At the jail, on Friday, the inmate who goes by “Macho” posed for four hours. I brought more detail to the painting.
In Italy, I learned that small details can be absolutely everything. In a Giotto fresco, I once looked closely at a face of a woman, and saw a faint tear on the side of her cheek. It was painted so delicately, that it almost wasn’t there. If that detail were not there, the piece would have failed, in my opinion; and with the tear, to me, the fresco stands out in all of art history.
I observed a slight sneer in Macho’s lip, as he spoke. It wasn’t a sneer of indifference, or of callous derision. It was a small detail, a something which I can’t put into words.