Blisters and Lines

The forecast said intermittent showers every few hours, so I wore my bright orange rain boots to work (and then switched them out for the pointy-toe black stilettos in the gallery). But I forgot socks for the boots and therefore rubbed the beginning of a couple blisters into my heels as I walked the few blocks from the subway. Now, I know better than to cab it anywhere between 3-8pm, but the potential pain in my heels convinced me to go the safe route. So on my way back home, I decided "better a wound in my wallet than blisters that won't heal" and hailed a cab.

Though it's not a sketch, the
receipt and a primed metro-
card will hold Manny's spot.

As the traffic backed up towards the 59th Street bridge like a clogged drain, my driver and I chatted: traffic is crazy, living in the city, moving out of and back to the city, job prospects, education, and life experiences. We had such an enjoyable conversation. As the meter ticked upward and the lines of vehicles inched forward, we were trading stories.

My driver's name is Manny, and he's a New Yorker from birth. He moved out for a time, but the city called him home. I told him that we were moving out, and we compared opportunities, hopes and abridged histories. (Get it? We were on the 59th Street bridge - "abridged"? Chuckle, chuckle.) And while the tone of this post sounds all happy-sappy, everyone's hopes are tinged with fear and everyone's histories have a bit of intentional blurriness. So as I write this, I wonder how much to reveal of our conversation and how much to keep in my pen (or keyboard, as it were) knowing that when I return to this post, I'll remember what I held back.

But it's not so much how much I share with you, it's more how far our rare conversation traveled in those few miles. As the traffic thinned, the cab dropped me off at my house and I asked Manny if I could paint his portrait. He said he'd seriously consider it, and I anticipate that he may flag me down to be a part of this project. Until then, I hope that his travels bring him always safely home, too.

Craig

I didn't think I'd get a seat on the train coming home from work today. What's more, I knew it's going to be a heavy week ahead preparing for Art Naples with the gallery so I'd almost resigned myself to just chilling out on the train. But lo, there was an open spot on the bench and I squeezed myself in. Awkwardly fumbling for my sketchbook (and behold!), I wanted to catch the couple across from me. She had silky, relaxed roller-curls and he had a hairstyle I've only seen once before, on an NYAA student, Yi Cao (MFA 2011). I sat, staring for a bit; they were moving slowly, seemed like they were tired too. I wanted to sketch both of them, but I only had time to get his likeness before my stop. And then I almost, again, resigned myself to stopping there because I didn't have any cards left on me. But they stepped out at the same place I did and walked across the platform. Hurriedly scribbling "beforeItransfer.blogspot.com" on a page of my sketchbook and tearing it out, I crossed over to them and showed them the portrait. I told them that I wanted to draw both of them, but didn't make it in time before the train stopped. Inviting them to be a part of the beginning of my project, I gave him the note and he held out his hand. "Hello, my name is Craig," he said, "what's yours?"

Stunned by his ease and candor, I hope they will both take me up on the invitation to paint their portraits. Craig, it was nice to meet you!

Refining

Last Saturday, I went to a workshop at CUE Art Foundation. Hamish Smyth from the design firm, Pentagram, was speaking about cohesive design and branding. His work is so tasteful, direct and elegant. (Please check out his site.) As I was listening to Hamish's presentation, I noticed that he had a distinctly beautiful skull shape. With his black glasses perfectly proportioned and framing his temples, the ear-piece echoed the seam in his skull where the temporal plane meets the mastoid process. Much like his design work, the way he presented his appearance was refined and chic. Enrapt, I studied each plane, calculated the value shifts, noted the reflections. And while this drawing project actually starts in the subway, I still pulled out my sketchbook to capture his lovely skull.

Now, I think I might know what you're thinking: perhaps you're muttering something along the lines of  "Hmm, she seems a bit psycho"? Weelll, funny you mention that. During Hamish's presentation, he shared with us the "business card scene" from American Psycho. The increasing anticipation, the catch in breath, the shivers one gets from the perfect combination of line, texture and color... in the same way Hamish's passionate about design, I'm passionate about human anatomy.

After his talk, I thanked him and introduced him to this project, noting that no one to whom I have handed out cards has yet taken me up on my offer to paint their portrait.  Hopefully, when I come back for a critique next month with my new website mockup, he'll be a part of this project with an actual portrait... of his beautiful skull. 

Like An Artist

Two lovers on the bench, hands and fingers entwined. They exchanged soft words, some of which I overheard. (Saturday subways are nicer.) She said his fingers were "like an artist's." Having just completed a quick sketch of a lovely-locked lady, I wasn't sure if I should start in with my pen again, or just savor the imagery of the shiny twining of her curls. And while the image of the lovers' hands would been pleasurable to sketch, I knew I wasn't going to be able to lock into their particular finger forms while they were wrapped up in each other. Their feet however, were content to stay put right where they were. So, decided, I started to sketch the falling of their feet.


