He was there when I boarded the train, but he didn’t see me until the crush pushed itself out onto the platform at Jay Street/Borough Hall. I sank into a seat just vacated, and when the doors closed, he looked across at me, a sketchpad on his lap, a pencil in his left hand, and a look on his face that I will charitably call “quizzical” when really I just want to say “quite possibly retarded, but in a nice educable way”. I decided he was OK, because I know lefties are the truly creative, artistic people, so I let him glance at me from time to time to take down all the information he needed from my face in order to complete as much of a sketch as was possible over the span of six subway stops.
“I’m getting off at West 4th,” I said to him as the F train approached Delancey Street, “so you may want to focus on my facial expression rather than spend so much time on my nose.”
He continued his work, and from time to time I would surprise him with whatever “props” I could find in my bag. I wished I hadn’t switched bags that morning, because the contents that morning weren’t as impressive as I usually carry, but I think the artist managed to capture me quite brilliantly anyway. When I stood up at the West 4th stop, he handed me the drawing without a word. Here it is:
I must say he captured my spirit brilliantly. And even more impressive was that he didn’t use his eraser once!
He forgot to sign his work, though, so if you can identify the artist, please tell him to contact me. I want to give him full credit … and tell him to meet me again sometime when I’ve got more in my bag for him to get down on paper. I suppose you could say I not only want to show him my props but give him some as well!