Picture series weaken the way a brew does when the measure is guessed — a little more, a little less, never twice the same. A frame is made in one week, another a month later, and by the third month the woman in the first frame is a stranger to the woman in the latest one. The cause is rarely the rendering; it is the measuring. She was judged from memory at every job, and memory pours a slightly different measure each time it is asked. A card written once and pasted every time pours the same.
Five lines that never change
Age and build. One number, one build, stated plainly. Hair. Colour, length and the way it is worn. Face. Skin tone, features and expression. Signature. One small repeatable detail. Wardrobe register. The fabrics and cuts the series lives in. Everything else — the hour, the cups, the light on the table — belongs to the line for this sitting, beneath the card.
The habit that holds a series together
Paste the card, pour the sitting, judge the result against the card, and file the scores with the set. It is unglamorous work, and it is the entire difference between a set that reads as one woman and a folder that reads as a crowd.