I had kept a sketchbook, lugging it from class to class in high school but the habit had lapsed when I acquired other duties and things to carry and ran out of hands for the sketchbook. It dawned on me that I missed the process. So a few years ago I picked up the technical pens and pen and ink I had used for the earlier sketchbooks and creaked open the cover of a new book - not knowing what direction it would take.
decided only one thing, to begin with: that I would continue working on
each spread until it expressed a unified thought or theme - no matter
how obscure. New pages were unnerving, at first. A sweep of
line would break the page and then - ? I began to approach each page
with the same general thought: Now let's see... and I was hooked.
began to feel pulled by a work in progress, left on the table, pen
beside the open book. Whatever the mind was chewing over, seems that
was somehow being digested on paper. I began to savour the way a
drawing developed slowly, dragging thoughts with it, developing a mental
space internally as the drawing emerged on paper over days and weeks.
Some drawings didn't seem worthy of further work - a doodle, the moment,
not needing digesting or developing. Others were left unfinished for
days or months - I had no idea what to do next with them - and may be in
that state today, still waiting. Others, when I flipped open a page,
suddenly I could see just what was needed next - and the pull returned.
I'll post them in the order that they appear
in the sketchbooks, but undated - as they have grown over a hopscotch
of timelines, some images surging to the page in a rush of hours drawn
from a busy life in the course of a few days, others developing almost
despite me, across years.
I enjoy comments and questions and look forward to hearing from you