Mr. Broversham's Art Class

How do we react when we compare how we see others with how we are seen?

The lone figure walked across the parking lot toward his destination. Veering headlights emerged from the darkness and slowly hesitated upon seeing him in the night. Likewise, he was cautious of the approaching vehicle. He proceeded on to the nearby building, while the car found a suitable location and parked. Two occupants emerged from the vehicle and there was friendly chatter toward the first fellow still lingering on the sidewalk. Laughter ensued, as well as very loud discussions of sorts. All three figures walked into the establishment together. 

"Hey!" the cheers went up with recognition. The room full of people participated in friendly greetings and warm welcomes. The conversation was even tempered, followed by more amused merriment. Drinks were provided and were had by all. 

"So is everyone here?" one fellow asked. "And I'm Tovardius, for those who may be trying to place my name," he added with a smile. More laughter. 

"There seems to be a lot more people than what I remember." 

"Really? I was thinking not half of us are here." 

"Well, the count is fourteen. So that's about right." 

"Sam's not here."

"Who was that?" 

"What happened to Sam?"

"Who was Sam?"

"The thin fellow who wore the same jacket all the time."

"What happened to him?"

"He died."

"Oh. What a shame. He seemed so nice."

"I hate to hear that." 

"He could draw real good, too." 

"Well, I think we all could in one way or another. That's why we're here." 

"Yes, we the alumni of Mr. Broversham's artistic studies class, where we all met." 

"To Mr. Broversham!" they all cheered together. 

"Sad to think he passed on."

"So what's everybody done since we last saw one another in his class? For those who don't remember me, I'm Anjulia and I'm married and became a teacher. Of art history." 

"Oh, that's all so boring to say what we are doing now," said a small white woman. "For those who recall me, I'm Sue and I worked at a bank for years, now I mostly freelance where my painting is concerned." 

"Who remembers me and Ned?" said one rather boisterous tall white fellow. There were a few laughs, mainly from other guys, followed by more menial chatter. 

"That's right, the brothers." 

"We really didn't pay a lot of attention to one another if we weren't drawing." 

"Seems that way." 

Idle conversation ensued once more, then an elegant black woman stepped from behind a curtain. "Excuse me," she said. The group toned down a bit. "If you would all step this way, please?"

"Who's that?"

"I don't know, but I'd like to find out." 

With several of the women leading, the group slowly proceeded through the curtain to step into a circle of over a dozen easels with a properly displayed drawing on each of them. There followed gasps of surprise and then all but stunned silence from some of the group. 

"It's the drawings," said Sue. 

"This one has my name on it. Who did this?" a guy asked. 

"Don't you remember? We all drew them." 

"We drew these? How long ago?" 

The group mulled over the artwork a bit more. At the top of each drawing was the name of the person it was supposed to be. 

"Well, this is obviously Ned's drawing," said one of the brothers, about a drawing of a black youth with the unlikely name of 'Jamerrick' across the top of the portrait.

"How do you know this?" asked a black man standing near. 

"Because it looks like my artwork. Ned and I have always drawn the same way."

"Bob, are you sure I drew that? I don't remember drawing that." 

"Well, I didn't draw, . . . . Jammer Rick." 

"Jamerick, Bob. Say it all together. "

Bob looked at the man who had been standing near him. "is this you?" he asked. 

"Yes," Jamerick replied. "That's your drawing of me."

"No, it's Ned's drawing of you." 

"No, you drew that, Bob."

Bob looked at the image a bit. "How do you know you didn't draw it?" he asked of his brother. 

"Because I remember who I drew and it wasn't Jamerick," Ned replied.

"I don't remember drawing this," Bob said, actually quieting down a bit. 

"Well, you didn't seem to remember me, why would you remember drawing me?" Jamerick replied. Bob stared at the picture some more. 

"You sure I drew this?" he asked Ned. 

"We always drew the same way. Your name should be on the back somewhere." 

Sure enough, picking up the picture and looking behind it, there was Bob's name as the artist. 

