Cocky
50 cm x 70 cm, oil on linen, 2026
Cocky trained as a teacher at the Rietveld Academie. She wanted in so badly that she fibbed about her previous education. When her very first piece turned out to be a magnificent bull (I’ve seen it), her talent for sculpture became clear — but because they had to learn every discipline going at a punishing pace, on top of a mountain of theory subjects, there was little chance to further develop that talent. Later on she took up sculpture again, producing among other things a beautiful series of elegant penguins.
Cocky is clearly enjoying the whole process of sitting for her portrait and is happy and at ease. That changes when, towards the end, I turn the easel round. She hates it and is close to tears, it seems. I try to reassure her. “But I look like a frog!”
I think that she looks lovely — just as she is. But I am aware of how hard it can be to see (a version of) your own likeness. It’s as David Hockney put it: ‘What they think of it themselves isn’t really the point; what matters is what I think. I’m not painting their self-image, I’m painting what I see.’ To which I’d add that every one of my portraits is made from a genuine fondness for the person sitting in front of me.
After I announced that first Friday evening that I wanted to paint them all, there were, naturally, some questions. One person was a touch suspicious. “Well, he’s obviously trustworthy”, Cocky said then about me.
