The last workshop was attended by Teresa – co-founder of local project Fruktsam – and Daniel. Both were really enthusiastic with the blind sketching exercises and in about one hour and four drawings later, their concentration was paying off. Results were showing and they were realizing that drawing has a lot to do with careful observing and that it is within reach. Thus was the mythical wall of talent cracked.
This was my blind portrait of them, while they concentrated on each other.
The time spent at the workshops at Marta’s were peppered with visits from friends and family. Amelie and Heidi gladly took pens and pencils and started producing art – no directions required!
Later, Patrick, Melissa and Liam popped up for fika. Melissa gave it a shot at some blind drawing exercises and was cursing me soon enough. It’s a tough one for starters! That reminds me: I should revise my drawing teaching program one of these days.
I had a blind drawing go at her also.
During the exhibition, Holger and I were at Marta’s leading informal workshops about our own particular way of sketching. This gave us a chance to get to know how people relate to sketching, how do they feel about it, and if they would consider starting to sketch themselves.
During some of those gatherings, I got the chance to make some portraits. Here’s a chubby version of Patrícia.
Alex is a 10 year old boy that likes to draw sharks! Pity I didn’t get to keep one of his drawings.
The easter holidays gave us a few days off to visit old friends and family in Lisboa. Dinner parties become so much cheaper in the local joints, and you can wash the food down with abundant wine without the need for declaring bankruptcy. Of course then you have to dissolve the thin film of oil that coats your oesophagus with aguardente, but by then, your senses have been numbed enough that you tolerate it quite well.
Lisboa has a knack of surprising us with semi-secret places such as Park, a lounge bar sitting on the terrace atop a multi-story parking lot, right in the middle of the night action. The elevator was broken, so a 5-story climb up the emergency stairs was just the thing we needed to digest all the greasiness from the dinner.
The price of the booze was above average, still, it was a privileged view over Lisboa by night coupled with some fine music. I was beat after 15 minutes, but the girls they just kept going for what seemed to be hours.
Taxi rides home in Lisboa are a lottery. You get all sorts of taxi drivers: grumpy, happy, drowsy, political, racist, eloquent, nonsensical, you name it. Very few are women, and this was one of them. She regaled us with stories and anecdotes of her years as a taxi driver and as a Lisboeta. The most impressive memory was of the fire in Chiado in the 80s, where she was working back then. Something I was not around to witness, but was indeed one of those dramatic events that determine a turning point in a place.