Once I was drawing images of people in a bar. The table where I sat was big enough to seat 8 persons. Those who were sitting alone, got curious by my drawing activity. They joined me. Soon a middle aged couple also joined the table.
I closed my drawing book and started chatting. There was amusement, discussions and smiles but seemingly, the purpose why most of them had moved to this table was defeated. Eventually, one person boldly encouraged me to continue drawing. The others nodded. The couple too wished to observe. As soon as I opened my sketch book the lady suggested that I drew a portrait of her man. Everyone agreed and waited to see this happen.
I had an interesting activity that evening. Surrounded by strangers. Drawing. I was engaged. I wondered what the others had. Was it just entertainment for them? Such an entertainment must have felt better than sitting alone and chatting with their own minds.
I agreed to the lady’s request. She wanted to see her man’s image that she had in her mind, reflected on paper.
I guess we all create images. Our mind generates images of people we know, which is usually an image from the past. It seems, our perceptions are our images. Images about others are often based on past experiences recorded in our memory.
Image of a funny man
I had to know a bit more about the person I was drawing. “He is funny, likes to joke about everything, doesn’t take things too seriously”– she said. She also added that they were separated. They were together that evening for old time’s sake. The man nodded as he raised his beer glass. Everyone else on the table raised their glasses too.
I began to draw the portrait of her man sitting in front of me. My pencil scratched against paper. The lead marked the paper with thick and thin lines that moved in every possible direction. Initial shapes were outlines of his skull. The image so far was a fuzzy unclear representation. The anatomy of a human head is a creation of the nature. The proportions cannot be challenged. It wasn’t a cartoony sketch the lady was expecting.
As my mind creates images of others, I also create images of myself. That too is shaped by my memories and experiences. It’s also shaped by my own perception about myself, which is just an image of an image being re-constructed in a loop. Since childhood, I was brought up with an identity that eventually developed my self-image. Such images exist in our minds and might not be our true nature. As grownups we strive to portray that acquired self-image to stay relevant and acceptable in our society. That self-image becomes very valuable to us and we try to protect it by all means. It hurts a lot when that image is attacked. It becomes a part of our identity and we expect everyone to honour it. The absurdity of all this begins when people become violently possessive about their identities, so much so that they are even willing to kill, to protect their self-image and honour.
The portrait was ready. It had as much detail as possible with pencil on paper. The resemblance between the portrait and the subject was acknowledged and applauded by everyone around. I felt proud of myself. My image about myself as an expert draftsman was reinforced. In that moment I truly felt like an expert. I was the best on my table. No one could challenge my skills and if someone did, it definitely would hurt.
Image correction
“Could you adjust the tilt of the lips and close the mouth”– requested the lady. I reviewed the drawing carefully while listening to her. I compared the picture with the subject few times and hesitantly, with my rubber eraser I began to rethink the mouth. I could not challenge her perception. She definitely had spent more time with her man than me. She had seen him closely and most likely in every mood. She knew her man and had an image of him in her mind, which I must match.
I modified my image of him, while still preserving the alignment of his characteristic features. Now, in my opinion, the drawing was closer to her expectation. The resemblance between the portrait and the subject was once again acknowledged and applauded by everyone around. The man himself agreed to the similarities.
More image correction
“The mouth could be tilted a bit more. The eyes could also be a bit more joyful. It’s not him”– commented the lady. She wanted to get this drawing as a gift for her ex-man. Now, it was a challenge for me to match her expectations. I could not let anyone tarnish my image of myself. My ego kicked in. I was not going to lose my “Image”. I sensed a hint of anger too. I had been sketching for years and have a good hold on my lines. Who is she to challenge an expert like me?
I modified the image again with her suggestions. For my “expert” eyes, the drawing had already moved away from being a representative picture of a man sitting in front of me. I still tried to maintain as much visual similarity as possible. It was hard. Finally, there was a portrait. Ample resemblance between the portrait and the subject was once again acknowledged and applauded by everyone around. Beer glasses were raised. The ex-man bought me a beer. The sketchbook was passed around. There were smiles and nods of approval. I took a long sip from my beer glass and felt successful.
Even more image correction
The lady took a long look at the picture while sipping her lager. She smiled and continued – “There should be more grey hair. The ears are round. The nose and neck look…” She knew what she wanted to see. She wanted the details in the paper image to be corrected and matched with the details of the image in her mind.
I have always been hesitant to let others tamper with my work. My work. My image. But, maybe she is an artist or an expert illustrator herself and is being critical about details. I got curious about the possibility of her enhancing the drawing by correcting it herself, with her own vision. I too might learn a thing or two about portrait making. I was positively surprised and as a result I passed the pencil and eraser along with the sketchbook to her respectfully. I was relieved from pressures of performance. I had outsourced the responsibility of outcome. I humbly observed with considerable faith in her skills.
Final correction
She started by erasing some of the foundational lines of the composition. She rubbed more. She sketched and rubbed and sketched more. She rubbed again and sketched even more. This process repeated for a while. She continued drawing and redrawing until the image on the paper was completely transformed. It wasn’t my work anymore. There was silence on the table. Observers were wordless. The new image was no doubt a portrait but was an expressionistic smudge. It resembled someone but not anyone from our table.
I separated the sheet from my sketchbook and gave it to her. She got what she owned and the rest of us continued with our beer drinking and friendly chatting. I am thankful for the lesson I had learnt that day about images in our minds.
Note: If the lady or her ex-man are reading this, and if by chance you still have that portrait, I’d love to see it again.
