I received an e-mail response from my dad telling me how we went to Paris when I was 3 years old and got my portrait drawn by a street artist in Montmartre. After that, I knew I would get my portrait done again. I had a chance to go to Montmartre and after carefully trying to find the “best” artist to get my portrait from, the old guy in the beret was the winner. It cost 30 Euros and he spoke fluent English. He told me that if I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have to buy it. How could I say no to that?
“The first five minutes are the most important, so try to stay really still.” He instructed.
“Ok.” I responded. This shouldn’t too difficult I thought.
I thought I could sit comfortably, but I was wrong. I wasn’t able to lean against my chair as I sat up and had to turn my head towards the artist. I had to keep smiling and stare at him. He kept telling me I was doing a good job posing, keep smiling and look at him. His frequent reassurances were helpful and kept me still.
As people would come and stop to look at the drawing, some even took photos. How funny to think that my drawing is saved on small memory cards belonging to random tourists. I kept smiling and tried to stay still, hoping for the best. He continued to switch pencils, drawing and shading. His eyes would scan my face as he tried to make it as accurate as possible.
“You can move now,” he told me.
It was finally over. Little did I realize how hard it would be to sit still for a good 20 minutes. I was pleased at the end, but wondering, is that what I really look like?