100 Faces in 300 Days project, part 1

The aim of this project was for me to draw 100 faces in 300 days in my spare time. The cardinal rules: no grids, no tracing, no projectors, no lightboxes. I went out and bought a nice A4 sketchbook bound in black, and have used different materials so far: graphite seems perfect for the paper (Hahnemuhle D&S), but pastel (Rembrandt), charcoal, dry sanguine and sepia seem to work as well. Wax crayon, not so much. The subjects, for the most part, are people I happened to photograph on my travels, off in the margins of the photos. Blurry faces, to which I've added or strengthened detail. The objective was to study bone structure and how the features of a face reflect light. Regarding the ethics of the project, these pictures were taken years ago, when it was more common to take broad shots of a scene and include the people therein. The likenesses are not all that exact, and I doubt the incidental subjects would recognize themselves. I'm at Face 44 to date.

Bing did these in 2022

In a few weeks, we’ll start getting the Christmas letters, in the mail, typewritten single-spaced on three sheets of paper, and will be sending out our own. My husband writes them in Danish then translates them, and I proofread his English. There is space in each year’s letter for a few paragraphs recounting my year, but the project is on the whole his. He belongs to a different generation, one that still sets a store by newsletters like these, unlike mine, which has come to rely heavily on social media posts with their subservience to algorithms. A meme I found on Facebook, cobbled together by a Gen Xer like myself, probably, called such lengthy Christmas letters the annual humble brag. 

Okay then. Here is my very own “humble brag”, a run-down of the things I did that mattered a lot to me in 2022. Be warned: I’m inspired and might just elaborate on a few of them in future posts.

1. Began a “100 faces in 300 days” challenge: drawings on A4 and A3 paper of people I found in the margins of my travel photos dating back 10 or 20 years.  

2. Taught English to Ukrainian refugees.

3. Thought a lot about war and visited what had once been a war zone (Sarajevo). Rewatched two movies about boys bearing arms – Taps (1981) and Hornets’ Nest (1970)– both of them improbable, both resident in the realm of fantasy, yet with interesting similarities.

4. Edited a book written by my father.  

5. Visited my Philippine home two times. I went through my old drawings and stories, opening a box that hadn’t been touched in more than 20 years and looking at stuff I hadn’t seen in 40 years.  

6. Found the Hornet’s Nest boys as they are today (most of them, anyway) and was finally able to match faces to character and actor names, but for two or three. If you were a kid in the Philippines in the early 70s and early 80s, you will know exactly who the Hornet’s Nest boys were. Made a promise to myself not to post their current photos online unless with permission (that goes without saying, but I thought I would stress the point early on). Have not established contact with any of them.

7. Wrote my second novel in about six weeks, off and on. The best parts were tapped out while in a cabin with a view of the sea, on the island of Bornholm. No sightseeing was done on that week-long vacation, though Bornholm had originally been my idea.

8. Filmed myself speaking in Tagalog and Cebuano for a campaign video, a joint effort of Philippine writers in support of Leni Robredo’s candidacy for president of the Republic of the Philippines. But it was Ferdinand Marcos Jr. who ended up in Malacanang Palace.  

9. Began to wear pink. Again. For too long I had stayed away from this color, preferring black, maroon and navy, in an attempt to age myself and look “professional.” But in 2021-2022 pink took on a courageous new meaning in the Philippines – that of resistance against the vilification and belittling of women, including those with an excellent track record in public service.   

10. Served on a team that proctored the Medborgerskabsprøve and the Indfødsretsprøve, two high-stakes exams taken by those wishing to obtain permanent residency or citizenship in Denmark respectively.  

11. Visited Italy again. My husband and I went to Bologna and to Rome; last year we were in Sicily. Travelled to the Wadden Sea (the western part of Denmark) and from there to Germany. Visited the former Yugoslavia and  Malaysia as well.

