Soon, I owned all the shades of colors available from the major houses who produce quality pencils, and the ones I most prefer are those called aquarelle pencils. Not that I often do mix them with a drop of water, but their softness, viscosity and consistency are a pleasure to work with — especially on just the right paper.
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But let’s return to my pencils. When I begin a drawing, I start off with the lighter colors, covering large areas of paper to create a basic tone of soft skin. Days later, the shape of a Yoni or flower begins to emerge when I add layers and layers of various shades of pink and rose, yellow and violet — there are way more colors than we have names for.
Next to the paper I’m working on, all my pencils are usually spread out on the table, arranged by color and hue, starting with the deep red of blood and ending with the palest available rosy pink and the lightest ivory shade that reminds one of the soft flesh hidden within the hard shell of an oyster. There are browns as well, yellows and violets. There’s Royal Purple, Lavender Blush and Old Lace, Misty Rose and Light Coral.
However, to create the multitude of colors displayed by the Yoni, her lips and her clitoris, no single one of these colors will do. They have to be mixed and mingled, one on top of the other in a process that never seems to come to an end — until I realize at a given moment that all is well, that my drawing reflects the Yoni of that particular woman as well as it can.
This description more or less sums up how each of the intimate portraits in this book came into being.
Christina Camphausen
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