The Drawing and the Image

I'm drawing in the Museum of Zoology. A tourist walks around taking pictures. Every few seconds, regularly, I can hear the beep of his digital camera: beep... an image, beep... an image, beep... an image. In just a few minutes, he takes many pictures, hundreds of images. It's the third day that I'm working on the same drawing and, although little by little a recognisable image has appeared, I'm very aware of how alien from my experience (my idea) of the subject my drawing is.

(Today, in the Museum of Zoology, I noticed, on the floor, the residue of my erasing of yesterday. Most of my drawing is on the floor and soon it will be swept away.)

As I draw, curious people have a look at what I'm doing. If they see a recognisable image, they sometimes make a positive remark. The image could be an actual object as, for instance, the skeleton of an animal or, if they are educated in art, a style, for instance, the drawing may look Giacometti-like. Whatever the case may be, if they see an image, the drawing is transparent (but, also invisible) and intelligible: they possess it. Beep... an image, beep... an image. The tourist leaves reassured by the thought of the booty in his camera.