Sometimes, I draw people.
My son.
I love this way of looking at people, the way you need to look at a person in order to draw them. It is both objective and subjective. Objectively, you look for the obvious —where are their eyes, how large are their ears, do they have gaps in their teeth, are there any distinguishing marks —and then you try to get your drawing utensil of choice to do that. Subjectively, you find things you didn’t notice about the person before. Those peculiar features that can be discovered in the process of drawing, I find them beautiful. Beyond aesthetic sensibilities, the act of portraiture allows you to focus fully on another human being for a minute or two. How often do we do that these days? I don’t know, but I do notice the difference in my attention when, for example, I scroll through selfies online as compared to drawing a person. It is the act of Seeing with a capital S.
And speaking of selfies (with a lowercase s, mind), portraiture avoids judgment. I don’t judge people I draw. There is a tendency to judge that has accompanied people sharing photographs of themselves with others, particularly online. Do I look okay? This thought creeps in perniciously and persistently. The anxiety appears to be well-founded, unfortunately, as it is common practice for complete strangers rate the appearance of others. It has gotten to the point where people are expected to rate themselves —preemptively anticipating the judgment of others. It is also both objective and subjective, but in a cold and clinical way. It is dissection and shaming. Portraiture is about trying to see you for you, as you are, with all of your imperfections, combined into a perfect whole.
I think there is something to viewing yourself and others through the mindset of an artist. It is an attention that is not encouraged —it requires time and focus. As a consequence, it is disappearing. It can be developed, however, and there is value in attempting to develop this way of seeing people, even if you don’t “do art”. It is an act of discovery and appreciation. It can only be good.
Thank you, Dalia, for reminding me to think about this.