Cops and Robbers
I attempted to catch a mugger Tuesday night. Probably not the smartest thing to do at the moment.
It was another typical night for me Tuesday. Another session with the Drawing Group. The atmosphere was a tad bit different that night though. No one had bothered to bring any music. The model didn't even show up. One of the group members volunteered to pose though. Always interesting when that happens. Well, during our second pose of the night, we heard screaming downstairs. It's not uncommon to hear a lot of interesting sounds below our studio space. That part of Granby Street always has some interesting characters hovering around the area. That night though, we heard screams for help. One of the female members suggested that we should figure out what was going on. So, a handful of us went downstairs. I managed to lead the small group. Across the street, you could see two men pushing against each other. Not the typical image of what you would think a mugging looks like. For a second, I thought they were participating in some kind of sexual experience. I believe the female member was thinking the same thing. We crossed the street though, and the old man yelled that he was being mugged. The alleged mugger actually claimed that he wasn't mugging him, and then he continued to push against the old man. That's when all of us sprinted towards the two men. I wasn't thinking at all. It was a reaction to the moment. I didn't think about my grafted leg. I didn't think about my other leg. I didn't think about my active muscle disease. I was ahead of everyone, and the mugger chose to run when he saw me approaching him. It didn't take long for my grafted leg to give out on me though. The reality of my life. One of the guys from the group continued to chase him, but I didn't expect him to catch him. He came downstairs with a pool stick apparently though, and attempted to throw the stick at the mugger. The mugger would drop his coat, and eventually run off as he dodged the stick.
My cell phone flew off my belt while I was running, and the female member was on my cell with 911 as I limped back towards the scene of the crime. My body was in so much pain. The tendons around my grafted thighbone were shooting pain. My muscles throughout my back and chest felt like they were going to explode. Why didn't I think this out? I know I may look like I'm healthy, but I'm far from being healthy. Especially lately. If anything, I should know better then to chase a mugger. I live in the hood, and I know how things are. How desperate people become when they're on drugs or living in poverty. What was I going to do if I had caught him? I would've handled him easily before my illness and surgery.
It didn't take long for the cops to approach the scene. They took some statements, but you could see that they knew they wouldn't catch the guy. With all these visual artists chasing the mugger, we couldn't give a good description. The old man didn't do any better, and the cops allowed us to return to the group without taking our names and info. We would learn that the mugger managed to get away with the old mans wallet while he waited for the bus. Off and on, you could see our group organizer taking photos of us from the studio window. Just another night in Norfolk.
Returning to the studio, I could barely make it up the stairs. I didn't even feel like drawing, once I made it up the stairs. I managed to complete one 20 minute study, and the typical gesture studies for the whole night. Not a good session for me at all.
I'm still sore days later after the incident. My body has been sluggish, and I haven's been able to stay up late. I don't think I damaged my grafted leg, but I feel horrible still.
11x14. Photographed by the group organizer.
It was another typical night for me Tuesday. Another session with the Drawing Group. The atmosphere was a tad bit different that night though. No one had bothered to bring any music. The model didn't even show up. One of the group members volunteered to pose though. Always interesting when that happens. Well, during our second pose of the night, we heard screaming downstairs. It's not uncommon to hear a lot of interesting sounds below our studio space. That part of Granby Street always has some interesting characters hovering around the area. That night though, we heard screams for help. One of the female members suggested that we should figure out what was going on. So, a handful of us went downstairs. I managed to lead the small group. Across the street, you could see two men pushing against each other. Not the typical image of what you would think a mugging looks like. For a second, I thought they were participating in some kind of sexual experience. I believe the female member was thinking the same thing. We crossed the street though, and the old man yelled that he was being mugged. The alleged mugger actually claimed that he wasn't mugging him, and then he continued to push against the old man. That's when all of us sprinted towards the two men. I wasn't thinking at all. It was a reaction to the moment. I didn't think about my grafted leg. I didn't think about my other leg. I didn't think about my active muscle disease. I was ahead of everyone, and the mugger chose to run when he saw me approaching him. It didn't take long for my grafted leg to give out on me though. The reality of my life. One of the guys from the group continued to chase him, but I didn't expect him to catch him. He came downstairs with a pool stick apparently though, and attempted to throw the stick at the mugger. The mugger would drop his coat, and eventually run off as he dodged the stick.
My cell phone flew off my belt while I was running, and the female member was on my cell with 911 as I limped back towards the scene of the crime. My body was in so much pain. The tendons around my grafted thighbone were shooting pain. My muscles throughout my back and chest felt like they were going to explode. Why didn't I think this out? I know I may look like I'm healthy, but I'm far from being healthy. Especially lately. If anything, I should know better then to chase a mugger. I live in the hood, and I know how things are. How desperate people become when they're on drugs or living in poverty. What was I going to do if I had caught him? I would've handled him easily before my illness and surgery.
It didn't take long for the cops to approach the scene. They took some statements, but you could see that they knew they wouldn't catch the guy. With all these visual artists chasing the mugger, we couldn't give a good description. The old man didn't do any better, and the cops allowed us to return to the group without taking our names and info. We would learn that the mugger managed to get away with the old mans wallet while he waited for the bus. Off and on, you could see our group organizer taking photos of us from the studio window. Just another night in Norfolk.
Returning to the studio, I could barely make it up the stairs. I didn't even feel like drawing, once I made it up the stairs. I managed to complete one 20 minute study, and the typical gesture studies for the whole night. Not a good session for me at all.
I'm still sore days later after the incident. My body has been sluggish, and I haven's been able to stay up late. I don't think I damaged my grafted leg, but I feel horrible still.
11x14. Photographed by the group organizer.