Nora and the chair

As many times as I’ve done drawings of this chair, well over thirty by now I’m sure, I never drew it while anyone was sitting in it. A few winters ago when I half filled a sketchbook with drawings of it done while I was working my way through various unruly moods, I began to think of the chair as a metaphoric representation of myself. I even considered doing a series of large pieces in soft pastel, and for months carried a picture around in my head of the empty chair with the featureless shadow of a man standing behind it, but decided that the idea was just too hokey, not to mention a sure way to set off a holocaust of unconstructive self criticism triggered by what would certainly have been disappointing results. But still, every time I look at it I think of it as having a personality that goes beyond its chair-ness. And I’m feeling compelled to draw it almost to obsession once again. I have not thought I’d draw it with people in it. Not, at least, until this evening.

Tonight after supper, I came upstairs to the studio to get a book to read, but my eyes fell on my closed black sketchbook sitting on the far end of the worktable. I picked it up along with a couple boxes of pencils, thinking that I’d settle down to a longer than usual drawing session down in the living room, keeping my daughter Nora company. When I got down there though, Nora had tucked herself comfortably into the lap of the chair, and without a tick of hesitation, I sat down on the sofa, pulled out a 9B graphite pencil, and told her to try to sit still for long enough to let me include her in the drawing. Of course, she moved constantly, both unconsciously (rubbing her nose, shifting her legs, shoulders, and head), and on purpose – making faces and laughing. If you haven’t ever done it, I can tell you that trying to capture a likeness freehand with pencil on paper of one of your children is intimidating, but I’ve learned over the past several months to block out the voices in my head predicting failure. Like horrid mermaids swimming through my brain, they paralyze me if I listen to their whispering for even an instant, so I have to stay ahead of them by drawing fast. And hell, for all her squirming around and "Can I move yet, Dad?", this actually kind of looks like Nora in that chair. Maybe I should just not spoil it for myself by showing it to her.

Comments

[toby]

This is nice.