"I don't remember doing this." 

"It's a strange feeling for an artist to forget his work, isn't it?" said Anjulia, who had approached. "But as young as we were, it seems unlikely any of us will recall this work." 

"Well, if I drew Jamerick here," Bob said, almost flustered, "then it should be easy to pinpoint Ned's drawing."

"is this it?" a black man called from the other side of the room. Several of the group, now slowly operating in one conversation about the drawings and who did them, gravitated over to the new focus. 

"Ah, yep. That's mine," Ned replied. "I recognize my style, unlike Bob, obviously, but I remember drawing this, . . . . Kat." 

"Is she here?" asked Anjulia. 

"I'm right here," Kat replied. The group turned to look upon the quiet individual, then several of them looked back to Ned's drawing to see how well he captured her. 

"Strange to draw someone you never really knew," Ned said, looking at the dark-haired woman. "Or someone you had access to, sitting in a room with them, but you still didn't know them. Only had appearance to go on." 

"Maybe that was the point of the whole lesson," Kat said, looking back at Ned. "How well are we seeing who is really there." 

"Where's your drawing, Kat? Let's see how well you did," Ned said to her. 

"Wouldn't that be going the wrong way?" she replied. "We should look to the drawing of you and see who did that." 

The group had the strangest sensation they were in for a learning experience about themselves and each other. 

"Allright," said Anjulia. "Let's look at Ned's because I can't wait to get to mine." 

"Here he is, over here." 

Most of the crowd ventured toward the next drawing in question, with the name 'Ned' above it. 

"I look relaxed," Ned replied. 

"I was thinking you look intense," said Tovardius. 

"Did you draw it?" Ned asked him. 

"No, that's not mine." 

"Well, I know you didn't draw it," Ned said to Kat. 

She looked at him, slightly smiling. "How do you know I didn't do it?" 

"Looks too basic. I'd expect something from you to be more complete. Did you draw it?" 

Kat stared at Ned, rather puzzled now. "Do you remember me?"

"I drew you, didn't I?" he answered. 

She turned away from him and looked at his drawing. "No," she responded. "I didn't draw you." 

"I did," a black man answered. The group turned to see this fellow who had been quiet in their midst. 

"Who are you?" 

"Geronte. I drew Ned there." 

"I remember you." 

"This is your work?" Ned asked. 

Kat looked at Geronte a bit. 

"These were assignments, if somebody doesn't recall. We didn't get to pick who we drew, we were given the name and had to draw each other in class." 

"That's right. I remember that now." 

"Why would I have wanted to draw you?" Geronte said to Ned. 

Ned smiled. "Well, you are very good. And it is an interesting interpretation." 

"You had a lot more hair back then."

"i think we all did." 

Group laughter. 

"So on to the next picture?" Tovardius spoke up. "Where's Geronte?" 

Like on a quest now, the group turned to see the drawing of Geronte. 

"Oh, that's awful!" a white girl said. 

"How can you say that?" Anjulia asked of her. "That's mean." 

"Because I drew that," she replied. 

The assembly laughed at her admittance as she stood there frowning. 

"Well, so much for guessing that one. Are you sure this is yours?" 

"Yes, I drew this," she answered, picking up the picture and turning it over. "There's my name. Gina." 

"So you think this looks like me?" Geronte asked of her. 

"I didn't even know you," she answered. "I didn't know any of you. I didn't like this assignment and I see why now," she continued on, still staring at the picture. "I didn't know who you were, so I substituted my father for you." 

"I look like your father?" Geronte asked, smiling. 

"I couldn't think of who else to draw. You were near enough in the class, but I didn't know anything about you. Oh, I hate this drawing." 

"Well, wait a minute," Geronte said. "I like seeing how I'm perceived by a white person." 

"As their father," Jamerick said, laughing. 

"So no matter who you had to draw, you were going to draw your father," Anjulia asked. "That's interesting." 