12. Made new friends and kept old ones. A surprising number of these interactions occurred on Facebook.

13. Finally resumed my study of Spanish and took the first faltering steps into Italian. All this courtesy of Duolingo and Google Translate.  

14. Taught English to learners (mixed nationalities) at the A1 level.  A1 in the Common European Frame of Reference designates people who are “Beginners”. For some it is the first time they are shaping words in the Latin alphabet. It was an insights-rich experience. Prior to that, most of my students had been in the B1 to C2 range, C2 being the highest level in the CEFR.

15. Completed and delivered portraits of the 14 deans of the Silliman University Divinity School in time for the D.S.’s centennial celebration, and which were unveiled at the Silliman Founders’ Day celebration in August.

16. Got CoVID. On a bus heading to DTU (the Technical University of Denmark) of all places. I’d assumed that with three vaccinations and a recent trip to Italy behind me to test their efficacy, I would now be Covid-proof and that what I had was no more than an annoying cold. I slept on a mattress in the living room so as not to bother my husband with my coughing, and continued to work from home, even on days when I felt like shit. I only discovered what it was when, after over a week, I still had symptoms (albeit diminished) and so took a test to clear myself for a 12-hour workday helping to administer a Cambridge exam. 

17. Had my blood tested as part of a University of Aarhus study on the presence of Covid antibodies in the vaccinated. I’ve been a part of this study since March 2021. I feel proud to hold out my arm and brace myself for the prick of the needle in the interest of medical research.

18.  Lost 8 lbs without trying. I didn’t diet, but in the period right before I started writing my novel and during the writing itself, I couldn’t sleep and had no appetite. Ran on empty. Regained 3 or so lbs eventually, especially after the second visit to the Philippines and then on to Malaysia, but now I know what to do when I want to do it. Corollary: began to eat far less (and less meat!) than before. Let’s see what surprises the scale will have to offer, though, especially after the December chocolate orgy.

19.   Several times took a deep breath and disengaged myself from people and situations that required unfair self-sacrifice. Learned that it isn’t worth it to smile and endure. Took rejection in stride. Learned to say “no.”

100 people in 1 week challenge - Copenhagen in late fall

November has perhaps been the most difficult month for me since the move to Denmark -- it's when one comes to terms with the full impact of the loss of the light, with darkness coming even faster due to the end of summer time (aka. Daylight Saving Time). November – in all its gray, cold and wet meanness – is also the month our family observes my sister’s death anniversary. 

So I’m grateful that this month has been so productive for me, painting-wise. I’ve been painting in watercolors, in a little black book of 300gsm paper the size of a postcard. The book is so light I can have it with me on the train, using the travel time to sketch scenes in pen or pencil, which I then go over with watercolor when I get home. I’d started with landscapes, then cityscapes, often working from photos I took on my phone. But the last few days it’s been the people who populate those cityscapes, the blurry folk in the margins, the shadows in front of a church or a bar that, thanks to the magic of high-definition imagery, emerge crystal-clear on my phone screen when I zoom in on them. The move to people was probably prompted by a visit to the Hirschprung Collection, a museum in central Copenhagen that houses the work of prominent Danish artists from the 19th century, P.S. Kroyer among them. 

Trying to find out what the hashtag “urban sketching” signified, I stumbled upon the 100-people-in-1-week urban sketching challenge, which takes place in March each year (and is hosted by artists Liz Steel and Marc Taro Holmes). I decided to challenge myself to sketch 100 people in 7 days, from life (on the train) or from my own photos. In the process I rediscovered the pleasures of sketching directly with a pen, of line-and-wash (pen-and-ink, then watercolor over it, or vice versa), of using a brush pen then painting over the lines with watercolors and of painting directly with watercolors (without a preliminary pencil or ink drawing). I'm particularly pleased with the results of the latter.

