"The Magic of Art That Really Isn't, But Is..."

What's left!

 When I fly, I usually stare out from the window seat into the confusion of our earthbound world until the clouds obscure my view. I must have been a bird in my other life... and probably got sucked into a jet engine, then poof... Ben Bensen III.

Well, it's one way to look at being born, right?

On this trip, en route from Houston to Los Angeles, I pulled out my torn, tattered and well-traveled sketchbook and began to draw. Seated fairly way back in the aircraft, I scanned the seats to see what I could get interested enough to draw. In front of me about two rows up was a pretty scuzzy and wasted roustabout. He'd awaken, and changed his "pose" in the seat and I'd have to start all over again. So eventually I looked for additional subjects and decided to sketch two of the flight attendants.

The male, was a long, lanky African American with a high cheek bone and a rather angular face. I thought I captured him in three different poses quite well given it was a three hour flight. The other flight attendant was a dark- eyed, bespeckled, young woman with beautiful skin and a smile that could tell some stories, I'm sure.

I guess I was sort of "smittened" because I just couldn't make her look as good as I imagined. When  she saw me alternating from one "sleepy-eyed oil rigger" to the male flight attendant, she asked...

"Are you an artist?" I replied in the affirmative as she rather awkwardly passed to me another cup of coffee and smiled.

"Do you work in Hollywood?"

"I used to," I said. "I'm going to LA to document Air Force life at March, AFB in Riverside!" I enjoy drawing aircraft," I continued.

"That's nice,"she said, as she noticed my improving sketch of the roustabout dozing. "People who can draw like that... well, it is just "magical."

"I guess," I replied rather sheepishly.

As she continued further up the aisle to the front of the plane, I returned to my sketch of her, but still didn't feel good about capturing the real her.

An hour passed and I was intensely involved in drawing her to my liking, having sufficiently sketched my other two subjects. On further observation, she had a goofy, Marlo Thomas thing going for her like she hadn't yet succeeded in gracefully walking in high heels.

It wasn't a bumpy ride to SoCal, so I assumed it was just her but with her personality, it all seemed quite endearing.

Somehow, while I was absorbed, she got behind me without me seeing her. I was a few rows behind one of the restrooms and occasionally one or two patrons waiting their turn, would check out my progress.