The personality
Jafar was part of my life for nearly 15 years. He was a rescue bird, already an adult when I adopted him, and although I never knew his exact age, I believe he was around 20 when he passed away in 2015.
From the very beginning, Jafar was unforgettable—a little feathered whirlwind of charm and mischief, with a personality far larger than his size. He whistled tunes with remarkable precision, tore up papers with endless determination, and had a special talent for chewing through cables—often at the expense of the electronic devices I worked on.
But alongside the chaos, he carried an immense capacity for affection. He loved to perch on my laptop screen as I worked, watching me with curious eyes, almost as if he was part of the process. He adored noise, music, the buzz of conversation, and the company of guests—always demanding to be the center of attention.
Jafar was also wonderfully stubborn. If I scolded him, he would sulk and deliberately avoid me for days, his grumpy pride on full display. Yet, once the storm passed, he returned with warmth, forgiveness, and love that only deepened our bond. He was a paradox of fiery spirit and tender heart—and I miss him dearly every single day.
Inspiration
My way of honoring Jafar was to create this portrait—a humble attempt to capture the spirit and personality that made him so special. Art became my way of working through the grief, of transforming loss into memory, and memory into something lasting. In drawing him, I wasn’t just recording his likeness; I was keeping a part of him alive.
Idea
I have always carried a quiet ritual when it comes to art: I rarely paint or draw the beings I love while they are alive. For me, the act of creating is less about depiction and more about remembrance—a way of honoring them once they are gone.
Every missed moment, every second not spent together, becomes a kind of debt I feel I owe them. My portraits are my way of repaying that debt, a tribute to the companionship they gave so freely. In Jafar’s case, it became a way to ensure that his mischievous, loving presence would never fade, no matter how much time passes.
Technique
For this portrait, I used mixed media: the red patch brought to life with Faber-Castell Albrecht Dürer watercolor pencils, and the rest with the trusted Faber-Castell 9000 graphite pencil set. The work was done on Fabriano Sketch 90g/m²—simple, delicate paper that carried each mark like a memory etched in time.
Personal Stance
This artwork is deeply personal. It embodies affection, care, and the companionship I shared with Jafar. More than a portrait, it is a testament to love, patience, and the quiet beauty found in everyday bonds. Through it, I see not only his feathers and form but the joy, laughter, and even frustration he brought into my life—proof that love is often messy, loud, and beautifully imperfect.
Anecdote
Jafar’s mischievous side was endless, but one memory stands out vividly. I once bought a Nokia N900, a quirky little Linux-based smartphone, which had a faulty digitizer. With steady hands, I disassembled it, carefully preparing to replace the part. But in those few moments of my distraction, Jafar saw an opportunity. He waddled over, eyes gleaming with curiosity, and promptly sank his beak into the delicate flex cable—shredding it beyond repair.
At first, I was furious. My hard work, my excitement for the device, ruined in seconds! But then I looked at him—proud, mischievous, unbothered—and I realized this was simply Jafar being Jafar. That mix of curiosity and chaos was the essence of who he was. I couldn’t stay angry. Instead, I burst out laughing, grateful once again for the joy, unpredictability, and little bits of mayhem he brought into my world.