I’m sharing some of those sketches with you. The challenge is ongoing – I have reached 81 people in 5 days, whiling away the otherwise tortuous hours spent on my train commute, and using the painting to keep productive on a day marred by migraine, medication-induced wooziness and joint pain. I am calling this series "Copenhageners."  💝

On the train: the last day people could ride public transport without masks.

On Købmagergade, Copenhagen

From 3 watercolor sketchbooks - 2021

 

Some of my watercolors from three 2021 sketchbook are in this post.  I used sets from Schmincke Horadam and Akademie and St. Petersburg White Nights, on Potentate and Hahnemuhle paper, painting out in nature and from my own photographs. While much of the world is in lockdown, we've been traipsing around Sweden and Denmark, masked for the most part, worried of course, but trying to make the best of it.

Oath-taking day - Day 14 of the Covid-19 lockdown

The Danish flag flies above the flags of the four other Nordic countries.
At Tønder, the border to Germany. Photo mine.

DAY 14 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark.

Today's the day I would've gone down to the municipal hall of Ballerup to take my oath as a Danish citizen, sealed with a handshake.

I don't know whether the state will choose to waive the handshake requirement or whether at some happy time in the near future the grundlovsceremoni will take place at last, setting in motion the process by which I may become a dual citizen of Denmark and the Philippines.

Eleven and a half years have elapsed from when I moved here, my mind made up at last, ending years of flying back and forth on short-stay visas. These past days I've been thinking a lot of what it means to be a naturalized citizen of this country, as well as the things that I had to give up when I left mine. Of the moments of disappointment, the loss of status, the self-doubt, the irrevocable choices, the stymied expectations (oh, I didn’t become American after all!), the burning of bridges. But also the rediscovery of talents, the opening up of language, the recovery of routine, the delight of travel, and -- once I had rejoined the workforce -- the feeling of making a difference in people's lives. And the growing realization that the welfare state with its exemplary health care system had my back.

***

When I began writing these daily updates, I was reeling from the shock of the unexpected nationwide lockdown to stem the spread of the novel coronavirus. The updates were a way to deal with what was, at the time, an inconvenience, a disruption. In the first days much was made about the mad rush for toilet paper, and it was necessary to spend hours on the Internet in an attempt to find out how people were responding to the COVID-19 threat, which in turn was an attempt to divine the future, my future. The notion of a collective fate was a far-off concept. And I actually thought that by the time the two weeks were over, we would be getting ready to step out of lockdown, relieved to have weathered the storm, eager to get back to work and to share lockdown survival tales with colleagues. But as the news turned from the merely worrisome to dire I felt the need to keep going.

The last few years I haven't had the confidence nor the energy to produce written -- much less literary -- work of my own. I've devoted most of my writerly energy to helping other people develop theirs. But as happens when you begin to articulate your thoughts, more come pouring in. New thoughts, new ways of expressing them -- a running commentary in the back of your mind.

So it may be time now to turn back to my unfinished stories, before the window of opportunity provided by this lockdown closes for good.

Plants bloom in the spring, or with the first rains, when conditions are most favorable for the perpetuation of their kind. But they put out flowers, too, when they are stressed, as their systems throw their resources into a desperate gamble to reproduce their genes or risk extinction.

Day 13 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark

 Day 13 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark

It's been a busy day for me, working on a project in the morning, then meeting with my colleagues online, and later in the afternoon, heading off to the now-empty building in Copenhagen where I usually teach, to gather some materials I will need for on-line teaching in the coming weeks.

This included making copies of a few pages from a TOEFL reviewer, a cumbersome book that weighs a kilo and a half, which I carried in my arms to my workplace and back. There are 744 pages in it, plus the table of contents. If all the lives of all the people who died in Italy today, the 24th of March, were compressed into 500 words and printed, this is how heavy their story would feel.

