Usually, I find the process exhilarating. And, I often have a problem finding the sense of completion in a project – I too often feel that urge for a little tweaking here or a touch more something there… but, getting a piece to that finished point, that’s the real moment of pride for me.

This piece was a bit different, though. The portrait was made about a year after his father had passed away, in Iran, just after my husband had been home to see him for the first time since he’d left decade before. Just weeks before I drew the portrait, his sister had mailed the two B&W 5x7 photos I used, and he talked about having them blown up to portrait size – that’s what inspired me to create the portrait as a gift. I admit, when I was drawing it – and it was going so well that I was certain it would be one of the best things I’d ever done – that I was filled with a sense of expectation of the pride the completed portrait was always going to give me. It turned out to be my personal masterpiece. But, when I presented it to my husband, one small tear fell as he smiled at his father’s face… That’s what invariably comes to my mind ever since when I look at that portrait.