Triptych
Twenty-eight
THURSDAY AT A FEW MINUTES BEFORE NOON, I walked into Carmine’s for my weekly meeting with Clarice and Wendy stopped me just inside the door. We were going to have to change our meeting time once classes at SCU started.
“Special instructions today,” Wendy said. I glanced over at the usual booth. Clarice sat on one side and a couple sat opposite her. “Clarice wants you to just sit next to her, pull out your pad and start sketching them. No greeting and no talking. I’ll bring you lunch when you’re done.”
“Could I take a Coke with me?” I asked. She poured a glass and handed it to me.
I turned my music player on so I wouldn’t be distracted by whatever they were talking about and did as instructed. These weren’t my typical kind of models, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought they were typical people. He was pretty big. Even sitting down, I’d have to estimate he was well over six feet tall and carried about forty extra pounds. You could see it in his face, but he carried the weight pretty well-distributed. His complexion was dark and I’d have guessed that he was Indian, but that was based more on his wife than on him.
She was definitely Indian and also carried a few extra pounds—and a baby. She calmly sat opposite Clarice with a portion of her sari pulled up to expose an ample breast with the child happily having lunch. The only move that they made from where they were when I sat down was that he put his arm protectively across her shoulders—perhaps a warning to me that this was his territory.
It was beautiful.
I drew. In fact, I loved what I was seeing. These were real people. I didn’t know if they were potential clients or if Clarice had lined them up as models. She wanted me to paint people other than Melody, Lissa, and Kate. I got lost in the drawing. A family. I couldn’t wait to transfer what I was drawing to a canvas. Cultures and races were lost in the simple and universal picture of a family. As I sketched, I memorized. The softened line of his jaw beneath a little extra weight and slightly puffy eyes that nonetheless looked with love on his wife and child. Her exposed breast and the baby’s sucking cheeks. The pattern of her sari. The dot in the middle of her forehead and her dark, sparkling eyes.
I wasn’t really finished with the drawing, but Clarice tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention. I pulled the headset away from my ears as the mother casually pulled the baby off her tit and uncovered the other one to shift the baby over.
“Tony, this is Mr. and Mrs. Singh. Brijesh, Indira, this is Tony.”
I reached for Brijesh’s offered hand and nodded politely to Indira.
“Pleased to meet you,” I offered.
“And this is Mirium,” Indira said, stroking the baby’s head held against her breast. “She’s three months old.”
“She’s very sweet,” I offered.
“Tony, we’ve been discussing a family portrait. I explained that you had done several compositions with multiple people, but the Singhs want to see how you would approach their family. Would you like to show them?” Clarice asked.
“I loved doing this and could paint you from what I’m drawing right here,” I said. “The drawing is not complete, but a couple more sessions and I could do a family portrait.” I showed them the sketch.
They looked at the sketch and studied it. Both were smiling, but somehow reserved.
“Would you excuse us for a moment?” Brijesh asked. We nodded and the three left the table, headed for the door.
“Did I offend them?” I asked Clarice.
“I don’t think so. We’ve gone over the terms and what they want. They’ve seen your work and have a very specific scene they’d like painted. Relax and let’s see where it takes us.” They returned to the table.
“We like the sketching very much,” Brijesh said. “It is not what we want, though.”
Indira was digging in the baby bag next to her and pulled out a piece of paper.
“Can you paint this?” she asked, pushing the paper toward me.
It was a photograph, printed on a low quality inkjet. If it had been on photo paper instead of copier paper, it might have been a good photo. It showed the three of them, naked on a bed draped in gaily colored fabric. The baby was cradled against Indira’s left breast, but her right breast was fully exposed as was a fair portion of her dark bush. Her husband was curled up next to her and his equipment was barely concealed behind her right hip. There were a fair number of flesh-folds as their skin bunched up around the body-fat, but it came off looking lush rather than disgusting. It was a nice pose, but if they thought I could work from this…
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t paint from photographs. I like the pose and the drapery as well, but I would need to actually sketch you in that pose rather than copy the photo. I often see things that need to be accented or detailed that I simply can’t get from the photograph. If you really wanted the photo, you could have it discreetly enlarged and printed on art canvas.”
“You mean, you would have to see us? Like this?” Brijesh asked. Somehow I had the feeling he was more concerned about his body’s exposure than about his wife’s.
“That would be the only way I could do the painting,” I said.
“Tony sketches the scene first,” Clarice explained. “It takes anywhere from two to four hours, depending on how complex it is. He takes three to six reference photographs for color and tone reminders and then works on the canvas in his studio. If you do not wish to have him in your home, we can set up the scene in his studio. In either instance, Tony is always accompanied by one or two female assistants. They do not need to see you if modesty is an issue, but they must always be able to see Tony. This is a requirement.”
“But it took only five minutes to set up and take this photograph,” Brijesh protested. “You would need us to lie there naked before you for hours?”
“Essentially, yes,” I explained, “but there are some things we can do to make things more comfortable for you. For example, we take a break every twenty to thirty minutes so you can move and relax your muscles. We know it is hard to maintain a pose for a long time. After the first one or two sessions, we can work partly covered as I fill in various details, uncovering only the parts I am working on during the session that I need them. You will stay warmer that way, too,” I chuckled.
“Brijesh, please?” Indira said. “Look at how he draws.”
Brijesh looked again at the sketch and sighed.
“My wife’s family has a similar portrait of her parents with her in their arms. It hangs in a prominent place in their home and Indira has always imagined that she would have her own portrait one day. My family is a little more modest, but for my sanam I will hide my embarrassment. Can we do this soon before I lose my courage and our baby grows up?” Brijesh asked.
“I’d like to do it before the 20th, as well,” I said. “School starts then and I will have a tighter schedule. I’ll still be able to paint, but making appointments for sittings might be more difficult.”
“We have plans this weekend, but how about the Saturday the 18th?” Brijesh asked. “I can’t really take that much time off work during the week right now. We’re about to ship and I really shouldn’t have taken so much time even today.”
“I think I can arrange the 18th,” I said. “I’ll have to make sure I have a chaperone.” Can we start around noon? I have an early Saturday commitment.”
“Noon would be good,” Indira said.
“I’ll leave you to make the arrangements with Clarice, then,” I said.
I went to the bar and Wendy set my salad and soup down in front of me with a fresh Coke.
“Aren’t they cute?” she asked. “What an adorable baby.”
“Yes, that was certainly the strangest meeting I’ve ever had.” I started eating, but something was bugging me. “I didn’t really have much chance to catch up with you Monday with everybody there,” I said. “How are things going for you, Wendy? You still look awfully tired. You’re not ill, are you?”
“Oh, no. This has just been a particularly rough week. Things will improve once school starts, though. I’ve got new living arrangements starting in October, too. That will help matters.”
“Hey, if you need a place to crash and get some uninterrupted sleep, feel free to stop by. Not every gathering at our house is a naked party,” I laughed.
“Too bad,” she smiled. “I like getting naked with you guys. But… really? Would you mind if I just came over for a nap? It’s really uncomfortable where I am now.”
“Why don’t you come spend the night tonight when you get off?” I asked. “If your roommates are that obnoxious, a good night’s sleep is the least we can offer. No one has the guest room booked tonight.”
Wendy looked aside for a minute and I thought maybe she was upset about something, but I saw the Singhs approaching. We shook hands and they left the restaurant. I turned back to pick up my plate and join Clarice, but Wendy was right beside me. She wrapped me in a hug that nearly crushed my ribs, her face lying flat against my chest.
“Thank you, Tony. You’re the best.”
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