Lenny is a tall for his age two-year old. The only time that he really settles down is when he stands to eat some ice cream but he trots off between spoonfuls so my sketch is as much reconstruction as observation.
Would he recognise himself?
‘Who’s that?’ asks his mum, showing him my sketch.
‘Lenny’, he replies immediately.
Florence, Lenny’s younger sister, is still too young to form such a clear sense of self. Her mum tell’s us that there’s a theory that a young baby doesn’t conceive that there is a separation between itself and its mother.
Facial recognition is something that humans are good at from an early age but we can be a bit too keen to spot faces. An etcher I know asks her friends to check her proofs for any rogue faces that might have popped up in her foliage, stonework and clouds before she commits to printing the finished version.
I can even spot a face in Barbara’s homemade mince pies . . .
. . . these two crusty old characters remind me of Statler and Waldorf on The Muppet Show.