Just got off the subway after trying to hand out to invitations to paint portraits. I usually spend the trip in the tunnels imagining scenarios where I hand out the cards and every possible outcome - except for "no."
One older woman had long brown hair parted in the middle, black liner on her eyelids, soft features and a brown scarf around her neck. When I handed her the card she didn't even look at it before she shook-her-head-no-thank-you and looked away.
Another woman with oval glasses, chocolate-colored puffy jacket with red trim, layered hair, chiseled nose and Mediterranean complexion was near me. I gently tapped her on the shoulder and she did the same thing - didn't even look - so I appealed, "But wait, I'm an artist and I'd like to paint your portrait." With out pausing, she inaudibly asserted, no thank you.
It's not like I've never been rejected before, I have. And I know that my world isn't going to crumble if someone says no, because they will. But what really struck me isn't that I seemed like one of the millions of folks trying to hand you something in the subway, but that they didn't even want the card to cross hands. They'll never see this post, they'll never read this blog, and they'll never be a part of this project.
One older woman had long brown hair parted in the middle, black liner on her eyelids, soft features and a brown scarf around her neck. When I handed her the card she didn't even look at it before she shook-her-head-no-thank-you and looked away.
Another woman with oval glasses, chocolate-colored puffy jacket with red trim, layered hair, chiseled nose and Mediterranean complexion was near me. I gently tapped her on the shoulder and she did the same thing - didn't even look - so I appealed, "But wait, I'm an artist and I'd like to paint your portrait." With out pausing, she inaudibly asserted, no thank you.
It's not like I've never been rejected before, I have. And I know that my world isn't going to crumble if someone says no, because they will. But what really struck me isn't that I seemed like one of the millions of folks trying to hand you something in the subway, but that they didn't even want the card to cross hands. They'll never see this post, they'll never read this blog, and they'll never be a part of this project.
Maybe because I thought that love would be "in the air" this Valentine's Day, maybe because I choose the folks I want to paint, and maybe I thought that I'd be handing them a gift...maybe that's why I took it so hard. Tears started to well up as I got off the train and walked home.
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