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.