In the train, I eye my fellow commuters surreptitiously. None of the natty blond men in their narrow trousers and cognac oxfords with matching briefcases: they would all be working from home. These travelers are slightly rumpled, in heavy shoes and oversize worker pants: the service people who need to keep the city going, COVID or not. They sport interesting ways to protect themselves: some pull their turtleneck sweaters up over their noses, others burrow into the stovepipe collars of their jackets, some have donned surgical masks and face shields. People use their elbows and the sleeves of their jackets to press the train door buttons. We keep our distance, moving in a strange zombie shuffle to avoid barreling into each other. A tiny cough here and there draws nervous glances. I've been hankering for a big bad burger for days. At McDonald's, there are four kids at the counter to serve the lone takeaway customer, me. At Kongens Nytorv, a woman feeds a flock of pigeons. When she leaves, the bag of crumbs all gone, they wheel around the square. I don't know whether they are happy or distressed, or just being birds.

On the return, I pass the same way. The square is empty except for rows of bicycles -- cool and melancholic in the blue hour. So ends this day.

Day 12 of the Covid-19 lockdown in Denmark

Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen announces that the lockdown will continue until April 13.

***
I remember how, in February, undergoing physiotherapy for a bad ankle and elated that the warm winter had given me a headstart on the hard spring garden work, I said, "Oh I wish I had a few extra weeks to myself. I need to heal, to stop limping around Copenhagen, to quit being a martyr to fitness. I wish we weren't going to Sicily this Spring, much as I love any chance to travel. If only I had a little more time to paint. And to write, to write every day... there are stories that have been struggling to get out of my system for years."
If it were only possible to tune out now, respin the cocoon, pretend my small loop of house and fields and trees and water was all there was to the world.
***
I take a walk, alone, in the golden hour... or is it the blue hour? It's 3 degrees above zero. Everything is still, sharply etched, no jet trails in the sky.

Day 11 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark. March 22.

Denmark presents a more aggressive its testing policy -- now everyone exhibiting mild to moderate symptoms, newborns and their mothers, as well as those performing critical functions in the health sector, must be tested. But first, the supply of testing kits must be replenished.

At present, 232 COVID-19 patients are in hospital, 46 in the ICU. 13 have died.
***
In Italy, a further 651 deaths. It has been a month since the first coronavirus patient was detected there. It is incredible that it has only been 14 days since their nation-wide lockdown on the 8th.
***
In Germany, it is forbidden for more than two persons to meet up in public areas, and Chancellor Angela Merkel goes into quarantine.
***
Around the world, 1 billion are now confined to their homes.
***
Filipinos online mourn three doctors, all of whom have died from COVID-19. These deaths were preventable -- in one case, had a patient only disclosed their history of travel.
***
I grew up on the campus of Silliman University, where my parents were both teachers. It is a place that has had a historic association with the United States, on account of its Presbyterian missionary founders. And for two generations and more, it has trained batch after batch of excellent nurses, many with their eyes set on careers in America (and more recently, the UK, Australia, Ireland, the rest of the world) after gaining enough experience in local hospitals. There is a high proportion of nurses as well as doctors, medical technologies and physiotherapists, among my contemporaries and close friends from back in the day. Of my 16 first cousins on my mother's side, 8 trained as nurses and all but one has worked in the States.
In a message yesterday one of them wrote: "Unfortunately the entire country is in dire need of all the equipment necessary to take care of COVID-19 patients. It is the government that needs to step up their game. Trump has no clue at all what is going on."
They are on an uneasy and already demoralized frontline.

Day 10 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark

Denmark has run out of a reagent necessary to test for coronavirus; testing of healthcare personnel will have to be halted until supplies arrive. 11,657 have been tested, 1327 found positive, 206 hospitalized, 42 in the ICU. 13 have died.

100 million Danish crowns have been sent to foreign countries to help them fight COVID-19.

In Italy, the death toll rises by another 793. 4,825 in all have died.

In Manila, COVID-19 carries away University of the Philippines professor and sinologist Aileen SP Baviera, 60, who had contracted the coronavirus at a conference in Paris.

