White Board vs. Drawing Board

The drawing of the young chimpanzee on the table is finished for now. I’m never sure but I like the quiet of his pose, his gaze. The charcoal smudges like remnants of an activity he finished seconds before. I can imagine him like this, sitting in the hallway of the Aeromedical Research Laboratory in 1961 after a day of zero-g flight in a Air Force C-131, at ease with a young airman caretaker. Training in the “vomit comet,” like the 7 human astronauts of Project Mercury would do.

The history of the Mercury Chimpanzee Program is right in front of me. Literally. Places, dates, names of people and chimps are captured on a large white board on my studio wall. This “story detective board” — full of words for a history I know well by now — is more than a place holder. It’s a place to see connections.

But when I make a picture on my drawing board, the words on the white board are beyond my gaze. As I draw, I’m imagining a moment in between the lines of this history. I’m feeling my way towards the story.

I think if I make this picture this way — in the presence of history but with it slightly out of focus — I’ll understand a little better this particular chimpanzee.