I’m a sketch artist.
I’ll sometimes sit in a room for hours on end doing quick turnouts of subjects who are lined up. I do this at conventions and church meetings, at schools and fairs and in people’s living rooms. I love to draw people. Takes about 90 seconds and in most cases, produces something people treasure.
But not always. You’d be surprised how often people would rather be anywhere on the planet than in front of me posing.
I can see it coming a mile away. The person reluctantly slides into the chair opposite me, looks in every direction except mine, and when I manage to get his/her attention, refuses to look me in the eye. Asked to look this way and smile, the party mumbles, “I don’t smile.” Or, “I don’t like my smile.”
A few times I have said with more than a little impatience, “Look, I could understand that if you were 13 years old. But you’re a grownup. Get over this. Everyone looks better with a smile, including me and definitely including you. Now, look me in the eye and show me a smile. You’ll like the picture a lot better.”
One day, when no one else was standing nearby to be drawn, I tried something with this depressingly shy young woman.