Audrey has always kind of wanted to have her portrait drawn. She sees these artists all over NYC in tourist-trap areas, sitting next to displays of their renditions of Taylor Swift and the Beatles.

Audrey has had enough of selfies. She is curious about how she appears to others.

Today seems as good a day as any. It’s beautiful, not too warm, not too cold, and she’s wearing her favorite leggings.

The first artist she approaches tells her he was an artist and an art teacher in China. She believes him. He is very sure of himself. He starts at the top of her head and works methodically down to her shoes, never erasing, never making vague gestural movements. He seems to really like Audrey. He tells her “she has life.” Audrey doesn’t know, maybe he says this to all his customers.

The next artist has a completely different approach. He sketches in her whole outline first, and then goes back and fills in details. He uses his eraser frequently and smudges with his fingers to achieve the effect he wants.  Halfway through her sitting, he removes his jacket.

And the third artist, again, has his own method. He says he’ll draw a caricature portrait, and he’ll draw her “doing something.” She can’t imagine what he means.

After a certain point he stops looking up at her, and she can tell he is no longer drawing from life, but from his imagination. She’s fascinated. How does he do that?

Like the first two artists, this artist continues to touch up his drawing even after he says he’s finished. He carefully adds tiny dabs of color to the center of her eyes before sliding the portrait into a protective plastic sleeve.

Audrey appreciates how much they care about their work. It wasn’t necessarily something she expected. And not one of them told her to smile.

The finished portraits:

She doesn’t know which one she likes best. Any votes?

Now she wants to go find more artists, to see what they see when they look at her.

The third artist envisioned her as a nightclub singer. She can’t believe it. How could he possibly have guessed her most secret dream?

Audrey is made from gray felt from Alyse, who said she had intended to make curtain linings but never did. Her top is made from a t-shirt of my daughter’s, and her leggings from a hoodie. Her shoes are from one of my husband’s old neckties.

With my imagination
I can see it!
With my pencil crayons
I can draw it!
On a piece of paper
I can show it to you!
I can show it to you.

Draw, draw, drawing
Na na na na na

—from “Drawing” by Barenaked Ladies