👋 Hello and welcome to the SneakyArt Insider
Today I am sharing a passage from my book-in-progress - SneakyArt of Vancouver.
My first book - SneakyArt of Eau Claire - was all about the drawings. In the new one I want to include more writing to go with the art.
📖 SneakyArt of Eau Claire
To learn more about my first book of SneakyArt, tap the button below.
☕ The Old Man & the Screen
It was a hot day of summer, but the breeze was cool. Conditions were perfect for my line of work. So I went to a cafe, ordered their coldest coffee, and sat on their best patio seat. I did not know what I would find, but as a Sneaky Artist you don't always know such things beforehand. The first part of the job is always the same - you have to show up.
After a few minutes an older gentleman strolled in, coffee in one hand, a book in another. He sat in front of me, crossed his legs, and looked around. In front of him a traffic light, and under it people waiting to cross. Further on, the street narrowed and curved and disappeared over the horizon, hidden behind the trees.
There was a soft ping in the air, and a light flashed on his phone. He took it out, settled back in his chair, and began to scroll. I knew my scene was set.
I took out my sketchbook and got to work. You can't afford to waste time on hesitations when the opportunity presents itself. I did not know when he might leave, so I began with drawing him. Lucky for me, in all the time that I looked at him, he hardly moved. He swung his leg gently to music that was playing in his ears. His foot tapped in the air, squiggling inside his open-toed sandals. His eyes were full of the tiny screen in front of him. He was in front of me but really he was not. He was in a bubble of his own creation, attended by sights and sounds that he had orchestrated carefully to manage his world.
I forgot all about my coffee, and it went cold. Observing him, I realized his coffee must have gone cold too. You see, he was undergoing something that a lot of us do now, a common malaise that has gripped all of humanity. His world had shrunk. His senses had been dulled. His mind had been hypnotized. In all that time I looked at him, the only thing he looked at was his phone.
Once I had drawn him, I looked around at the rest of our shared environment - the lines of the patio railing going up, down and around his frame, the patio steps, the wood finish of the platform, the lamp-post, the trees, and the mail-boxes.
