Can You Erase My Double Chin?

From Martha To Moussaoui, Courtroom Artists Capture High Drama And Big Egos

(CBS) 

Unflattering looks may also be a product of a sketch artist's frantic pace. Depending on the deadline (TV stations demand sketches every hour or so) and a trial’s length (an arraignment can take just 60 seconds), courtroom artists speed-sketch. If a key witness makes a fleeting appearance, artists must get creative: Verkouteren says she has used the courtroom bathroom as a "studio" to finish some sketches during the Moussaoui trial.

Still, American courtroom artists may have it easy compared to their British counterparts: U.K. law prohibits drawing in the courtroom, so artists have to sketch from memory. British artist Elizabeth Cook has sketched courtroom figures as diverse as Elton John, General Pinochet and the Spice Girls. She says she studies a subject's forehead length, distance between the nose and top lip and jaw width before she goes off to sketch.

"It's a process that only takes seconds," she says. "I carry that visual image in my mind and try to get drawing as quickly as possible."

For courtroom artists, the only thing tighter than the deadlines is the work conditions. Artists sketch in a space about the size of a movie theater seat and usually sit right behind the defendant, straining to catch meaningful expressions.

"You're just hoping he turns sideways and talks to his lawyer," Church says.

Courtroom artists are a hot commodity in states that don’t allow cameras (currently seven don't, including New York) as well as all federal trials at which photography is forbidden. Today's artists can thank the overbearing press coverage during the 1937 trial of Charles Lindbergh's kidnapped son — that's why cameras originally were banned from courtrooms.

Church and Behringer concede that television and photography may allow for more openness, but they also point out that lawyers are more prone to play to the camera. They also argue that trial coverage would be at the mercy of sound bite-hungry network editors — not charcoal pencils and watercolors.

"It protects the defendants more," says Church, who this month published "The Art Of Justice," a compilation of more than 100 of her courtroom sketches.

Sitting and sketching nonstop in a trial can be draining. Verkouteren says she loves the gig but needs the balance of her other art, which is drawing caricatures. Church calls the competition in New York, which has evolved into more of a freelancer's market, a "feeding frenzy" and only goes to trials to which she's assigned.

Behringer says the job can take a toll emotionally. The California artist says that early in her career, she sketched a particularly wrenching murder trial and found herself tearing up. But after the Scott Peterson trial, Behringer realized her emotions had taken a back seat to her art.

"The reporters were crying, Laci's mom was so emotional and yelling at Scott. … the jurors were crying," she recalls. "I think I was the only one in the courtroom not crying."