Art of the Courthouse at Intermission
Eight Sketches and One Question That Hangs in the Air
This trial is well past the halfway mark. The prosecution rested last week and the defense had several days of witnesses in U.S. v. Thao, et al. (St. Paul, MN), thus I was busier with court drawing than what I had shared in last week’s column.
I now alternate between sketching in the courtroom and sketching in the media room, watching the proceedings via TV. The latter is troublesome because so often one is sketching the backsides of attorneys, who face a witness on one side and jurors on the other.
I do get lucky occasionally: first, I start a sketch in front of the TV monitor (where all parties directly face the videocam), then, I get to “graduate” to in-court sketching later in the day, with the same witness giving testimony. Unsurprisingly drawing from different angles might better yield the “whole person,” visually that is. (My hope, probably unattainable, is to integrate many views into one.)
As a court artist I have implicit permission to sketch all who are in the building. And I do. I also chat with a variety of folks while I am coming, going, in the elevator, or on a break: U.S. marshals, journalists, members of the public, etc. On a recent Friday I asked one “elevator occupant” a gent — who is the oldest defense attorney present: “TGIF?” His response was, “Every Friday — for years now.”
Being argumentative
Objection!
Recently one journalist and I agreed that there had been more objections that day than ever, “being argumentative” as the most frequent. At day’s end, the judge looked dissatisfied. I reasoned that he is the one person in the courtroom who is most obligated to “take the perspective of the jury members,” so if he is dissatisfied then so are some jurors.
Poolside
Everyone in or near a courtroom is some kind of specialist, many being journalists. A journalist’s job is to try to transcribe everything that happens. You see them constantly typing on their phones, laptops, etc. One entrepreneurial journalist scouted a spot outside the media room so she could give dictation into her smartphone. It turns out some journalists’ disfavor actually being in the courtroom, as it is cramped and there is no wi-fi due to security. The media room — let’s call it poolside as they share notes by way of a Google Pool Group — has tables, wi-fi, and its own restroom nearby. Quiet conversation is permitted.
On a recent day, I heard reporters from the Minneapolis Star Tribune, Reuters, New York Times, and other news agencies vigorously debate their “take” on perceived “best practices” (and “not-best”) and motives of all court case “stakeholders.” The lively conversation got louder and other poolroom folks looked up by this disturbance to the former quietude. The challenge to journalists is to work hard in order to distill a day’s worth of testimony into a short article and/or broadcast to be quickly dispatched. Once distilled most of those pages of transcription simply disappear into a final draft that is rushed to its media outlet.
Street protests
There have been none outside the Burger Courthouse in St. Paul and few elsewhere in the Twin Cities. Social justice activists in the Twin Cities are sometimes “smartly surgical.” An example is Communities United Against Police Brutality (CUAPB). Its clever venue recently was an evening vigil outside a local police training facility. (Trainers like those at this kind of facility had given testimony at the trial about how well — and/or poorly — the Minneapolis police academy instruction had been for the three accused officers.)
Intermission
This week there was a loss of a precious court day that was then — recaptured. (It was a kind of intermission — “interval between the parts of an entertainment” — but certainly minus the entertainment part.) Earl Gray, attorney for defendant Thomas Lane, was due in a State of Minnesota courtroom for the sentencing of Kim Potter, another case of his, on Friday, February 18. Judge Magnuson was compelled to suspend the trial for that day but then decided to reconvene on the following Monday, a public holiday. Given my small talk with marshals (who frankly, rarely talk) I learned they’ll get double-overtime on President’s Day.
Results
Old tools, new eyes
In a recent column I mentioned I would write about the fine-art techniques in my court sketching. A final court sketch I featured was bright hues atop jet sanded black paperstock. I continue to use only analog (“old”) media, for example, white charcoal and oil pastels atop such toned surfaces, to achieve something called chiaroscuro or tenebrism. For months now I have wanted to look at my St. Paul courtroom with new eyes: in various ways, how does black matter? Tenebrism provides a light-struck look with bright hues that Rembrandt utilized in many paintings, his Night Watch, for example:
Feedback
I’m no Rembrandt so I pay attention to feedback. An accomplished nonfiction writer — and former high school classmate — had remarked that he felt my black-toned backgrounds gave my sketches depth. Another former classmate — from graduate school — said toned paper is a good way to indicate “air,” meaning one does not then have to actually “draw” air. This remark felt to me very near to a metaphor, as a kind of artistic “free air” akin to what service stations sometimes provide. Black matters— in so many ways — in my case if and when I seek visual drama. Gray too, it’s “very good air,” being halfway between black (heavy air) and white (no air, so a sketcher would have to “work it in”).
Small sketches
As I digitized my graphite sketches I recently started to collect a few small sketch pages onto a single digital broadsheet — with pagination of up to a half dozen total — without any color. My holistic intent with these was to capture the “look/feel“ of being on site, then possibly to use them later when I needed to finish a drawing.
I close this court intermission with a question, one that nags or “hangs in the air”
Recall that I just offered thoughts on how to “depict air” in sketches, black gray, etc. But something else continues to “hang in the air,” a question: I believe it is one that must also nag jurors. Being rhetorical, it might elicit a response but has no real answer — yet:
What are the implications if three officers had lost their humanity for nine minutes?
Next: it’s President’s Day today, a final phase to this trial starts to beckon
Acknowledgement: Editing assistance courtesy Kathy Heuer. Errors that might remain are mine and mine alone.
J. Kevin Byrne (MA/Minnesota, MFA/Cranbrook, MSc-Cert./Saint Mary’s) is Professor (now Emeritus) at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design (MN/USA). He has published in print and continues to do so online. Feel free to Link-in to him here.
