Third Photo Pain-Over: Havana and “Lola”
For my third photo paint-over experiment, I chose a holiday snap from my 2013 trip to Cuba. The photograph was taken in Havana and shows me standing beside “Lola,” one of the city’s many brightly coloured vintage cars. The scene could hardly be more Cuban — an old American car gleaming in the sun, colonial buildings in the background, and a street alive with movement and colour.
This time, however, it wasn’t just the car or the architecture that came with a story. The day the photo was taken included one of those travel moments that turns into an unforgettable memory — part funny, part awkward, and very, very human.
The Story Behind the Photo
Earlier that day, our tour group had stopped at a local market. It was busy and vibrant, stalls filled with handicrafts, jewellery, and textiles. An elderly woman running one of the stalls approached me with a smile and asked if I would like a couple of dreadlocks braided into the front of my hair.
“Why not?” I thought. It sounded like a fun little experiment — a way to take a piece of Cuba with me, even if just temporarily.
I sat down, expecting two or three small braids. But somewhere along the way, the lady clearly had a much bigger plan. She began working methodically, and it soon became clear she wasn’t going to stop at just a couple. With no mirror in front of me, I didn’t fully realise what was happening until it was far too late to protest.
By the time I understood, she had decided to braid my entire head into dreadlocks.
The problem wasn’t the hair itself — though I wasn’t entirely sure I could carry off the look — it was the time. What was meant to be a quick novelty took much, much longer. The tour bus was waiting, the schedule was ticking, and I was stuck in the chair while everyone else waited patiently.
I remember feeling increasingly embarrassed as the minutes turned into an hour. It was one of those moments when you desperately wish you knew more of the local language. If only I had done more Spanish classes, I might have been able to negotiate a polite stop. Instead, I sat there while the braids multiplied, trying to smile but knowing I was holding everyone up.
When I finally rejoined the group, my head fully transformed, I felt sheepish. It was probably the lowest point of the trip for me — not because of the hairstyle, but because I knew how important it was to keep to schedule on tours. And there I was, the one who had delayed everyone.
But that’s travel. Sometimes you plan, and sometimes the day has its own ideas.
The Painting Experiment
When I chose this photograph for my paint-over project, I wasn’t only revisiting the memory of “Lola” and the dreadlocks. I was also curious to experiment with new materials. For this piece, I combined pencils, gouache, and, for the first time, Faber Castell’s acrylic paint pens.
The pens took a bit of getting used to. At first you have to shake them vigorously to get the paint flowing, and the nibs feel different from brushes. But once the paint started coming through, I found them surprisingly fun. They offered a bold, graphic quality that contrasted nicely with the softer pencil marks and gouache washes.
On photo paper, the combination created an interesting layered effect. The glossy surface pushed me to think differently about how to build colour and texture. Instead of working with large, sweeping brushstrokes (as I often do on canvas), I had to slow down, adjust, and play with smaller areas of colour.
The result feels more like a travel diary entry than a polished artwork — bright, pop-like, a little messy, and full of energy. That felt right for Havana, a city that bursts with colour and contradiction.
Havana’s Backdrop
The backdrop of the photo — Havana’s colonial facades — added its own richness. Crumbling plaster, peeling paint, flashes of colour against faded walls. For me, Havana was a city where time seemed layered rather than linear. You could see echoes of past grandeur, revolutionary slogans, and everyday life all at once.
Painting over the photograph allowed me to highlight some of that atmosphere, not in detail but in mood. The hot pink of “Lola” became even more vibrant. My dress in the photo turned a saturated orange, echoing the warmth of the day. The whole scene took on a slightly surreal, almost pop-art quality.
It wasn’t about accuracy. It was about capturing the memory — the humour of the hair incident, the energy of the street, the way Havana felt alive in every corner.
🌱 Reflections
Looking back, I realised how this little experiment mirrored the day itself. Just as the market lady had taken control of my hairstyle, the art materials had a mind of their own. The pens flowed unpredictably, the surfaces resisted, the colours took on lives of their own.
At first it felt awkward, uncertain. But with a little persistence, the unpredictability became part of the joy. The finished piece is not perfect, but it is playful. It feels honest — like a moment captured with laughter and chaos.
That, I think, is part of what makes both travel and art so rewarding. They take us places we don’t expect. They push us out of our comfort zones. They hand us stories — sometimes embarrassing, sometimes funny, sometimes beautiful — that we couldn’t have written ourselves.
If the Palacio de Valle paint-over felt jewel-like and Hemingway’s home felt reflective, then “Lola” is a burst of colour, a wink, a reminder not to take things too seriously.
Closing Thought
Sometimes the best memories aren’t the ones we plan. They’re the ones that happen when a stranger decides to braid your entire head into dreadlocks, or when a painting pen decides to leak unexpectedly across the page. They’re the surprises that remind us to laugh, to let go, and to see the beauty in the unexpected.
That’s what this little experiment with “Lola” became for me: a memory re-imagined in colour, a story retold through paint, and a reminder that sometimes, art — like travel — is at its best when it doesn’t go according to plan.
