On the first ride, I struggled to find my pencil so the drawing didn't develop much. However, I think the shortened train ride forced me to find the most important moments compositionally. As I do more and more of these with varying time constraints, I notice that the drawing usually starts with the windows between my car and the next. The extreme recessive space feels like I'm holding my arm out andreachingreachingreaching down the aisle.
Next time, I think I'll challenge myself to draw the view from the window, finding the subtleties in the dark reflection underground and the beautiful transitions between bright brights and dark darks of materials. I wonder how the space will feel without the dimensionality of a far reaching gaze.
From 35th and Market to 15th street station, there was a woman listening to her headphones sitting toward my 5 o'clock. About a minute before the train reached my stop, she looked over. While the train idled in the station, I quickly asked if she would like a drawing. They're free, I said and offered her an envelop. I was happy that she took it and exited the train.
(I keep feeling like that person who has forgotten to ask for a date to some important event. Scrambling as I'm about to leave, I hope the other person says Yes.)
After fumbling during my first drawing, the second one was like the lightening round of a game show. My mind screamed Go!Go!Go! as I boarded the train. Scrawling and tearing and rubbing at the paper, I tried to work as quickly as possible. I felt as if my passive performance had taken on this aggressive nature. The stakes were high. Do or die, Lauren Robie. Draw and be noticed! Hurry!
Finally, I found a woman looking at me draw like a mad person, propped around the metal pole.
Would you like a drawing?
No, thank you. I was just looking.
It's okay. It is part of an art project.
It was a quick interaction. Stepping onto the station platform, my hands shook from the mental exertion of that drawing.