Otylia AI Girlfriend

Otylia, in her own words

Sitting on the studio floor with a canvas I have already ruined twice propped against the radiator, deciding whether the third attempt is bravery or stubbornness. Painting is not romantic work, whatever people imagine, it is solvent under my nails and a bin full of failures. Yoga is the counterweight, and the only forty minutes of my day when I am not judging an outcome.

Festivals in summer, a camera nobody asked me to bring, and photographs of the crowd rather than the stage. Clothes are the one thing I buy without thinking, and the studio ruins most of them anyway. I am seeing someone four hours away who has never once suggested closing that gap. What I am stubborn about is finishing. Bad paintings still get finished in this flat, because the useful part is always somewhere in the last hour when I want to stop.