"We didn't know each other, or I didn't know any of you. I hate this drawing," she whined again. 

"Well, okay," Anjulia laughed. "I still want to know who drew me, so on to the next picture. Where's Gina?"

Many of them were now enjoying the artistic scavenger hunt and circled around looking for Gina's portrait.

"Here she is," someone said. They gathered around. 

"That's not half-bad," Gina responded. "Looks better than what I did." 

"It's a rather good likeness," said Ned. "We'd have to recall how you looked back then, I guess."

"We'd have to do that with all of us."

"So does it look like a black drawing or a white drawing?" 

"What difference does that make?"

"Actually," Bob spoke, "it is beginning to seem like that was what we were set up to explore. How we saw each other racially." 

The group stood silent, pondering such an observation. 

"So," Bob said, "what do we think? Was Gina drawn by a black person or a white person?" 

"I think it was a very talented person."

"I agree." 

"So do I," Gina said. "I wish I had done this well on my drawing. Who did this?" 

"That's mine." 

They turned to look at the black gentleman who pretty much first spoke to them. 

"Tovardius." someone responded. "Very nice."

"It is good," Gina said, looking at him. "I'm so ashamed of what I did to Geronte." 

Geronte laughed. "She isn't going to get over that." 

"I called it, Ode to the White Girl," Tovardius said, looking at his drawing again. "I was watching you back then as you drew Geronte. I wasn't sure who you were drawing, as I couldn't see the name, but I could see you were drawing some interesting black dude." 

Gina looked at Tovardius steadfastedly as he made this revelation. 

"Well, you knew somebody had to be drawing you," he said to her. 

"I guess we all should have known that, but we didn't think about that, did we?" Ned stated. 

"On to Tovardius' drawing," exclaimed Anjulia again, "so we can get to my drawing."

"We'll get to them all eventually," Tovardius responded. He was becoming annoyed with Anjulia'a seemingly personal quest to learn who drew her. 

"So here is Tovardius," Ned exclaimed. "Who do we think drew him?"

"Someone who didn't like me," Tovardius answered. There was laughter in the group. 

"I like it," Gina said. "Mine is so awful." 

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," Anjulia proclaimed. "Tired of hearing artists over-critique their work like that."    

"Do you think it looks that bad, Tovardius?" 

"Well, . . . " he began. 

"We can't all draw like you, man," Ned proclaimed. 

"It's not that bad," someone else stated. 

"So who did it?" 

No one spoke up. 

"Well, they don't want to say now, because you dogged them down so much," Anjulia stated. 

Ned picked up the drawing to turn it around and see the artist's name.

"I drew it." 

The group now looked to Jamerick. 

"You drew this man?" Tovardius asked, half-laughing. 

"Yea," Jamerick said. "Just what I thought of you." 

Several of the persons were amused. 

"And that brings us to Jamerick's drawing, who we know already was drawn by . . . . " Ned began, then looked to his brother. "Are you still pondering how you could have drawn Jamerick?" 

"I just don't remember drawing that."

"Drawing him," Anjulia seemingly corrected.

"I'm a that," Jamerick laughed. 

"That brings us to Bob's drawing," Anjulia stated, walking toward the white man drawing. The image was of a rather plain white fellow with light brown hair and blue eyes. 

"Oh, is that me? Doesn't look like me." 

"Looks exactly like you," Ned stated. "Or the way you looked then."

"More hair," Geronte added. 

"So who saw me like this?"

"Don't you want to try to guess if it was a black person or a white person?" a small black woman asked. 

"I think it was a black person," Bob stated. 

"Now why do you say that?" Anjulia asked. 

"i don't know." 

"You must not like it if you think a black person drew it," she responded. 

"No, that's not it." 

"If it matters, it was drawn by a black person," the young woman commented. 

"Did you draw it?" Anjulia asked. 

"Yes, I did," she stated. Bob looked at her, then the drawing of him.

"Is this how you saw me?" 

"Yes, I guess I did. I'm Trinetta, by the way, because I know you don't remember me." 

