Angela

 

Oil On Canvas. 16" x 20" Collection of Phuong Tran

There is a unique way that sunlight hits the pavement under a freeway overpass. Or maybe it just appears unique to my eyes. Walking under a multilane freeway is a bit like walking through a tunnel. The atmosphere is dark, so your eyes have to adjust to the momentary change in light. But unlike a tunnel, a freeway overpass has gaps. I first saw Angela when I was walking underneath one of those gaps. As I was walking toward her, the light from above was illuminating her face in the way you see here. The moment was so striking I asked if I could take her picture. She was hesitant, but I told her I was an artist and that she had a nice face. She laughed and agreed. 

After I took my third photo, an angry voice from across the street yelled, “Angela!” She immediately looked down at the ground and whispered, “I’m sorry, I have to go.” The man she ran to pushed her inside of a tent and angrily kicked a liter of Dad’s Root Beer towards me. I only saw her in my neighborhood a handful of times after our first encounter. Sometimes she would say “hello” with a smile or a wave. Other times I could sense that acknowledging me would bring her unwanted aggression or harm from the men surrounding her. I think about her every time I walk under that particular freeway. I wonder if she would enjoy the painting I made of her.