Matt Jones paints with words

Photo by Matthew LeJune on Unsplash

My friend and colleague, Matt Jones (not pictured above), shared some of his word portraits. I don't know about you, but I'm getting a Charles Bukowski vibe. 

Here's what Matt says about his paintings:

I have always been intrigued and somewhat envious of people who sit in public places sketching passersby. It’s a talent I could never develop. I’m a writer and I am more than okay with that.

Then one day I was watching over the shoulder of a young man flawlessly sketching a fellow commuter and it hit me—I can do this. Only not with graphite or pastels.

I can do it with words.

What fascinates me about this idea is when we view a portrait, we all pretty much walk away with a similar representation in our heads (all things being equal). If I say “Mona Lisa” for example, we create very similar images in our mind’s eye.

With a word portrait, image creation is left to the imagination, generated solely and wholly within the mind of the reader. And every image created will be as unique and nuanced as the person themselves.

Here are a few examples, named Orion, Joy, and Patch. I hope you enjoy meeting them. Someday, I’d like to collect enough to do an actual gallery showing where the art on display is nothing but text on a page. A place where you can let your mind be the artist. If I do it, I hope to see you there.

 

ORION

His ill-fitting suit hung awkwardly

from his oddly shaped frame,

all over-hangs and strange angles.  

His hair swept back in thin,

predictable,

oily lanes.

A smug grin dissecting the Orion’s Belt of moles

strewn across his cheek.

Another, single mole perched

at the edge of his profile.

Like a comma at the end of an unturned page.

JOY

She smelled of cheap

Hobby Lobby candle.

Her clothing all black.

Festooned.

With sequins,

crosses,

and strategically placed

factory crafted rips.

Her hair was thin.

Her skin, thick.

A tragedy in tanned hide.

The party had ended long ago.

But she’d be damned

if she’d admit it.

So she orders another drink on the plane 

with an all-too-husky laugh that probably drew desirous gazes, once.

More smoke and roughness

now 

than sex.

PATCH 

The broad swatch of dark facial hair

that rested

Just beneath his lower lip

Looked like a misplaced mustache

that had been violently sneezed south.