Uproar in the drawing room

“Andi, don’t do any faxes today, okay!” Julia admonishes me. We are drawing portraits in “The Castle” in Berlin-Mitte. Before we start, everyone writes their names on a card so that they can later sit as models. Now I've just been called. I nod to Julia and take a seat on the couch to pose or sit as a model.

Julia alludes to my tendency not to make things too easy for the artists present. The last time I sat on the couch, I had half of my face covered with one hand under my chin. To make the picture more interesting I thought. “No, please without your hand!” several people shouted. Many people can draw faces quite well, but not hands.

It's starting. Three people sit in two rooms, a model for around 50 illustrators. I sit very still and fixate on a point on the opposite wall. A large lamp shines at me from the right side. Most of them are drawing quietly and concentrating, only two men directly to the left in front of me are talking a little too loudly in English.

I try not to let it bother me. What exactly they are talking about cannot be understood. The laughter of a group of tourists can be heard from outside. As always, the same playlist is playing, something with Amy Winehouse. The two men are annoying. I now look to my left to see who is speaking. The men see me looking at them, pause for a moment and then resume their conversation a little more quietly.

»Please don't look away! Don't get distracted!" I am warned by a man in front of me. I obey and look at the wall again. Ten more minutes. The two talk louder again. Now I look over again a little longer, this time I look directly at her. They keep talking. “Can you please be quiet,” the man in front of me admonishes her. “Oh, I don’t mind,” one responds, strangely indifferent. »It's just a bit of chit chat. “This is a social gathering,” mumbles the other, just as ignorantly. They don't want to stop talking. "That will not do! I can't work like that!" shouts the man who had just warned me and the men, jumping up, putting his drawing board aside and packing up his pencils. Then he unplugs the spotlight and folds the stands together. He's one of those people who always brings the lamps.

“Oh no!” I exclaim. »Don't go! You've already won!' 'It doesn't work like that,' he replies. "I'm not in a good mood anyway!" And he's gone. Everyone is a bit perplexed. Someone pulls a slightly smaller and less powerful floor lamp out of the corner and positions it. Drawing continues. I feel guilty for provoking the conflict.

Actually, the quiet atmosphere in the room, the quiet work together, the pause while the world continues to turn around us, is something that everyone enjoys. And actually no one has anything against people talking to each other for a moment. Some even manage to have a conversation, not disturb each other and still produce very good pictures. This unspoken agreement is based on simple politeness. It doesn't have to be enforced. Unless two ignorant men without any sense of guilt meet a bad-tempered, impatient man.