Random Musing No. 1

The human eye has a range of 120°, mostly peripheral vision, compared to the camera’s typical 200° or more. That is why the figures sometimes seem distorted at the edges of a photograph. We make up for this seeming deficit by moving our focus (in movements called “saccades”) around a scene to build up a gestalt awareness of its appearance.

A painting, curated by human intelligence, is superior in every respect to a photograph, except for how long it takes to make it. If cameras took three hours to create the exact same image as they do now in a split second, there would be no question as to which medium people would choose when they needed an image recorded.

Carl; Erich

I brought my painting stuff to work and this time was able to get out early on Friday and do a painting. Carl was sitting next to a young woman with a “Homeless and Pregnant” sign. She was not interested in sitting for me. Carl, however, was very interested and, like Burton from last week, actively posed for me. He told me he had some acting experience and compared the experience of sitting for a painting to posing for his head shot. A likable young man.

I left my French easel at the office, took the painting and dirty paintbrushes home, then returned the next day with a new canvas. Once again I found very few potential models on a Saturday morning. I decided to head for a spot I’d picked out for a landscape, and ran into Erich where I’d come across Mike earlier this year: standing in traffic at the intersection of Garden Street and Mass Ave. Erich was carrying an extremely verbose sign that I did not get the opportunity to read. After I gave him my spiel he said yes but asked if we could go sit down somewhere and I said of course. Erich’s wife was sitting in the covered bus shelter and was working on her own sign. Erich told me they’d be back on Saturday and I could paint her then (unfortunately, weather and prior commitments kept me from going into town this weekend). The two of us headed into Cambridge Common Park.

Erich was wearing a Marine hat and a Marine tee shirt and told me about his time in the Marines. It sounded more like the Navy–he listed all the ports he’d been in, including all over the Mediterranean and, somehow, Bora Bora. A young man pulling a suitcase behind him joined us on our walk. “I was in the Marines too,” he said. “He was never in the Marines,” Erich whispered to me. “He forgot to take his meds.”

We were now joined by Erich’s son, another panhandler (but the only one out of Erich’s six kids), who talked about how good the pickings were at Alewife and that he was on his way there. He and the Marine with a suitcase left together. As soon as they were gone Erich complained about him borrowing money and never returning it. Now Gary and Whitney walked by (see my August 21, 2012 entry for Whitney–I painted Gary before I started this blog, so I will post his painting at the end of this entry) . Gary is also a Marine. He complained that someone had cheated or stolen $2,000 from them and apparently they have lost their housing again and are back on the streets, As he walked past me, Gary smiled and whispered, “Don’t believe him. Erich claims he’s a Marine but he isn’t.”

The subject of Erich’s sign was presumably the circumstances surrounding the absolutely hideous collection of scars that served him for a right leg. He had been hit by a car, and then, 14 months later, hit again. He was only wearing a sock on his right foot and later that week I saw him with a cane. Apparently some sort of living can be made from this wandering-through-stopped-cars-asking-for-spare-change gambit, but the occupational hazards are, well, hazardous. On the other hand, Erich was obviously using, as his description of various methadone options and side effects made apparent, and later by his nodding off as I was painting. He also told me about his father’s career as a small-time gangster and truck driver.

To a degree it’s hard not to be judgmental about the moral failings of others.I suspect Erich’s and his family’s woes are more the results of self-indulgence than of bad luck. I have an inking the same is true of Gary and Whitney. However, as I’ve said elsewhere, I am a terrible judge of character, so I will refrain from both approval and disapproval. Anyway, here’s Erich:

and here’s Gary:

Gary 2011