"I can't remember all those names," Bob said. 

"Well, you didn't remember your own drawing either, so what does that say?" Geronte stated. 

"Is this ever going to end?" Anjulia asked. "On to Trinetta's drawing." 

The clan gathered around the image labeled 'Trinetta' and looked at a rather nicely rendered picture of a young teen. 

"This looks good," Tovardius stated. 

"This one is good," Kat agreed. 

"So guesses on who drew it?" Ned inquired. 

"I already know," Geronte said. 

"So do I," Jamerick added. "Used to like to watch him draw." 

"So we know it wasn't a girl," Anjulia commented. 

"So who did it?" 

"It was Sam's," Trinetta revealed. 

They stood silent for a bit, looking at the offering of one of their own who was no longer with them. Some of them, such as Tovardius and Jamerick, had moved on to Sam's portrait. 

"I knew it was his," Geronte said, quietly. "I liked Sam." 

"Sam had problems," Bob stated. "He made wrong decisions." 

"Yea, I liked Sam."

The rest of the gathering moved on to the drawing of Sam. They stood with the others to look at the fairly decent drawing of a youth with dark hair. 

"Not bad," Anjulia commented. 

"He knew who drew him," a fellow who had said very little so far, now stated. 

"How did he know?" 

"He could recognize your style, if he got the chance to see it. We only saw these pictures once back then, and Sam recognized my work right off."

"You drew Sam?" 

"I remember we got to see the pictures like a month later, then there was a problem with us drawing each other, and we didn't see them anymore."

"Yea, I drew Sam. I guess nobody remembers me." 

"You're Cal," Bob spoke up. "We remember you. All the attention has been on the rest of us so far."

"Yea, I drew Sam," Cal stated. "I thought it was pretty good, but I got the impression, . . . he wasn't impressed," Cal said with a smile. 

"Well, on to Cal's picture." 

"Oh, I know who drew me." 

"How do you know?" Anjulia asked. 

"I married the artist." 

The group now looked around at each other, looking for who the spouse might be. 

"Yes, Cal and I married a few years after high school, when we were in college," a young woman spoke. 

"You're Jen," Ned said. 

"I remember you, Jen. Hey, girl!" Kat said, smiling. 

"So you two married?" Anjulia asked. 

"We divorced after two years." 

"I guess it was amicable." 

"I suppose it was," Cal said, "but as soon as we entered, I took one look at my picture and remembered her saying she drew me and could recognize it."

"You two came in together," Geronte stated. 

"Well, it was amicable. We get along better now than we did when we were married." 

The group laughed. 

"I'm really going to hate to see this end now." 

"Well, all good things, so on to Jen's picture." 

They turned to look at the dark-haired girl with 'Jen' across the top and examine the work.

"We really are down to very few suspects left," Anjulia noted. 

"It's very good," said Jamerick.

"Not bad," Tovardius added. 

"I'd say a female illustration," Kat declared. 

"Why do you say it was a female?" 

"A young girl's hand, for the age we were. Not a teen boy." 

"So, who drew Jen?"

"That was mine," Sue spoke up. They turned and looked at her. 

"Adolescent artwork from a long time ago," Sue observed. 

"You think this looked like me?" Jen asked. 

"I really don't remember, and I've done so much drawing since then." 

"On to Sue's picture then?"

"Oh, I'll tell you who drew that one. I did, so now we can find out who drew mine," Anjulia boldly stated. 

"Anjulia, we didn't get to try to guess or anything about your drawing," Gina stated. 

"It's a little blonde girl," Anjulia quipped. "Now who drew me?" 

"Jen, that don't look a bit like you," Tovardius said.

"You don't think I can draw?" Anjulia asked, looking at him. 

"Don't look like her," he responded. 

Anjulia coldly turned away from him, then quietly asked, "so who drew me?" 

"Not many people left to choose from," Ned observed. 

"Who drew this? Bob? Ned? Sam?" Anjulia asked. 

