Portrait artists line the rim of Hoan Kiem Lake on a chilly Sunday morning in early January, with one or two busily sketching passers-by while most have canvases and drawing utensils out, waiting for customers. Ham, a quiet man with a kind face, wearing a charcoal-colored cap, with hands shoved firmly in his pockets to keep warm.
He introduces himself as an artist, who has been in the profession for more than 20 years. Ham sharpens his pencil with a knife and lays out his tools. He then sketches some rough lines, his eyes darting back and forth between me and the canvas. He goes on, musing on the life of an artist. He sketches some more and a set of eyes soon appear on the blank canvas. His right hand moves swiftly and without hesitation, as if his skills have been sharpened by so much practice that the action of drawing becomes more like a casual doodle.
An artist who brags about his artistic talent is never a true artist. I wonder if somebody who considers himself an artist, as Ham obviously does, might think this job beneath them, earning a little here from locals and tourists for a few dollars a pop.
Sure enough, without being prompted Ham tells us about his true calling as an abstract artist. There is nothing good about crafting up art and throwing it outside for people to see.
The chill in the air is making my toes go numb but the portrait is starting to take shape, and I can see a faint reflection of myself on the canvas. Sometimes in the world of abstract art, liking something and understanding it are the same thing. After a little chatting, Ham gradually gets quieter and more absorbed in the portrait, seemingly having entered his own world.
