Three years ago, killing time on a lunch break, I got excited by a little sketch I made that seemed to have a touch of life in it, and I decided right there that I’d try to draw at least a little something every day. And I did. I was super-proud of myself because I’ve often declared the goal of a daily drawing practice, but couldn’t muster the discipline to maintain it.But this time it was easy.
For three years, anyway.
At the start, the sketches were very humble, and if I do anything like them now, I feel like I’m copping out. My standards have shifted. Also, at first, I was very excited to draw and to push my own limits and learn everything! But increasingly over time, it has felt like a chore. It shouldn’t feel that way on a regular basis, which must mean I’m doing it wrong. I’m pleased at the way I’ve regained skills almost to the high level I had in my early 20s, and I’m very afraid to lose that. The loss of skill and the shame of failing at daily drawing are thorns that have already begun to dig under the skin, but so be it. I can’t compete and I don’t want to. I’ll still draw, but only when I’m moved to make an image, to play with color and line, to discover pleasure in the skill. And if the result is worth sharing, you’ll find it here.