"Sam didn't draw it, Anjulia, and he isn't here." 

"She hasn't been looking at what anyone else did but what pertains to her," Jamerick said out loud to no one in particular. 

"Who drew me like this?" Anjulia asked again. She looked to one lone black figure who hadn't really spoke the entire time. 

"You didn't draw me, did you?" she inquired of him. 

"No," he ansnwered. "I didn't draw you." 

"I did." 

As they had done nearly each and every time, the gathering turned to view the speaker. 

"You did this?" Anjulia asked. "Your name is Drack, . . . "

"Dracaya," the woman corrected her. 

"You thought this was how I looked?"

"I suppose I did, and I wasn't white, was I?' Dracaya said with a smile. "You just knew that was going to be a white person who drew you like that, didn't you?"

"So this was how you saw me?"

"Anjulia, we were children when we did these," Dracaya said. "I guess now we see why the whole assignment was dismissed and we never saw these pictures again, except for that one time. People were getting upset over how they might have been seen."

Anjulia stared at her image for a bit, then added, "I don't think it looks like me." 

"Captured your essence," Geronte explained, somewhat. 

"Well, we should be done by now," Anjulia declared. 

"No," we still have Dracaya's," Tovardius pointed out. 

"Is there anybody left who hasn't identitied their drawing yet?" Kat asked. 

The focus was now on the drawing labeled as 'Dracaya'. They gathered round and looked at it.

"Rather nice drawing, actually," Ned commented. 

"Does somewhat look like i did back then, actually," Dracaya said with a smile. 

"Then why did you draw me like that?" Anjulia interjected. 

"Girl, let it go. Her drawing of you is actually quite good. Now we are all just going by how we see how others saw us. Some of us were better artists than others, but we didn't draw the same subject matter." 

"I actually like her drawing of you," the one lone fellow who really hadn't said much, other than when Anjulia asked if he did her drawing, spoke up. 

"You like that?" Anjulia queried of him.

"I think it is very good."

"Thank you," Dracaya said to the fellow. 

"You must have drawn her," Anjulia said to him. 

"I did."

"I thought so. You're the only person left, I think." 

"I like the way you drew me," Dracaya said to the young man. 

"They don't remember you, Leontrell," Tovardius declared. 

"I remember Leontrell," Gina said. "You were very talented." 

"It is a good drawing of Dracaya." 

"Well, that's everbody, ain't it?" 

"Wait a minute," Ned spoke up. "Who drew Leontrell?" 

Ned turned to Kat. "Did you draw Leontrell?" 

She smiled at the big fellow. "No," she answered. "That is not my drawing." 

"I think I remember who drew me," Leontrell offered up. 

"I know who drew you," Kat responded. 

"But there's nobody left," Cal interjected. 

They all looked around the room. 

"Yes," Trinetta spoke up, "yes, there is one more." 

Trinetta looked to the young woman who summoned them all through the curtain. 

"I recognize you now," Anjulia said, looking at the woman more closely now. 

"Yea," Geronte said. "I remember you now, too."

Kat commented, "I knew who she was because I drew her."

"Well, can you tell us who you are?" Cal asked. 

"That's Rosera," Jen said to her ex. 

"That's who I thought drew me," Leontrell added. 

Rosera stood to the side and simply smiled. 

"So if you knew about all of this, you must have had a hand in setting it up," Bob said to Rosera. 

"I was contacted about gathering here, same as all of you, and asked if I would guide you to the pictures, for all of us to see again," Rosera explained. 

"But who contacted you?" Anjulia asked. 

Rosera turned to the one of them about whom the quetion was posed. They all looked in the direction she viewed. 

"Trinetta?" Bob asked, looking to the young woman who drew him. 

"So how did you come to have these pictures?" asked Anjulia. 

"Mr. Broversham was her dad," Kat said. 

"That's right," Sue said. "I remember his daughter was in the class." 

"I never knew your daddy was Mr. Broversham," Anjulia stated. 

