As far back as I can remember, I was always carting around paper and pencils to draw something - anything. When I was very little, I was in love with the Disney characters from the movie 'Bambi', and happily put my version of them on paper. I would create a panorama of animated, cartoon figures interacting with each other, often bringing them to life in some sort of animal-made village in a secret woods.
Part of me can recall doing this, but the other part has some of the original drawings in a small shoe box, its design a reminder from my ancient past. My dear, sweet grandmother saved them from the many visits I was so privileged to have had with her. I loved drawing in her home, and she readily encouraged it - paper scattered on her big, cherry wood, dinning table. I can still smell the food she was always preparing from her kitchen, some 50 years later.
Somehow, my mother ended up with this same box, probably sometime after my grandmother's passing. The box managed to survive the onslaught of chaotic life in my mother's home, till she brought it out for me about a year ago. There were also many drawings of horses - my fondest animal through my childhood. Although I never actually had one, there was the imaginary one who followed me everywhere. We finally brought home our first dog when I was 5… a cherished event that enabled me to fall hopelessly in love with this animal, and countless others since.
Through my teenage years, I still found drawing to be a major part of my life, although it moved to many forms and multiple uses of color, including oil paint. Several pieces were produced, which until recently, my mother's basement still possessed… but alas, a good estate sale saw to the end of those. I was astounded that someone wanted them.
In collage, I became full-on committed to oil paint, but of course, drawing was not just an everyday enjoyment, it was also a rather heavy commitment. All of the practice with pencil, charcoal, conte' crayon, or some other graphite media on a daily basis, made for quick and finely finished results. It was a very healthy dose of collage reality, but I gladly kept the pace…. until I quit school two years later.
Could it be that all that intense drawing left me so out of breathe? For some reason, I rarely felt the urge to sketch since, and although I never lost my urge to paint, sketching for fun was not part of my life…. until recently.
When I draw something so personal, or even something not so personal, the thing that reveals itself is not just the object of my attention, but also a part of who I am. It is a simple progression that feels completely natural to express in such an unadorned way.
These drawings are not masterpieces, nor are they intended to be. Perhaps that is what allows me to enjoy the process … no pressure, and no need to take them any further than the healthy practice they so well serve.
So happy to be drawing again. :)