***

I speak to my father via Facebook messenger. My mom, dad and nieces are fine in Dumaguete City, Philippines, which has taken the additional step of shutting down malls and shops. Only pharmacies, grocery stores and banks can remain open. Public transportation is still operational, though in this comparatively small Asian city, public transpo means motorcycles with sidecars, anachronistically called "pedicabs." The drivers rove the streets in vain; there simply aren't enough passengers to achieve a decent day's income.

We agree that this may be the one year since I migrated to Denmark that I won't be able to come home. We don't know what the situation will be like by summer. Which areas of the world will be considered high-risk? Will there be flights? Quarantines? Closed borders? When will the situation peak in the Philippines? The US? The UK? Maybe we will be spared the fate of Italy. We don't know. But I'm relieved he and my mother have accepted my possible absence; were in fact about to advise me to stay where I am.

***

I take a walk, trying to smile and greet everyone I encounter along the path. Most smile back, but no one speaks to me. The day is beautiful, but people seem closed in, in the winter manner. Under an old coat, I have on a nice outfit -- pinstripes -- something I would wear to teach. It helps to imagine that, when all this ends, we can get back to our old normal.

Vernal equinox and Day 9 of the lockdown

 

Day 9 of the COVID-19 lockdown in Denmark.

March 20, the vernal equinox, when day and night are the same length. The fine weather over the last few days has drawn people out of their homes, to bask in the sun, flouting the law against assembly of more than 10 persons at a time. The national police chief reminds the public to maintain a two-meter distance from other persons in public spaces.  In the coming days, police action will shift from reminders and advice to fines and even force.

Bestseller, the fashion giant behind the labels Vero Moda and Only, fires 750 employees, 15% of its workforce. All over the country, a job is lost every 25 seconds.

The Norwegian government announces a 6B NOK (3.7B DKK) guarantee to save airlines SAS and Norwegian. 

In Denmark, 1255 have been infected so far, 186 in hospital, 37 in the ICU, and 9 dead. In Italy, 627 die in a single day, the worst yet.

Globally, the death toll exceeds 10,000. But in China, no new infections have been reported for the second day in a row.

*** 

A video of celebrities singing "Imagine" would have been precious just a day or so ago; now it is just cringe-worthy. 

***

In Metro Manila, an image of curfew violators under arrest in circulates on social media. They are huddled together in a wire cage designed for hauling garbage. One hospital reveals that 140 of their medical staff have been exposed to the coronavirus and must undergo quarantine.

Day 8 of the Covid lockdown in Denmark

Worried by an earlier World Health Organization recommendation that people suffering COVID-19 symptoms refrain from taking ibuprofen, I call my doctor first thing this morning. Ibuprofen is a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug, and I have been taking NSAIDs nearly every day for most of my life. There are concerns NSAIDs might interfere with the body’s immune system in some way.

Today, however, the WHO has changed its position, writing on its official Twitter account: “Based on currently available information, WHO does not recommend against the use of ibuprofen.”

Still, I need my doctor’s advice. In the last year or so, I have been taking naproxen, another NSAID, on a daily basis, to alleviate pains in my joints which have worsened with age, weight gain, and, yes, exercise. My doctor thinks I should stop taking naproxen IF and when I am infected (or suspect I am infected) with the coronavirus. Which means it is safe to continue at present.

I am well. But this is all the more reason to stay home and observe social distancing, keep updated on developments, and listen to the recommendations of experts. And consult with your physician if you have been prescribed NSAIDs. So much is unknown about COVID-19.

***

Leaders of the political parties in parliament appear together at a press conference to announce an increase (to 107 billion Danish crowns) in the economic assistance they are extending to businesses and individuals. The optics are remarkable: left wing and far right and all in between standing gravely behind a trio of lecterns, to address the country in turn.

***

A five-star restaurant assembles luscious meals for the doctors and hospital workers attending to coronavirus patients. Fifty respirators normally used in veterinary clinics around the country are on standby.