"I didn't know Mr. Broversham's daughter was in our class," Tovardius stated. 

"Amazing how little we focused or even spoke to one another, except where the drawings were concerned." 

"Well, we didn't get to discuss the drawings back then or anything, Because someone complained about students drawing each other. saying it might be insulting." 

"Especially as none of us were in the class to be insulting." 

"Well, I have to say," Geronte declared, "I think it might be better to do this as adults and not as children. Bit more capable to handle it now."

"Some of us, anyway," Leontrell said, casting a look at Anjulia. 

"Are you referring to me, Leontrell?"

"Anjulia, I think we all could have drawn you and you would have been offended by each and every one of them." 

Anjulia crossed her arms and looked at Dracaya's drawing some more. "So what exactly were we supposed to get from this lesson?" she finally asked.

"You haven't noticed?" Tovardius asked. "Check this out. Here's my drawing of Gina. Jamerrick drew me, so move his drawing over here. Geronte drew Ned, so bring Ned's picture over here." 

The group watched as Tovardius, Geronte and Jamerrick brought their pictures together, then Leontrell followed through and did the same. They looked at the four images of Gina, Tovardius, Ned and Dracaya. 

"We each did a black male, a black female, a white male and white female," Tovardius noted. "Do this with any four of us, and you should get the same results."

Sue was already bringing her classification together. "Kay drew Rosera, Gina did Geronte, I did Jen, and Jen drew Cal. So what did this prove?" 

"Diversity in how we see each other, perhaps?" Jamerrick said. 

"Try it the other way around," Trinetta instructed, "and bring the four illustrations of the white females together." 

"That would be Tovardius' drawing of Gina, Ned's drawing of Kay, Anjulia's drawing of Sue and Sue's drawing of Jen. Now what do we see? How a white man sees a white woman, a black man sees a white woman, a black woman sees a white woman and a white woman sees herself." 

They stared at the pictures from either aspect; unfair or not, how a race and gender sees a person and likewise how they are seen. 

"Of course it isn't fair to reach any conclusions based on this reasoning. The four white guys could have drawn each other. They wouldn't necessarily have 'looked the same'."

"Still, it seems it took a medium in which we were noted for what we could do and not who we are to at least explore how we might see each other. Again, granted the four black females don't draw the same to begin with. Only the two brothers do."

So they looked again at the drawings of Kat and Jamerrick.

"Yea, I guess I do see how similar they are in style, but not in the person they were drawing, obviously." 

"So artistically," Anjulia began, "I could compare Dracaya's drawing of me with my drawing of Sue, Trinetta's drawing of Bob and Rosera's drawing of Leontrell, to see how they turned out, if I feel Dracaya's drawing of me wasn't that good." 

"Or, if you like, you could compare Dracaya's drawing of you with Kay's drawing of Rosera, Sam's drawing of Trinetta and Leontrell's drawing of Dracaya, and see how they compare, if they do at all." 

The fifteen people stood in silence, contemplating how they viewed each other as distant youth they once hardly knew and what they were capable of viewing when they did the drawings. 

"I think I've been here long enough," Anjulia said. "So are we going to keep in touch or what? Has that ship sailed?"

"Well, I think we know how you'll feel, Anjulia, but as we leave here tonight, will we be taking the drawing we did ourselves, or will we be wanting the drawing done of us?" 

They looked at their pictures again and said nothing. Some finally spoke up, "oh, I want my drawing" with no clarification as to which one they were wanting. 

Bob stared at his drawing of Jamerrick, the picture that seemed to set the whole series of events unfolding that night. 

Likewise, Anjulia stared at Dracaya's drawing of her and studied it for a likeness. 

Dracaya slowly stood beside her and looked at it with her. 

They felt simplified in some aspect as being who they saw and how others see them. It wasn't a resemblance they felt was captured, but the deduction of how a person was observed. 

"I'm not sure how I feel about this," Anjulia finally said. 

"That seems to be the whole point of it," Tovardius responded.