Three minutes on the paper

An original literary non-fiction-style account of drawing quick portraits at an informal evening art group.

The organiser put a small sand timer in the middle of the table. We had three minutes to draw the person opposite us, then we would exchange places. I asked whether we could finish a drawing after moving. She said we could keep drawing all evening, but the person would not be sitting there any longer.

I spent the first minute trying to make my subject's eyes match. He asked whether he should smile. I said no, then worried that this sounded unfriendly. By the time I had explained, the organiser was turning the timer over. My paper contained two eyes and the outline of an ear.

The next person had a broad collar and a narrow face. I began with the collar because I could see its shape clearly. Her nose did not quite fit between the lines I had made. I left it where it was and added a strand of hair. When the time ended, she recognised herself and laughed at the collar, which she said was the reason she had bought the shirt.

Later, I sat for someone who drew me without once rubbing anything out. I could see the side of the paper lifting as his pencil moved. When he showed me, one shoulder was too high and my head leaned forward. I started to correct him, then realised that I had been leaning across the table to see his work.

At the end, I put the drawings in order on the floor. None would have passed the private test of accuracy I had brought with me. Yet several contained something I remembered about the person. I took the unfinished pair of eyes home too, as a record of how little I had noticed while trying to get one part right.

Explain how the timed drawing changes the narrator's judgement of a successful portrait.