Hello, Friends, did you have a wonderful weekend?
Thank you for a lot of feedback on the last post. I'll be true to myself and live Sadami.
Even though we have a lot of rain these days, you and I will go for sketching people on streets in the City at night today.
The night City has many faces. Homeless guys, rich&poor, young&old, buskers, illegal traders, police, drunkards, sex industry workers, happy&sad, overseas, artists, all kinds of people get together at the one place, the "City" and disclose their lives boldly. Night darkness curtains fiascoes off guilt. Alcohol helps people leave shyness, moral and social norms far behind. Freedom and chaos are praised.
In the chaos, sketching is much like finding gold from mud, scoop it up and scatter it on papers. Value study at night is very interesting. Unfortunately, paper did not get dry well in the rain. Expected washes never came up. In the pub. Just the royal wedding was on a TV. Securities and young people enjoyed my sketches. Technically, rough sketches, quick watercolor and pin-down inspirations are my tasks.
I saw an old lady busker. Quite rare to see a granma-like figure play a guitar. Not many people gave her money tonight. Her very sad face ached my heart badly. "Oh, you're so sensitive. But the truth is truth!" she said cheerfully. She'd rather enjoy the miserable situation than cursing at others. Great and I admired her attitude. That pensioner was planning to go home, UK and saving a little bit money from busking.
One, I assume, a homeless lady passionately looked at my sketching for nearly 20 minutes(=till the end) on an under ground way to Central Station. She talked to me in Non-English. I had no idea. She tried hard to tell in English my portrait captured a model's inner world and emotions(*the first uploaded busker's portrait). "Spirit! Model's spirit! My English is bad." Once, she loved drawing in her country. "Very poor. Very poor. My English is bad."(*sorry I did not get her story well.) She took the brush from me, "Pen. Horse. Animal. Rice paper. Expensive." (...I wish I could tell her mine is made of a "Squirrel" another animal!). She kept on talking and would not go away. Looked very poor with 2 worn out plastic bags stuffed with cheap daily needs -- a typical homeless appearance, even though she said, "after work." Nearly 12 o'clock?! You do not look like a Cinderella. A face and hands were very dirty, full of wrinkles with some cuts or cracks. Big patches were here, there on her jacket. Honest, I've never seen a middle aged lady wearing a patched and thin cloth in autumn Sydney. Even a homeless guy wears well and warm, because charity provides clothes. If a language difficulty hinders this lady from accessing help and art work, it's pity... She passionately talked on how marvelous materials and how wonderful Chinese painting was.
I picked up a Chinese brush from my bag and ... gave it to the lady. Of course, I'm not rich at all!!(*I bought it this year.) I might be too simple...
The lady looked to get a bit surprised, happily accepted it, walked away and disappeared in a crowd. Ah, if that lady could have been the sympathetic millionaire, that'll be wonderful! (*The Model Millionaire (Oscar Wilde) is my favorite short story. Big laugh and so subtle!! ) But a fantasy would not happen on me. I'm ready to die in poverty. My dear artist friend says, "You're not alone! We're in the same boat!!" Oh, what a great friendship! Hahaha!Now, let's go home. Home, sweet home. I'll take a train.
So many different people, some might be cunning. But I'd believe in people's good will. One homeless and beggar gentleman offered his jacket on steps for this poor artist. Many people actually respected the artist and never scorned me even in the chaos. Friends, that's my great and genuine honour. I'll keep up drawing and painting. I do not expect a commercial success(=galleries are not happy to display subjective portraits), but one day, I'd exhibit my daily sketches of people at somewhere to share joy with others.
Anyway, happy painting!