When I’m sneakily drawing total strangers who unwittingly fall asleep directly in front of me, do I feel a slight frisson of guilt?
Yes. Absolutely. It is intrusive behaviour, and goodness knows how I’d feel if someone captured me with my head back, mouth open and an unflattering glazed inanimate expression. In the old days pre-internet, pre-drawing apps and pre-rapid uploads, it didn’t matter. What went in the sketchbook stayed in the sketchbook. Now there’s always the possibility of global transmission, and in pursuit of this blog’s aim to open up the private part of the artistic process, I’m quick to post as and when I remember.
To assuage my conscience, I assure myself that there is sufficient ambiguity and free expression here for the subject to be unrecognisable by anyone not looking to see her in it. And I’ll keep the train journey confidential for good measure.
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