Sad Eyes (Part 2)

In Sad Eyes (Part 1) I talked about the fascinating process of having a portrait of oneself done in oils.

But Hynek Martinec, the brilliant young portrait artist who produced the majectic "Five Masters, Three Wardens and the Clerk" had one more request of us sitters. As explained in the book published by DegreeArt.com, that accompanies the painting "During the process, each sitter was asked to provide 140 characters, Twitter style, to adorn their painting."

(By the way, if you want to discover the best of the best of the next generation of artists, take a look at DegreeArt.com website. They find, display and sell the finest artworks by students and recent grads from the UK's most prestigeous art establishments).

We were not given any firm instructions on what our 140 characters should say. The only guidance was that in a 100 years time, when future generations are looking at your portrait and notice the 140 characters on the side of the painting, what do you want it to say about you? City portraits hang on Livery Hall walls literally for hundreds of years. I know of a Hall that has a portrait of Dick Whittington, who I used to assume was a fictional, pantomime character but it turns out he was a very real person and his portrait is there staring down at you hundreds of years later!.

So, this was a very real challenge. In several hundred years time, people might actually look at my portrait and wonder "who the hell is that guy?" How do I define myself in 140 characters. Well, it took me several weeks and lots of crossing-out but eventually here's what I wrote:

Tom Ilube DTech (Hon) MBA FRSA - Founding Chairman Hammersmith Academy - Technologist, Educator - Mr Bojangles "Talked of Life. Laughed"

How did I get to this? Let's break it down.

Tom Ilube - Actually my name is Thomas Ilube but I am know as Tom by practically everyone. My father has been known to call me Thomas. My grandmum called me Tommy. To everyone else I am Tom. So Tom it is.

DTech (Hon) - a few years ago I was awarded an honorary Doctorate of Technology. My big sister snorted, saying "is that one of those silly degrees you don't have to do any work for?" (I think she was teasing!). I decided to use it here as a shorthand way of saying "I've worked in technology for years and years".

MBA - having put in a shorthand for my technology career I then decided to use my MBA as shorthand for my business career.

FRSA - this stands for Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts. I really like the RSA and use the RSA House quite often when I am in London and need to meet someone or stop for a coffee. I have spoken there, hosted events there and had many important and enlightening meetings in the cafe down in the basement.I think as one of life's outsiders, being invited (elected?) to Fellowship felt like being accepted into a large and interesting gathering of friends.

Founding Chairman Hammersmith Academy - in 2005 I proposed the idea of creating a new secondary school and six years later we opened the doors of Hammersmith Academy. I led the project from the back of a napkin in a north London coffee shop to one of the most amazing schools in London. It was very tough at times but I am very proud of having done this.

Technologist, Educator - my career has been in technology, from my days as an Assembler programme at British Airways to the companies I have created. I am a Technologist. But I am also an educator. For the past decade I have been a Governors of four schools, created one from scratch and founded an African education charity. Education will play an increasing role as life goes on. I am an Educator.

Mr Bojangles "Talked of Life. Laughed" - surely you know me well enough by now to know that I am Mr Bojangles. I talk of life. And laugh. With sad eyes.

So, who are you, in 140 characters?

Sad Eyes (Part I)

Having your portrait painted is a fascinating and thought provoking experience.

Two years ago, I was asked to sit for a portrait as part of a painting to be hung in a City Livery Hall. For some reason I felt unsure about this but the person who requested it is very persuasive so resistance was futile. I sat where I was told to sit.

And I am really glad that I did.

The process that Hynek Martinec the incredible artist followed was very interesting. It took two years from start to finish. It started with a photograpy session that lasted about an hour. I started off wearing my suit and tie and loking very formal. He took a few snaps. Then he asked if I would mind loosening my tie a little and undoing my top button. So I did. "Good, good" he said as he snapped away. I felt like a model and began to "work it" a bit.

Then he said he wanted to try something. His assistants smiled and nodded enthusiastically. He flipped my loosened tie over one shoulder. "That's great" they all said and I felt a warm glow as I saw myself on a future edition of "The CIty's Next Top Model". Would I mind taking my jacket off? That's fine. Snap, snap. Lovely. Perfect. Can we undo just one more button? Sure! Snap, snap, snap. Smile. Smile. Let me just take your glasses and balance them at a jaunty angle across your nose. Go right ahead my good man. I'm a Top Model don't you know. This is the sort of  thing a Top Model does. I think.

I can see how a Top Model like me could easily have ended up in his underwear, drapped across the meeting room table. I was putty in the hands of the man with the camera. But fortunately he had got the photographs he needed so he left me to gather up my clothes (okay, put my jacket back on).

We shook hands and that was that. I did wonder why he didn't just take one of the photos, blow it up, frame it and that's job done. Surely a portrait is a portrait whether it is an oil painting or a photo.

18 months later when I saw a near-finished work in progress I started to understand the difference.

One evening, we were invited to a little workshop tucked away down a long anonymous corridor in a high, grey building in the heart of Brixton. I walked in to the room, glanced at the wall and did a double take. There I was on the wall looking right back at me, through sad eyes.

The experience of looking at an oil painting of myself, painted by a brilliant artist such as Hynek Martinec is so different from anything else I have experienced. I have seen photos of myself, holiday snaps, professional photos. I once gave a speech at London's Imax centre and behind me on a screen was what looked like a 30 foot picture of my own head looking down at me. I've watched myself being interviewed on TV (cringing behind the sofa). I've laughed, through gritted teeth, at cartoon caricatures of my long neck and big ears.

But it appears that when an artist of this calibre paints you in oil, he looks into your soul. Or perhaps he invites you to look into your own soul. It's not like looking in a mirror. It's a different experience. The Tom in the painting is looking at me, trying to tell me something. Trying to warn me about something. The Tom on the wall knows me. He sees me from the inside out.

As I stood in the little workshop, communicating with Tom-on-the-wall, I felt profoundly sad. And also in awe of the artist who had created this amazing work. How can someone have so much skill? Not just the technical skill to reproduce an image so precisely but the ability to invite you, the sitter, to have a deep conversation with yourself.