Tentative first strokes, as if the painting needs to settle itself into the canvas. A bit like a dog circling on its bed before it finds the position that fits its body. Slowly it takes on its own life and the shadows begin to mould themselves into the folds of skin, colours merge and the painting pulses with life. No control over the process as my right hand takes over from my left, the fingers of which are cramping.
If the painting oozes the wisdom, thousands of years, passed between elephants, elephantoms, then it has achieved my expectations.