Literally. Today there’s a cover story in the Los Angeles Times about my neighbor and friend, Ed Velandria. Reporter Erica Hayasaki, a staff writer for the LA Times, who lives in Brooklyn, discovered Ed in a story on OTBKB. She wrote and asked how to get in touch with this man who draws on the F-train. I was thrilled to hear that she wanted to bring the story of Ed to her readers in LA. Here’s an excerpt. To see more of his pictures go to Ed Velandria’s Flickr site.
By Erika Hayasaki, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
The F train howls to a stop, and the subway sketcher boards a front car, its windows clouded with white spray paint, its benches filled with characters. Ed Velandria takes a seat, pulling a computer tablet and touch pen from his black backpack.
He skims the crowd as he listens to Coolio’s “Gangsta’s Paradise” through his iPhone earbuds. Velandria has 20 minutes to draw on this ride from Brooklyn to Manhattan, and he is searching for his next muse.
Tall, dark-haired and unassuming, Velandria is a corporate graphics guy with a family and a brownstone in Brooklyn. He drew his first illustration in third grade — a pumpkin. The moment marked his love for drawing, but for more than a decade he rarely did it for enjoyment. His career got the best of him; his creativity slipped away.
Two years ago, he bought a computerized painting tablet on Craigslist and carted it along on his ride to and from work, sketching people he found interesting. The tablet is the size of a thin phone book, and its touch pen simulates dozens of brushes and pencils, blending colors with thick and thin strokes directly onto the computer screen. He uploaded YouTube instructional illustration videos on his iPhone and studied them on breaks.
He found Flickr, a Web community for image collections, and posted his . Fans found him and sent messages or posted his drawings on their blogs. He came across subway sketchers from Toronto, Berlin, Paris. They formed an online family, commenting on each other’s work.
Just like that, Velandria, 45, found his creative self again. Subway sketching in the modern technology world became his therapy, and his obsession.
On the F train just after 10 a.m., five deaf teenage boys speak in sign language, and a chubby man in a yarmulke and Navy blazer stares. Two middle-aged Asian women sit across the aisle. One has a marble-sized mole on her chin, and the other tilts her head back at an awkward angle, her eyes closed. Velandria fixates on the sleeping woman, and his right hand dances across his tablet. The song in his ear changes to Jewel’s “Who Will Save Your Soul.”
The deaf boys notice and hover behind Velandria in fascination, signing rapidly to each other. The man in the yarmulke rises from his seat and leans over Velandria’s shoulder, watching the swirls of yellow, green and gray fuse into the contours of the woman’s face. The train stops, and a man in a striped Adidas shirt and khaki slacks gets on. “Good morning ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention please?” he announces, walking slowly down the aisle. “If anyone on this train could spare any change, please help me out with a dollar, a dime, even a penny.”
The sleeping woman wakes up and gets off a few minutes later, unaware that she has become a work of art soon to be displayed to the world online. The man in the yarmulke takes her seat, as if waiting for Velandria to draw his portrait next. Velandria settles instead on a shaggy-haired young man holding an iced coffee and reading Esquire.
The train stops at Broadway and Lafayette in Soho, and Velandria packs up his tablet with its two nearly complete portraits.
“That’s what’s enjoyable,” he says, once outside the station. “You don’t know how long they will stay. You don’t know if they will get pissed off..
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