Morning with Mr. Liashkov

I did not want to get up this morning. But I had to fulfill an obligation to Mr. Liashkov, that I would sit for a portrait. So I tore myself up onto my feet, looked around in a daze for my things, washed my face and headed out. It was my day off. Mr. Liashkov greeted me at the top of the stairwell with his usual stern disposition, yet I see where this is directed: Into the journey of his soul, so I do not take this personally though it had been slightly alarming at first. After an amazing breakfast at a nearby cafe of brick toast topped with marinated veggies, kale and an egg with coffee, we leisurely conversed about Zarina Hashmi’s work, how things at work are going for me, how my acting class has been going etc. During the sitting, I asked him about a question that was being pondered a few nights earlier which was: how do you define intelligence? Now Peter as I remember from before, does not like to talk during a portrait session. But this particular morning, I could see we were at a different place; comfortable in each other’s company – realizing there was no need for guards to be up. He acceded his control to conversation and began to discuss this question of intelligence. It became apparent to me how subjective we really are when I ascribed a measure of compassion that is inherent in intelligence. “Well,” Peter disagreeing, “What about Hitler, or what about Stalin? They had incredible intelligence but to what end?” True. So much for an absolute truth!

As the drawing moved along he commented that the drawing was making me a romantic hero. I was humored. When I asked him what he meant, he talked about Lord Byron, the concept of love being identified around the time of the Enlightenment, British landscape painting – where feelings took precedent over the scientific reasoning. I understand. But I am a fan of science too. By the time he was done, I was a bit taken aback, not expecting at all the semblance. It was like looking in a mirror, but through someone else’s eyes. Can you imagine if you asked your friends to draw you? It would be a kaleidoscope of interpretations, a reflection of who your are in accordance to how another person sees you. It would probably be very different from how you see yourself. I wonder now, how people see me.



6 thoughts on “Morning with Mr. Liashkov

  1. wow thats fantastic work! but definitely not how i see you. he drew you with a world weariness that seems to age you and which I don’t see in you at all. But I do like his choice of color for the highlights. those colors bring out the warmth and earthiness, with a bit of a wild streak that I find so endearing about you plum :3 To me, you are the walking fountain of youth. You see the world with wide eyed curiosity and joy, and with a touch of refreshing naivete. Where is your mischievous sparkle, the frank kindness and openness in your eyes? I think he lost that, or perhaps interacts with you in a different energy. Sometimes portraits are just as much of a reflection of the artist as it is meant to be of the subject.

    • Oh gosh. This is refreshing me. Peach. You. Da. Best. It is true. Mr. Liashkov is in another world of complexities. Certainly, world-weariness is of that complexion.

  2. i very much enjoy that portrait of you pranay. you do look a bit worn. mysterious with your 5 o’clock shadow and what i imagine to be a trenchcoat. i also very much enjoy the shadow in the hollow of your eye. shadow or black eye? probably shadow 😛 but a black eye would be some dope stuff too. i imagine my fist fitting perfectly in your eye socket. <–D:! i don't know why i imagined that. but i did 😦

    • Ahh Dandelion. You’re not wrong to imagine and I am all the more endeared for you saying it! I just imagined your fist being cupped by my eye socket. 😉 I think the link you sent me to your blog expired. I hope we can get back connected.

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