Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Our second day during the Sydney Writers' Festival
We planned on finding masses of fiction fans down at the wharves, but there was only one man slowly setting up a row of orange flags, his patient border collie tethered to his van. So we walked back to Circular Quay and spread out our banner on a bench. Further down the promenade, there was a bushie in clown pants singing 'The Ryebuck Shearer'.
Brendan
Brendan was a graphic design student and wanted to know what font my Remington Portable typed in.
Lauren Smith
Lauren, Bonny, Courtney and Nona were all schoolmates. It was nerve-wracking to paint their portraits because teenagers are so sensitive about their appearance, and also because they all were reading each other's portraits while I typed, so I couldn't get away with any generic niceties. Not that generic niceties are my forté.
Harish
Harish and Martin were office-mates on their lunch-break. Harish is the only client so far who has laid a complaint against his portrait: he said I had forgotten his eyes. I quoted what I had written about his eyes, "detailed and delicate". I only have five minutes! I have to scrimp somewhere.
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