When Self-Portraits Tell the Story
Anna Nike Leskowsky
Toronto, ON
Anna Nike Leskowsky was a journalist in Poland. After immigrating to Canada, she worked as an elementary school teacher until she retired in 2018. Her articles and essays, written in the English language, were published in Canadian Teacher Magazine, Canadian Immigrant Magazine, The Toronto Star, and college textbooks. Canadian Art Therapy Association Magazine “Envisage” featured her artwork and reflections about art in the fall issues of 2021 and 2022. Anna Nike Leskowsky currently lives in Toronto.
On My Birthday, watercolour, 9 in x 12 in, 2022
A desire to connect with other people through painting portraits was always a part of my creative work. I painted images of my daughter to express love for her; I drew impressions of my brothers to communicate the unconditional bond between us; I included my other family members in this process because I missed or admired them and naturally, I turned to painting self-portraits to explore my own identity. Every time I chose a reference photograph for my self-portrait, I hesitated. How could studying proportions of my face or expressions concealed behind my eyes help me develop a mature relationship with myself? I was worried that painting my own image would not be enjoyable or, perhaps, I might discover something that I didn’t want to know about myself. This last thought was interesting enough to encourage me to draw and paint a few self-portraits, which I started in my late twenties.
My first self-portrait, called “Unreal,” contained just a few lines. The eyebrows extended to the cheekbones and the nose. The eyes were staring at the viewer from inside the drawing as if they were symbols of eyesight without the real ability to see. The lips were lacking any emotion. The whole face was a mask. I was young then and ready to express myself through poetry. A little booklet with my poems was about to be published. To lower the price, the publisher asked me to design a cover. Using my self-portrait seemed like a good solution. However, I needed to make a design that would connect with my poems.
I added a background to my portrait and placed the black and white image of my face on a poster, displayed on a dark building covered with grey windows and white cracks on the walls. A simple bridge extended from the building leading to a symbolic figure of a man, blinded by a beam of light coming out of one the windows.
The design for the cover of the booklet was referring to one of my poems, titled “Prośba” (“A Request”) that translates from Polish to English as: “don’t look at me / it’s much better / when I see your back / in real sunshine // this is the only chance / to take a walk together / when you know that someone follows / you / one step away // it could be your son / but it’s me / offered to you / and my fear / when you gaze at me // wait / it is my entire life / that separates us from heading together / side by side / face to face.”
The meaning of both the artwork and the poem was clear. As a young woman, I craved a deep connection with other people. I placed my self-portrait on a poster because I wanted to be seen. I created a bridge between the shaky foundation of the building and another person on the other side of the bridge, but I blinded him with the beam of light so he couldn’t see me. The cold mask stayed on my face.
At the age of 28, I realized that creativity could help me understand my journey through life. Drawing my own image was not dull at all. Quite the opposite: it was exhilarating to explore my quest for how to connect with myself and others. Wearing the social mask seemed helpful at times. Nevertheless, it hindered meaningful contact with other people.
I kept my mask on when I painted a self-portrait called “Teacher.” I couldn’t recognize myself in this painting. It was an image of a person in a social role marked by responsibility towards others and a complete disconnection with her own needs. I keep this portrait at the bottom of my drawer without any plans of sharing it with anyone. Even so, I have no regrets of painting it. Lessons learned through this artwork were illuminating. I needed to start balancing the requirement to serve other people with the necessity to understand my own needs.
I painted “Unmasking” when I was gaining a better awareness of who I was. I chose a photograph taken by my friend as a reference for this self-portrait. She took a picture of me in a pub where we went for a relaxing dinner at the end of summer. I wore bright colours and enjoyed a tasty dish that reminded me of my heritage and dishes prepared by my mother.
I played a “hide and seek” game. A realistic image of me settled comfortably in a warm environment of my friend’s favourite pub. I hid a few messages on the walls; some important dates from my life instead of the menu and the words “Who am I?” on a display. When my friend saw this self-portrait, she said, “Something is missing.” I knew that she was right. The mask was sliding off my face, but the layers of social expectations remained untouched. The answer to the question, “Who am I?” was missing indeed.
My latest self-portrait, called “On My Birthday” brought some answers to the question, “Why am I here?” I am smiling in this painting and looking down at something that is not visible to a potential viewer. There is a story behind this image. One of my friends treated me with the most elaborate cake for my birthday. I was surprised and delighted with her thoughtfulness, discovering my inner child, happy to celebrate the simple fact of life. I realized that as long as I am asking questions, such as “Who am I?” or “Why am I here?” I don’t need to find the final answer. I am here to explore life to the fullest and enjoy living the way I was born, a human being with a desire to create connections between myself and others. A self-portrait turned out to be the best therapeutic tool to achieve this awareness.