Several months back, I had the idea of asking - commissioning - John to draw a portrait of Chessie using a photo I'd snapped of her with against a grey background, back lit with indirect sunlight, semi-laying atop a multi-colored boa. It was a really terrific photo, or so I thought, that incorporated play of shades & colors, sharp edges & fluffy feathers, cool slate & a cool cat. It would give me a great opportunity to work hand-in-glove with John, providing input as he worked through thumbnail to first drawing to final picture.
Or so I thought.
John wouldn't let me see it. All but one request was firmly denied. Weeks - weeks - of requests were turned down. No - I'm wrong. I was allowed to see it, once, several weeks back. No input, no working together, no discussing getting down on paper whatever it was I saw in the photo I'd taken, what I'd envisioned John drawing since first spotting Chessie with the boa on the foyer slate slabs.
So, it's not surprising that what John's spent weeks & weeks drawing bears basically no semblance to what I'd envisioned in my mind's eye, in my heart. Because it was a picture that totally won my heart. A picture that could have cemented our partnership in expanding his art process without sacrificing the quality that makes it John's.
Just the subject matter alone would have been a playful stretch for John, as it was soft-edged, even out-of-focus, which - in my eyes - gave it a wonderful sense of contrasts. Except he didn't envision it as playful, as his artistic sensibility isn't about paradox, let alone partnership. He drew the picture the way he wanted, which included no input from me. My opinion had no value to him.
It would make me sad if it didn't irk me more.
The drawing is ruined for me, although the photo is not (thank goodness). The picture would be a constant reminder of what could have been, if it had been of interest to John. What I hoped for in my heart goes against John's nature. That is not a criticism, just a reality. Not worth my time or even the energy of regret.
It would have been a nice painting, the one I envisioned. It would have had depth - where this is flat. It would have had a sense of play - where this one is static. It would have been playful - where this one is stodgy. It would have been filled with lights & greys & a boa infused with a variety of colors, rather than dark & light & red.
And I'm okay with that. What I'm not okay with is going through the heartbreak of what I went through, then John turning around & drawing what I requested. Because the drawing isn't, wasn't, never was what I was after.
I wanted to work a different process, to arrive at the ending through collaboration from first to last. And that will never be. The experiment failed. But I learned (or relearned) a great lesson ~ ~ I can't, won't playing the shrew, badgering someone to do something I see as important. Not my way of getting through life.
If it had mattered to John, then it might have been something very special. It didn't. He could redo the picture, he could make Chessie smudgier (although that might be outside his style sense), the boa looking & positioned more like the one in the photo. But it wouldn't matter. Because it was never about the picture, but about the process.
I hoped for a different ending, but it seems that it was never to be. Move on to the next story.
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