An elderly man, deep creases in his face, looks straight at the viewer. The brim of his hat shades his forehead. His expression is direct, not betraying his emotions even as one peers into his eyes. In one corner of the portrait is a second image of the man, sitting on a low stool, legs crossed, hand in lap with the same frank, but inscrutable visage. A tiny, hand tied-fishing fly is drawn beneath his collar.
“Johnny is a friend of mine, although most would not guess it,” writes the artist, who goes by the name Idle.
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