They’re very small and with the amount of moving around I’m doing at the moment, I have a real terror of losing them and if that happens it’ll send me into a state of grief of the likes I don’t care to contemplate at this point. 

The pictures show off a lush gorgeousness in contrast to her short hair. There’s also a chipped front tooth with a slight overbite that puts the photo-shopped, filtered, curated selfies of this age in the shade. The images are of their time but there’s also a modernity and a timelessness that reaches out across the years. And personally, if I had half those looks I’d have set the world on fire. Frankly. But that’s a whole other topic.

Not all the pictures are fully posed. The shutter has come down on one with her eyes closed and they don't have the crispness to emphasize those killer cheekbones and that unblemished skin. They're also faded and the quality is kinda crap but the essence, the warmth and the possibility of this young woman is very much there. 

The idea of the commission came the other day while I happened to be in a frenzy of cleaning and I accidentally swept some of the images into the bin. Crucially I realized the error before I dumped them outside. I retrieved them, sat at the desk and bawled as I lined the images carefully on the desktop. After the crying had subsided to the odd hiccup, I continued to gaze at her and the idea came to me in that quiet moment of contemplation. And it’s better to do something proactive rather than all the weeping and wailing I’ve been doing ad nauseam these past weeks.

The artist who's painting my mother is Ruth Shively. I discovered her on Instagram. I like the colors she uses. I find her brushwork has a modern blitheness but still displays something essential in her subjects. 

The portrait will be completed in about a month. In the meantime, I think about telling Mum what I’m doing but I know that it’s not going to resonate with the woman she has become but I hope I’ll at least be able to show her a picture of her likeness and get a smile of sorts or a momentary lapse into sanity. The hopes we have, hey?