I just completed this piece, literally a few seconds ago, and as I looked at it, and as I painted it, I guess, I found myself really identifying with the woman in the painting. I called it "Waiting" because that's what she's doing, waiting; gazing out the window, waiting. Waiting for someone to tell her she's beautiful; waiting for someone to tell her she's smart; waiting for someone to tell her she's okay. She's imprisoned, in a sense, both figuratively and literally by her fears and self doubt, by those voices she's heard all her life, voices that became her own somehow that told her no. No one knows her pain. To the outside world, she has it all, she's beautiful, intelligent, talented; she just never seemed to be let in on that little secret.
I've been there many times in my life. I've been plagued with fears and doubts and waited silently for someone to come along and tell me all those wonderful things about me. But fear not, she will find that person, just like I did, and she's way closer than she even knows. And once she looks deep inside and finds her, she'll never let her go.