In early 2010 I was invited to participate in the Observer and the Observed Project conducted by the Sarasota Partnership for Children’s Mental Health. The SPCMH is a grant-funded organization of psychologists and mental care workers. Its clients (I hesitate to say “patients”) are families whose kids receive treatment for emotional and behaviorial issues. My task was to paint a portrait of such a family. Four families had offered themselves up to 16 artists. Each family was depicted by four artists.

It all started with an introductory meeting between the organizers and artists. A week later there was another get-together. This time the families were present. Now if I may point out, artists do not exactly enjoy a reputation for levelheadedness. Nor do psychologists, ironically. Along with the “ailing” families, you might say it was quite a freaky combination. So what were we all doing in the same room? Presumably observing and being observed. What’s more, our interactions were being documented by a videographer as well as a still photographer. After the mixer, I was asked which family I would like to paint. The families, in turn, indicated their preferred artists. Eventually I was matched with my family of choice and we scheduled a meeting at their home, during which I would photograph them. For the sake of time and privacy I wanted to work from photos instead of life.

I’ve painted hundreds of psychological portraits, but not necessarily from a pathological viewpoint. I’m not a diagnostician but merely an artist, although with a sharp eye. Nevertheless, when I met my family again at their home, I still couldn’t tell which of the two kids was the “afflicted” one. Certainly not both? There were absolutely no obvious abberant signals. Quite on the contrary. The two boys, 7 and 11 years old, appeared intelligent, curious and alert. And the parents seemed exceptionally loving. Why would such a balanced family be involved with the mental health industry? What possible benefits could outweigh the attached stigma? I didn’t want to concern myself with such thoughts. In the end, isn’t all psychology just physiology? Suffering a mental malady should be no more shameful than a stuffy nose. Unfortunately that’s not the sort of society we live in.

As I sat down in the living room, I sensed a faint apprehension. I wasn’t sure if it was toward me or the videographer, who was present yet again. To relieve the tension, I began to share a thing or two about myself and my art. Perhaps to see if I was for real, the younger boy asked to be drawn. I was handed paper and pencil and drew a quick contour sketch of him. The child recognized himself and there was also approval from his father, who had not expected a likeness. Immediately I was handed more paper and was asked to draw his older brother. As I got to work, the younger boy brought some colored pencils and sat down next to me. He started coloring in the sketch I had just made of him. Curiously, he also drew his own outlines on top of mine. If anything, he showed acute signs of creativity. I, too, have this condition.

I did not come to this meeting as a journalist. I did not need to interview my subjects or delve into their private lives in order to paint them more truthfully. I’m an emotional artist and I paint what I feel about people, not what I know about them. It’s a quicker and less intrusive approach to portraiture and the results, it may be argued, are much more unbiased. For all my emphasis on emotionality though, I have a rational side as well. Besides gathering impressions, I also wanted to collect some hard, empirical data. I needed visual information about my subjects. So I broke out my digital camera and we started our photo session. I took about 80 snapshots, both individual and group poses. Most were humorous but quite a few were earnest. A broad range of expressions was covered and I left feeling the meeting had gone well.

Later on my computer, I selected the shots I found most telling. I digitally assembled them into a montage, incorporating a head here, an interlocking arm there and so forth. Eventually I arrived at a group composition that suggested unity and stability, playfulness and respect. Using this reference, I went to work on my canvas, visually approximating each person’s features with outlines and then infusing the remaining brushwork with my emotions. In the end I achieved a composite picture of what I saw, felt and remembered: a harmonious and intact family unit