"You want to take MY photograph?"
"Yes mam, I do."
Carol Lee Morgan, local sculptor and figure painter in Washington, DC.
When I got on the metro, I saw her gracefully and yet militantly marking the pages in her sketchbook; she took in the characters passing her by through the clear lenses of her oversized red-rimmed eyeglasses, like a technician at work. When I approached her, I told her I was a primarily a writer, now trying out film. Oh yes, she said, film is more real than digital - an artist friend of hers only takes pictures of his paintings with film. (And I'm hoping mine turns out, as the lighting was low and I'm a newbie - hence the backup iPhone picture above.)
"What gives you joy?" I asked. She looked down for just a moment.
"Making beautiful pieces and being pleasantly surprised."
She carried a black portfolio larger than a guitar case, and I wondered what treasures lay inside. She gave me her card and said she was being honored at a gallery later this month - I should come, she said, as there might be people I should meet. We said goodbye and I felt a little more grounded, a little more human, a little more understood by the woman who sketched others on the metro, eyes darting and indulging, unapologetically recording humanity as it lived, breathed, walked. I felt a little more grounded, a little more human, a little more understood by Carol, the sculptor.
Her favorite color is purple.