But with just a few pentimenti in place, they started to gather themselves for their stop. I quickly got their attention to give them a card, pointed to my barely-there drawing, "Almost," I said.

(And now that I'm writing about this, "Like an Artist, sketched for the very first time...Like an ah-har-har-tist, with your sketchbook, next to mine..." keeps singing in my head.)

Should've Been

It's been a long week, as usual, and I'm coming home from work on Friday night. I was thinking about my to-do list, how it keeps on growing and growing (good thing I've got a little pink octopus to cheer me on) and so I felt like I just wanted to have a quiet moment on the train to decompress. But the mood was perfect - people relaxing, space increasing, me sitting - WHY didn't I break out that sketchbook!?!

The couple across from me was having a discussion and I watched as their faces reacted to each other. I wondered how they were going to spend their Friday night: were they going somewhere? Were they coming home? They formed such a sympatico pair, and it would have been an optimal drawing - the train even seemed to move slower, urging me to take up my pen and put down my phone. I knew I'd be on the train tomorrow though, there would be another chance... but aw, what the heck, I'll ask them. As the train coasted to my stop, I approached ("Sorry to interrupt you, but etc.") gave them each a card and hopped out of the train. I told them "I should have been sketching [you], but it's Friday, and I'm tired."

I'd Like to Complete It

The bike was locked to the pole in the middle of the aisle. At first I thought of just doing a portrait of the bike (you know, because it wouldn't move on me). But then a tall, lanky guy slid into the seat behind the bike and sat very still, headphones in, energy/nutritional drink in hand, fingers tapping at his phone.

And there it was, the beginning of an interesting drawing. It started with his hairline, his ear, then the back of his skull. Curving around his brow, I met the seat. And the wheel and the breakline, and then the doors dinged and I had to get out. I scrambled to pull out a card, gestured at my drawing and said, "The portrait, I'd like to complete it." Startled, but he nodded, and then I was off the train.

Check...

I was writing a post about procrastination and excuses tonight on my way home from work (which now has been tabled to bring you this breaking story). The train was more full than usual at this time of night so I didn't get a place to sit, which means I didn't get a chance to sketch.

Looking around though, I saw a woman with a sherbet-colored, chevron-striped jacket and a butter yellow crocheted cap. She looked approachable, so I wanted to ask her if I could paint her portrait. She was leaning against the door, and I was standing on the other side of the pole. I would have had to scootch around the guy between us to get to her, so I planned out how I might just chill a while and catch her before she left the train. She was reading a book, so I just waited and returned to my post about procrastination.

The guy on my right and the guy on my left both had their smartphones out, passing the time, same as me. But the guy on my right was playing chess. (I'm a Mahjong girl, myself.) I watched his screen as the pawns came out, and then the knight crashed through the lines. Bishop, Rook, Queen; "Check..." blinked at the bottom of the screen. As I heard the announcement for my stop, I noticed that he put his phone away (he must be getting out here, too!). I pulled out a card, tapped him on the shoulder and said, "I like that you're playing chess, not Angry Birds." (Handing him my card, telling him about my project, and he said...) "Yeah, I'll check it out."

Checkmate!

Bolder

After my run in with "the probable mobster" I felt bolder today. I printed a batch of new cards and even determined to make an attempt on my morning commute. Folks don't like to be bothered on their way to work though, and the general pre-office grimace graced the face of many a fellow straphanger.

Looking for potential portraitees, I saw a dark woman with bright, piercing eyes, a chiseled nose and full lips strap-hanging just out of reach. (And once you find your spot - comfy or not - on an AM train, you stick with it, so I didn't make any moves.) I thought maybe I could edge nearer to her when we left the train, but she moved toward another door and I didn't see her again.

So on tonight's commute back home (8pm? Maybe the night crowd's a bit easier than 8am?) I thought now's my chance. I've got a pocketfull of cards and people to hand them to! I scanned the car, seeing if someone would catch my eye. I found more than a few, so I thought what if I just asked the whole car? I walked to the middle of the car, stood there, looked around and practiced these words in my head:

Hi folks, sorry to interrupt you and I know you don't want to be bothered (Errgh, everybody says that...) But I'm an artist and I'm working on a project to paint portraits on metrocards of people I meet on the subway. I'm just beginning, and this is my first time, ever, making a subway announcement. (A slight pause here?) I have cards in my hand with my website listed on them, and if you are interested in being a part of this project and having your portrait painted on a metrocard, I would be happy to give you one.

I stayed there, in the middle, hanging on to the pole, watching the clock... 8:08, 8:08! Thinking, This is good. Just practice this so that when you actually do say it, you can do so with confidence. Mind you, I have no problem with public speaking, well, except in subway cars.

When the train cruised through the station right before my stop, I began to quietly mouth my speech to check the timing. But when the doors opened and it was time for me to get out, I still had the cards in my hand. Maybe I'll be bolder, tomorrow.