During the long flight from London to Cleveland yesterday, I drew a pencil portrait of a gentleman across the aisle.
He wasn’t aware I was sketching him. I observed him with occasional and sidelong glances. I didn’t want him to be self-conscious because his face would change. When I was finished, I showed it to him and he signed it. I did most of the sketch in HB and 4B graphite pencils, with the aid of a stomp and a kneaded eraser. (Click on the image below for a big enlargement)
My drawing shows him tapping the video screen to select a movie. He watched a film about young love. As I was drawing, I was thinking about identity and aging.
In the foundation of our hearts, none of us sees ourselves as old. Mentally we are all teenagers—teenagers who happen to be trapped in increasingly unreliable bodies.
This picture appears in my book: Color and Light: A Guide for the Realist Painter