A few hears ago when I was working for a well known
London gallery, a colleague asked me if I knew of anyone that would be
interested in earning a bit of extra cash over the festive season doing
caricatures at a Christmas party in The City (London) for some big corporation.
The job was very well paid, involved a couple of hours of work drawing
caricatures of the company's employees - and more free food and drink than any
poor starving artist could wish for.
Well... what could I say but 'look no further - here's
your man!'
I got the job and being overly confident in the fact
that I'd always been pretty good at caricatures at school (they'd got me in and
out of trouble with both pupils and teachers alike on more than one occasion) I
did no more preparation than buying myself a new set of Tomboy brush pens and
turning up at the venue.
At first, everything seemed to be going well. I was
introduced to a hip-looking young man and woman who handed me my wages for the
night (good start). They both looked super stylish. She had a cool bob (similar
to Uma Thurman's in Pulp Fiction) and he was slightly camp and incredibly well
turned out. So when they asked to be the first couple to be drawn I had no
problems. I quickly rendered them in a minimal, sharp cartoon style that suited
their look and everyone was happy.
Then everything seemed to go down hill from that point
onwards. Unfortunately the next subject wasn't so aesthetically well rounded
and feeling that their true essence wouldn't be captured using the previous
style, I changed tack. Instead of creating a fun stylised cartoon version of my
new subject I honed in on, and exaggerated, my hapless victim worst features.
It wasn't an intentional act of malice. I had merely focused on the most
prominent features and run with them – not thinking how the eventual image may
turn out. Needless to say, it didn't turn out well – at least not for the
subject. They weren't too pleased. I'd even go as far as saying that they may
have been a little upset.
I quickly realised my mistake. I had failed to fix on one style, practice it beforehand and stick with it regardless.
I quickly realised my mistake. I had failed to fix on one style, practice it beforehand and stick with it regardless.
By this point I was starting to feel a bit
uncomfortable – which didn't help when it came to the next subject. Desperate
to salvage the situation I tried yet another style but the only problem with
this was that unless I stuck with my tried and tested methods there was the
chance that the drawing would pay little resemblance to the person in front of
me so I soon reverted back to knocking out grotesque renderings from the now
large line of people forming next to me.
It was a very strange experience. I seemed to be
upsetting an ever-growing number of people yet more of them were queuing up to
be humiliated. And the more I tried to alter my style of drawing the worse
these sketched monsters turned out (this may have been something to do with the
vast number of drinks people were plying me with – which I was eager to consume
in an attempt to dull the anxiety).
Not only was there a long queue of people waiting to
be sketched but a large group had formed of slightly drunk folks who were
obviously enjoying their fellow employees' visual assassinations (at this point
I honestly no longer felt in control of what my hands were producing) - so much
so that splinter groups were now breaking off from the main mob in search of
juicier victims. A couple of them dragged over a lady who must have been the
fattest person in the whole company. I think that the alarm in my eyes must
have mirrored that in hers. My mind was screaming 'please – not her!' but my
fingers showed no mercy. One poor chap, after I handed him my rendition of him,
simply looked at me with such devastation in his eyes and said 'I'm gonna go
home now and hang myself'. I truly believe he didn't really mean it and it was
just the drink talking but it obviously didn't ease my conscience.
After two of the longest hours of my life I apologised
to the long line of people still waiting to be drawn (I should really have
apologised to the ones I'd already sketched) and made my escape. I tell you –
once outside of that building, London's air had never before smelt so fresh and
the sense of relief never so palpable. I probably won't be doing that again -
probably!
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