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| ANOTHER HAPPY CUSTOMER |
#mypencilneverlies is my newest hashtag for my new Instagram
account. #mypencilneverlies joins my
other two hashtags, #onthespotportraits and #10minutepencilportraits. Of the three, I’m thinking #mypencilneverlies
is my most creative and wittiest. But what
do I know; do tell … only my followers will tell. Actually, my followers provide mostly a
quantitative, rather than qualitative measure.
But we will see; you see … only my followers will see.
And they will see:
#mypencilneverlies.
My delusional self insists that my pencil never lies. I do portraiture, not caricature. I draw exactly what I see; I never magnify. I never swell their schnozzles; I never amp
their hearing organs.
#mypencilneverlies, but I do.
Factoid:
I am an accursed liar. I sometimes
minify. Most times if I judge my clients
to be too fat, I skinny them up a bit. As
arrogant and all-knowing- what-is-best-for-my-client this may seem, my
truthful-telling graphite pencil always follows my mindful lead (as in long e …
leed, not short e … led, and certainly no pun intended). Under the study of “lies,” this would be
labelled a “white lie.” (A white lie is
told to be tactful or polite. I want my
consumers to like what they see, and when they see a leaner brand/form of
themselves, I’m thinking they, too, will be delusional like me, and like what
they see.)
I always start my portraits with the client’s right
eye. And I always mention to my clients
that such a posing experience can certainly be disconcerting. Nothing like staring into strangers' eyes to
put them ill at ease. Because this is
the case, my clients sometimes manifest this nervosity with their blushes and
never-ending giggles. And I always
finish my portraits by scribbling a reasonable likeness of whatever
top my client is wearing; a hoodie or fleece, a t-shirt or collared shirt, a
parka or jacket. But really, who cares
about my telling how I draw, especially with every blog post I actually show
you the portraits I have drawn.
I lie, too, sometimes in my blog posts. My blog posts, purportedly are fact,
unreported are fiction. I mean, really,
to make certain points I have to sometimes embellish the settings or add colour
to the characters. These, under the study of “lies,” would be considered “lies
of commission.” A lie of commission
happens when the truth is twisted or distorted to create a more favourable
version of a person or a place or a happening.
And the last type of lie that I am self-describing and famous
for would be the “lie of omission.” Surely
all of my regular readers know that I am so
proficient in so many things. I am that derring-do kind of a guy!
I am a long-distance runner (have run three marathons in
Saskatchewan, and at least 13 half-marathons); I am an excellent swimmer (was a
Red Cross and YMCA swimming instructor for over a decade); I am an avid hiker
(I’ve hiked in several countries outside of Canada, the Gap in Ireland and the
Atlas Mountains in Morocco being just two examples); I am a planetary busker
(as in my hiking habit, I’ve strummed guitar and I’ve drawn portraits on several
streets in several cities outside of Canada, especially in Amsterdam, Dublin,
and Marrakesh); I am not just a pseudo-academic (I’ve taught Psychology at the
University of Regina for over 20 years); I am a hypnotherapist (I’ve a private
practice in downtown Regina, Canada); I am a wannabee master of martial arts (I've take Karate, Tai Chi, and Muay Thai); like I said, I am that derring-do kinda guy! The last part of this rather long sentence
previous to the one you are reading right now is a lie, a “lie of omission” to
be precise.
Rarely do I publish and publicize that I am a wrinkled and
repeating-themes senior citizen. I omit
this factoid because, I am not accepting that I am old. They say (whoever “they” are) that
68 is the new 40. Oh ya. Maybe this is true or
maybe it is not true. Whatever it is, it
does not negate the fact that I am 68 years old and that sucks. It sucks because now my years are
numbered. I’m not sure if I’m afraid to
die (I’m not there yet in my thoughts), but I’m very well aware that I’ve maybe
one or at most two decades left to continue hiking and busking. Again, that sucks!
Even just now admitting that I’m 68 years old is a lie. And that’s just pathetically sad that I am still
lying yet again.
Factoid:
I’ve a proclivity to lie.
Factoid:
I will be 68 years old at the end of this month – MAY 31st.
Factoid:
That sucks!
#mypencilneverlies … BUT I DO!
Posing in my CHAUCERIAN PARADE this week:
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| JUSTIN AT THE MALL |
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| ARTIST RYLIE SHOWING OFF HER PORTRAIT OF MOI |
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| ANOTHER HAPPY CUSTOMER |
