Latest Panhandler Paintings

I just came off 14 consecutive days at work without a break. Saturday I brought my paints in with me to work, then headed off afterwards to do another painting. When I stepped out of the office I saw Gary, the Desert Storm vet, whose wife Whitney is very ill with cancer. I’ve been trying to paint her for the past two years but something always comes up. I asked Gary if she was around and he asked to borrow my cell phone, called her and said I was looking to paint her. I bought some lunch and as I was sitting in the restaurant eating when Whitney called. She asked if I could paint her tomorrow (i.e., Sunday), which I was kind of reluctant to do because as I said, I had worked 14 days straight and was looking forward to doing absolutely nothing for a change. Anyway I told her I’d be in town around 1 and would call her. Then I went out to find a portrait subject.

Rosie and David were sitting on a blanket near the Coop. Their schtick was their three guinea pigs which got a lot of attention from passersby.

Note the one on David’s neck. I hadn’t budgeted for two models but Rosie was very grateful to get $15 from me. When I turned around I saw I was being watched by an older street person who had a sign: “Old Books / 19th Century Newspapers $5.” Naturally I went over to check out his wares. We had a little conversation about old coins and he forced a 1943 steel penny on me. Also had a chat with some guy from the local community TV station who asked if I wanted to do an interview. Recognition!

On Sunday I caught the 11:45 out of Mansfield and got to Harvard Square a little after 1. I called Whitney. She said “But that isn’t today.” I said “Oh yes it is.” She said she couldn’t do it because her apartment had been broken into and she was waiting to meet with the police. We agreed to touch base later. As a result I painted

Laurel.

Laurel was one of the saddest looking panhandlers I’ve seen. Her sign stated that she was the homeless mother of four and a victim of domestic violence. I gave her my little speech, which is designed to reassure my subject that I’m not planning anything creepy and establishes the financial basis for a transaction. In her case it went like this:

“Are you going to be here for a while?”

[wordless nod]

“Would you like to make ten dollars?”

[more vigorous but wordless nod]

“I am doing a series of portraits of panhandlers here in Harvard Square. I would like to set up my easel and paint you. It takes about two or three hours.”

Laurel become progressively more forthcoming as the painting session continued. She told me about her ex-husband, who beat her until she left. And her recent boyfriend whom she had known since childhood who suddenly became abusive after she moved in with him. At one point she mischievously flipped her sign around to show the message she displayed to guys who propositioned her:

“I am not a whore, asshole.”

At one point a passing woman said to her “If you’re homeless, why did you have four children?” then quickly scurried away. Laurel became, quite rightly, irate. Meanwhile more drama was going on across the street. A scruffy-looking white guy was screaming the N-word at a black guy at the bus stop. The black guy went after him and his wife/girlfriend grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back. Eventually the white guy took off.

I finished my painting of Laurel. She looked at it and said “Yep, that’s me.” I packed up my stuff and headed for Harvard Square T station. When I was going down the escalator I saw the scruffy-looking white guy sitting on the floor, hands cuffed behind his back, screaming obscenities at the three cops who were arresting him. There are a million stories in the naked city and this has been one of them.