I was reading a fellow-sketcher’s blog a while back
and she posed the question, why do you
sketch? It’s a question I ask myself often. It can be a nagging question – why?
“Why are you doing
this?” I hear my monkey-mind say. “You’re
not getting paid. You’ll never be a great artist—why waste your time? You
should developing your own business or working for peace or delivering blankets
to the homeless- or at least making soup for shut-ins. But sketching?”
I've always had a rebellious streak, so I keep
going. I snub my nose at my monkey, grab my pen and have at it.
I've come up with plenty of rationales:
It keeps
me from missing my grown kids, and now grandkids, who live thousands of miles
in different directions.
It helps
me remember where I've been. While sketching we experience it all -- the
sounds, sights, smells...exhaust fumes, french-fry grease, perspiration
dripping down your back…
Not to
mention the smell of nail polish remover as I sit at the local nail spa.
I've
sketched since I was a kid. That's a good reason - I've always done it. I may
still have a sketch of my feet done when I was 12 while sitting on the front
stoop of our apartment on the south side of Chicago.
Waiting
in long lines are perfect for analyzing which hip rises and which falls with a
bent knee.
It also
steers me away from judgments and frustrations. Instead of wondering how anyone
could actually choose to wear that outfit in public, I notice how the orange
shape of the top contrasts so vividly with the purple hippie skirt. Add a blue
sky for background and the colors are operatic.
My daughter says I notice the strangest things.
My daughter says I notice the strangest things.
The other day, however, it came to me. I SKETCH
BECAUSE IT MAKES ME FALL IN LOVE WITH THE WORLD again and again and again. A
pop of color here; a rusty texture there; the orange, yellow and green fence in
front of the blue store; the way the sun paints an ephemeral shadow-shape on
the side of a building. Or the shape of the truck as it blocks my perfect view.
So I sketch. I take it all in. I get excited about
the variegated pink of easter egg radishes, I love the bulbous shape of the
vendor’s belly as he reaches to pick out the best apple a our local farmer's
market.
I constantly search for a good angle and analyze
the shape of the a building as I both flatten it out in my mind and try to add
depth on my paper.
I wake up in a new city excited . . . no, chomping
at the bit . . . to discover new neighborhoods, new storefronts, another red door,
an abandoned streetcar, countless new people on subways – each shape unique and
each story lending worlds of depth to what I see.
You could say I’m obsessive. Or captivated. Or a
rebel. All apply. One thing’s for sure. I just can't won't stop falling
in love with the world and sketching whatever I can.