By Carol Reynolds

On December 14th, 2024, something special happened at the Christmas Market in Kiosko del Parque, Covzíjar. It was cold, the sky was blue, and I was about to do something I’d never done before—run a live art event, in public, with actual people watching. Gulp.

The Invitation: Be My Muse


Here’s how I put the word out on social media: “Women are invited to pose for a 10-minute, live sketch. During this time, I will:
– Capture your likeness in pencil
– Chat with you about what makes you feel strong
– Record colours and details that reflect your essence


These sketches will be completed in my studio after the event and become part of my new collection: My Muses — a celebration of feminine strength and unity.”

And guess what? Women stepped forward. Not just to pose, but to be part of something—something that felt alive and creative and ours. They sent me pictures of themselves in moments where they felt “strong and in their power.” I was already moved before we even began.

Market Day Magic (and Cold Fingers)


I arrived early, bundled up, and set up my stall with prints, merch, and some of my previous pieces. At 2 PM sharp, my first muse appeared—TJ, wrapped in a magenta hat and armed with stories about her love of reading. And just like that, I was sketching.

Despite being a self-taught artist of only two years (and nervous as hell), something beautiful started unfolding. Thanks to the warm support of our event host Irene and the good vibes from every woman who showed up, my nerves started to melt away (even if my hands didn’t).


A Parade of Powerful Women


And then came the parade of power:
 Chantelle and Justine laughing over beers
 Lisa with her scissors
 Sandra with her dog
 Eliza reading aloud from a ceremonial script
 Lucy deep in study mode
 And finally, Ramanja, radiating presence with her drum and feathers

Each sketch felt electric. My hands shook from the cold—or maybe from the intensity of the energy. I packed up that evening exhausted, grateful, and already buzzing to bring the final collection to life.


When the Art Hits Back


But… it didn’t go as planned.
I hit a block. Hard. I’m used to quick life drawings—often unclothed, anonymous, emotionally raw. Suddenly, I had these clothed, joyful, powerful women in front of me, and their stories weren’t anonymous. I knew them.
Trying to recreate their portraits back in the studio threw me. The first attempts didn’t feel like mine. They were forced, flat, overly naturalistic—but not in a good way. I’d lost my rhythm. And honestly, I felt like I was losing my voice.
I realised I was struggling to depict strength that wasn’t my own. I’m used to expressing sadness, rage, complexity—this was a new challenge. I wanted to honour their beauty, and in doing so, I doubted my own.

The Messy Middle


So, I’ve paused the project. I haven’t abandoned it—far from it. I think about those muses constantly. But I need to get it right. I’ve gone back to basics, studying new techniques, trying to upskill. But that’s brought its own chaos. Suddenly, my work looks generic—dead, even. So now I’m sitting in the awkward middle—caught between raw expression and a desire to grow.

A Work in Progress (Just Like Us)


To all the women who came: thank you. You validated me as an artist in ways I didn’t even know I needed. I’m sorry your portraits are still in progress. But maybe that’s the point. Aren’t we all? I haven’t forgotten you. I won’t. This project isn’t over. It’s just marinating. The lightbulb moment will come—and when it does, My Muses will get the justice they deserve.

Watch this space.

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