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Many years ago, I was forced by multiple sclerosis into medical retirement from a career with the Canadian civil service, at the age of thirty-seven . It was a horrible shock to be put out to pasture at such a young age.
With an abundance of time on my hands, I returned to an old hobby: portrait drawing. I threw myself wholeheartedly into studies of the human face. Human faces always intrigued me.
With an abundance of time on my hands, I returned to an old hobby: portrait drawing. I threw myself wholeheartedly into studies of the human face. Human faces always intrigued me.
Studies of the human face
I have always marveled that no two faces on the planet are the same (except, of course, identical twins). In my whole life experience, I’ve never met two people with the same face; each is as unique as the person standing behind the face!
Farmer’s markets, summer festivals, beaches and parks were all places I went to watch people going about their lives. It is in the routines of daily life that humanity is revealed best. I watched their faces react to a multitude of events and circumstances: work and play, in happiness and sadness, at their best and at their worst, in the process of living and in the process of dying. Each face revealed something about the human condition. I began to draw.
The simple, lowly pencil was my medium of choice to capture images of faces expressing the emotions of life. It was my goal to make each face I drew no particular face yet every face. I wanted viewers who looked at my sketches and smile with recollections of ‘Jim’ or ‘Billy’ or ‘great aunt Sally’ or the little boy down the street back home. My gauge for success was to know the drawings evoked memories of people.
Farmer’s markets, summer festivals, beaches and parks were all places I went to watch people going about their lives. It is in the routines of daily life that humanity is revealed best. I watched their faces react to a multitude of events and circumstances: work and play, in happiness and sadness, at their best and at their worst, in the process of living and in the process of dying. Each face revealed something about the human condition. I began to draw.
The simple, lowly pencil was my medium of choice to capture images of faces expressing the emotions of life. It was my goal to make each face I drew no particular face yet every face. I wanted viewers who looked at my sketches and smile with recollections of ‘Jim’ or ‘Billy’ or ‘great aunt Sally’ or the little boy down the street back home. My gauge for success was to know the drawings evoked memories of people.
Limited edition prints
My wife decided to select five images and produced limited edition prints of my sketches, under the general series title Made in the Image.[1] The series had two hundred and fifty prints of each image. The sketches had various subjects, including:
· Kool-Aid Kid – depicted a shirtless little boy of about four or five on a sweltering, muggy summer day. There was not even a hint of a breeze. A baseball cap kept the mid-day sun off the little boy’s head but he was still hot and flushed. He needed a drink of Kool-Aid with ice-cubes and some cold watermelon. He wanted his mom to put on the sprinkler so he could run through it and cool down. He would not come in out of the sun until nap time. All his mom could do was slather another coat of sun-screen on her Kool-Aid kid and fret about sunstroke.
· Kool-Aid Kid – depicted a shirtless little boy of about four or five on a sweltering, muggy summer day. There was not even a hint of a breeze. A baseball cap kept the mid-day sun off the little boy’s head but he was still hot and flushed. He needed a drink of Kool-Aid with ice-cubes and some cold watermelon. He wanted his mom to put on the sprinkler so he could run through it and cool down. He would not come in out of the sun until nap time. All his mom could do was slather another coat of sun-screen on her Kool-Aid kid and fret about sunstroke.
Having Fun – was a head and shoulders sketch of a little girl of about nine or ten engaged in the important business of childhood play. I tried to show the joie de vivre of childhood in her face. Perhaps the little girl I drew was singing a skipping song, or playing hopscotch. Perhaps she was playing Red Rover or hide-and-seek and calling out, “Here I come, ready or not!” The sketch did not identify her game, only that her face showed she was Having Fun.
· Dance of a China Doll – depicted a small child of a peasant family somewhere on mainland China. She was performing a traditional dance. She was in the final pose of her performance; the sound of music was dying away and her family proudly applauded the dance of their little China doll. The pride in her face told us the dance was success.
Laughter is Universal – illustrated the face of an old Chinese man laughing about something. Perhaps he was in the market place visiting with other old men. Quite possibly he was the grandfather standing on the sidelines with the crowd watching the Dance of a China Doll.
· We lost, … but they cheated was an illustration of a softball player on the losing side of a game. Ball diamonds are dotted everywhere where softball is played from May to September; its players take it seriously but every game has a winner and loser. The young athlete in this sketch returned home dejected with a feeble excuse, “We lost, … but they cheated.” Perhaps next game would be her victory.
Success!
To our surprise and delight the limited edition sketch series was immensely successful, with sales coming from across Canada and as far away as America, England, Sweden, Australia and Hong Kong! They showed up on the walls of corporate boardrooms and Canada’s Parliamentary offices.
The art series was featured on a national Canadian Christian TV talk-show, as well as the subject of a national television documentary that aired across Canada.
The art series was featured on a national Canadian Christian TV talk-show, as well as the subject of a national television documentary that aired across Canada.
Disease stripped ability
Multiple sclerosis finally and permanently stripped the remaining fine motor skills in my right arm (I was right-handed). It was one of many sorrows over physical losses. I closed that chapter of my life, packed up my art equipment and gave it all to my son, Dean. His artistic talents dwarf anything I ever achieved.
Although I am not longer an artist, my love of art remains, whether it be through paint or pencil, poetry or prose, music or meditation on the psalms and holy Scripture, artistic beauty is a refuge from this horrible disease.
John Keats said,
“The excellency of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeables evaporate, from their being in close relationship with beauty and truth.”
“The excellency of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeables evaporate, from their being in close relationship with beauty and truth.”
Upon this point I must concur.
Mark Pickup
(Some limited edition sketches are still available for purchase. To order, contact my wife, LaRee at LaRee@shaw.ca for prices and availability framed and unframed.)
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