There’s something exciting about standing at the edge of something completely new.
For years I’ve painted landscapes, wildlife, and architecture. I know how to mix color. I understand values, edges, composition, and brushwork. So I figured portrait painting would just be another subject to learn.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I finally decided to take the plunge and paint my very first portrait. What better introduction than Doc Holliday from Tombstone? The movie has always been one of my favorites, and I thought it would make the perfect challenge.
The first few hours were filled with excitement. I had my reference, my sketch was laid down, and I was ready to go.
Then I made the first brushstroke.
Suddenly… I forgot how to paint.
Nothing looked the way I imagined it would. Every stroke felt wrong. The bold, loose confidence I admired in artists like Alpay Efe and The Paint Coach seemed impossible to achieve. I knew how to mix colors, but painting a face? That’s a completely different game played in a completely different ballpark.
Hours turned into frustration.
Frustration turned into self-doubt.
And self-doubt turned into beating myself up.
I caught myself thinking, “I thought I knew how to paint.”
Thankfully, I called Mia.
After talking with her, something clicked.
She reminded me of two very simple truths.
First… this is my first portrait.
Second… I can only get better from here.
Those two thoughts changed everything.
Of course it wasn’t going to look the way I envisioned it. Of course it was going to be difficult. I was asking my brain and my hands to learn something entirely new.
Portraits aren’t just another painting—they’re their own language.
And I’m just learning to speak it.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized this is exactly why I wanted to do it in the first place. I’ve wanted to learn portrait painting for a long time—not to paint like someone else, but to eventually paint portraits in my own style.
That’s going to take time.
It’s going to take a lot of ugly paintings.
It’s going to take frustration.
But it will also take persistence.
I’ve learned something about myself over the years. Whenever something feels impossibly hard—or someone says I can’t do it—a switch flips inside me. I don’t become motivated to prove them wrong.
I become determined to prove to myself that I can.
Not by copying another artist.
Not by chasing someone else’s style.
But by finding my own voice, even if that means becoming a beginner all over again.
There’s something humbling about starting over. It reminds you what every artist goes through. It reminds you that growth isn’t comfortable, and confidence isn’t something you’re born with—it’s earned one painting at a time.
So here’s to portrait number one.
It isn’t perfect.
It isn’t what I imagined.
But it’s the beginning of something I’ve wanted for a long, long time.
And honestly?
I can’t wait to paint the next one.
