She was a little girl of 12. But when you look at her you wouldn't give her more than 7-8 years old. She was slim (not to say skinny). She had big, blue eyes (beautiful eyes!)and 2 big, too big, front teeth. In fact, she looked just like a skinny, very hungry, nervous she-rabbit. Put some big, grossly rim glasses on her nose and you have almost her portrait true to life... Final touches: a runny nose, a stressed, anguished mother-hen look (she had at least two visible smaller brothers, all ultra-extra agitated and hyper active, all with runny noses and beautiful blue ayes...) And, cherry on the cake, somebody inspired gave her the bad-fated name of Casandra... Finally, she spoke the parisian outskirts dialect - because she, and her brother and her father and mother (those last ones weren't visible for the moment; probably buying - and drinking - beer, somewhere in the Jacques Cartier parc in Sherbrooke, Québec) were Francais de France. She was the in-charge-"mother" and when me and my friend Clement propose her to make her portrait she wasn't sure, at the beginning. She looked for her little brothers and only when we proposed to do their portraits too (which made them less agitated, having on them a ritalin-like effect...) she accepted. To tell you I felt a warm compassion for her would be an understatment... Drawing her portrait - twice, in order to conserve one portrait: the one you are looking at...) we knew a bit more about her life... At twelve, she was remplacing the mother - I'm afraid in more ways than one! - of a large family of poor Frnçais de France immigrated to Québec. I don't think she had a lot of gifts - personal gifts - coming her way, lately (or ever) so she was very glad when she had the watercolor and the pastel portraits we did of her. Especially that I did my best (for once!) to embelish her a bit. Let aside the runny nose, ameliorate a bit her big front teeth and gave all the color to her truly beautiful eyes. That day I was pretty satisfyied with myself. A good deed is a good deed. At the Last Judgement, I hope, the Lord will take it into consideration to balance my numerous sins...
Monday, November 5, 2007
Casandra's story
She was a little girl of 12. But when you look at her you wouldn't give her more than 7-8 years old. She was slim (not to say skinny). She had big, blue eyes (beautiful eyes!)and 2 big, too big, front teeth. In fact, she looked just like a skinny, very hungry, nervous she-rabbit. Put some big, grossly rim glasses on her nose and you have almost her portrait true to life... Final touches: a runny nose, a stressed, anguished mother-hen look (she had at least two visible smaller brothers, all ultra-extra agitated and hyper active, all with runny noses and beautiful blue ayes...) And, cherry on the cake, somebody inspired gave her the bad-fated name of Casandra... Finally, she spoke the parisian outskirts dialect - because she, and her brother and her father and mother (those last ones weren't visible for the moment; probably buying - and drinking - beer, somewhere in the Jacques Cartier parc in Sherbrooke, Québec) were Francais de France. She was the in-charge-"mother" and when me and my friend Clement propose her to make her portrait she wasn't sure, at the beginning. She looked for her little brothers and only when we proposed to do their portraits too (which made them less agitated, having on them a ritalin-like effect...) she accepted. To tell you I felt a warm compassion for her would be an understatment... Drawing her portrait - twice, in order to conserve one portrait: the one you are looking at...) we knew a bit more about her life... At twelve, she was remplacing the mother - I'm afraid in more ways than one! - of a large family of poor Frnçais de France immigrated to Québec. I don't think she had a lot of gifts - personal gifts - coming her way, lately (or ever) so she was very glad when she had the watercolor and the pastel portraits we did of her. Especially that I did my best (for once!) to embelish her a bit. Let aside the runny nose, ameliorate a bit her big front teeth and gave all the color to her truly beautiful eyes. That day I was pretty satisfyied with myself. A good deed is a good deed. At the Last Judgement, I hope, the Lord will take it into consideration to balance my numerous sins...
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4 comments:
What a gorgeous, sad story, and what a good deed you did, giving her a small break from her sad life, and a flattering portrayal.
G:You have found a good way of making a picture that is both a painting and drawing. I still think of Dürer.
Dürer, wow! I wish... Just yesterday I saw a nice album of Dürer I promise myself to buy at the next pay...I must discover the secret of his extraordinary degree of "finishing" (I don,t have a better word... The way he succeeds in his realistical portraits... the precision of his drawing...) But maybe, I don't have his patience, his German minutia...
thanks, moonbeam! I start to look too good to myself! this and another one or two is the maximum good deeds I did this year... True, I didn't do too many bad things either (except a few weirdy drawings...)
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