more ink washes
The woman unwrapping layers of herself and becoming more vulnerable.
Although what I thought of, when I did this, was the time in college when a classmate photographed me wearing a bikini as I wrapped myself in Christmas lights. My lifelong fascination with the twinkly-bright bulbs of color translated into slide photography (in elapsed motion, so the lights blurred in long, swerving streams behind me) of my interpretive dance across an otherwise empty studio.
She knew how much I loved the lights; it was her idea, that project. For a few hours, I got to be the lights. It was great (but a little warm, I must admit).
Then I wanted to do just a simple brown-and-white figure study. A woman, brushing her hair. Which I think always looks graceful and mysterious, unless I'm the one doing it (I brush my hair too fast and too hard, and pull great strands of it out in my merciless vigor).
Brown and white has a nice appeal all its own. I forgot how much I enjoy the brushwork of ink on paper.