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This was one of my first figure paintings after moving away from landscapes. Painting the human form intimidated me. Unlike landscapes, figures are unforgiving—draw a hand too large, and it’s immediately obvious. Twist a torso too far or not enough, and the figure looks awkward and stiff.
And while I had practiced figure drawing like so many others, let’s be honest: that doesn’t exactly prepare you to paint folds of clothing. Nobody tells you how useless all those nude gesture drawings are when it comes to rendering a jacket.

So where to begin? I chose to focus on a single figure—a manageable first step. To make the scene more engaging, I decided to include a chessboard. If I could get the gesture just right—make it feel like she was truly engaged with the game—it might even hint at a story. Ironically, the part I dreaded most—painting the chessboard in perspective—turned out to be one of the easier tasks.

As the painting developed, I left out the second player. Initially, it was out of hesitation—I wasn’t ready to add another person. But the absence began to suggest something more. Who is she playing against? Is there someone just out of frame? Or is this a solitary game?

To keep the focus on gesture and mood, I stripped away detail and worked with a very simple colour palette. The result is a quiet, ambiguous moment—and an early milestone in my shift toward figurative work. A painting born from intimidation, curiosity, and the kind of problem-solving that only happens with a brush in hand.

Looking back, this piece marks not just a technical experiment, but a mindset shift—where storytelling and gesture began to take centre stage over atmosphere and space.