A knock on the studio door is rare enough. I was expecting it actually, but I had become quite engrossed in a knotty problem, (something to do with using only black and white to express the colour orange), so it still came at me like a spiderweb in the dark.

I composed myself and checked my teeth for bits of chewed almond. First impressions do matter. Kathoir has been quite diligent in securing portraiture work for me and this one was all paid for, up front. Nice.

As I opened the door I heard a car scape its belly on the eroded driveway and then a panicked squeal from the tyres as it achieved full traction on the road. And it was gone, back the way it had come (there is only one way in). They were in a hurry.

“They were in a hurry.” I said, to fill up the space.

“They is just Mum” said one.

“She probably just doesn’t want to talk” said the other

I looked at the girls for the first time. They were the same. Different hats but essentially the same. Same four blue eyes.

“Well, come on in, girls”.

I wasn’t too worried about not discussing the girls portraits with their chatty Mother. It’s a silly game anyway. I’m just going to paint them how I do. I’m going to do it in black and white. That’s my schtick. Dorian Grey Portraiture. That’s what it says on my card.

Black, white and everything in between.

The only thing I was worried about was that we hadn’t made a pick-up time. An hour or so is really all that I need. Well, five minutes really. I just snap a few photos and there you have it. Essence and soul of particular human subject recorded. Take paint brush and add signature style later. I have told Kathy to communicate to the customers to bring along something that “means” something to them personally. So that I can add that to the work for extra psychological depth. Or wear their favourite outfit. I guess the twins brought each other.

I was a bit surprised to be entrusted with duty of care. I mean, it’s 2015. Doesn’t she know we are all paedophiles now? Only joking. It’s you with wrong thinking. Not me.

“Wow! This is an amazing space!”said one of them.

“Yes, thank you. Now, sit yourselves on that chair over there and act natural”.

What’s your name?

“Beatrycze”

and yours

“Agnieszka”

“I guess you got lucky there, didn’t you Agnieszka? And how old are you? No smiling please when I’m taking photos. Just try to look blank.”(I learnt that trick from Dianne Arbus.)

“Eleven.”

“And you?”

“We’re twins.”she said deadpanishly.

That was my cue to work in silence for a bit.

A few different angles and some lighting variations later…

“All you did was take photos. I thought you were an artist. Aren’t you going to draw us and capture our unique personalities?”

I had to admit that it sounded like a reasonable approach so I made a few incisive pencil sketches which were quite free and a bit humorous. The girls clearly didn’t like them.

“Are you going to use paints now?”

I appreciate inquisitive children, but having spent much of my life as a teacher I have learnt to ignore them.

“Would you like a coffee or something while you’re waiting?”

“We don’t drink coffee.”

“What about you?” I said, not wanting to let the bossy one answer for the other

“She just told you we don’t drink coffee. Have you got anything else?”

The phone rang serendipitously.

“Hello. Dorian Grey Portraiture. Stephen here……Oh hello!……uh huh.. Do you mean because the genre of portraiture has been a staple of Western art practice since the 16th century?… yes… no… I certainly wouldn’t be the first to disagree or even the last to agree that it’s irrelevant .. no… What’s that you say – the advent of non-figurative and non-objective art forms? … I really couldn’t say…. persona?…social what? Well actually I don’t know much about notions of national identity. Reflections….yes.. yes.. of course… no …Well, yes possibly….celebrity, uh huh… new media technologies….virtual environments… I think I see what you’re saying…..Archibald?….Doug Moran….

alright then… I’m sorry but I have to go now.

The conversation ended even more serendipitously than it had begun. I placed the handset back in it’s cradle and registered the silence. The twins were gone and I heard a skittish car take off and fade down the road. Probably Mum.