For weeks, months really, life has been driving itself and I've been half-dozing in the passenger seat. Late last week, as I finished up some pieces in the studio, I realized that creative thought was giving way to fatigue. I began wandering between stacks of fabric, bowls of thread, and boxes of wool, hoping for some tactile inspiration. I found lace insertion I'd set aside to color (last summer) and began to wind it onto a creel— all 50 tangled yards of it. Still nothing.
Eventually I got to the bookcase and paused at the sketchbooks. They were like magnets, and I took one from its shelf, then another. It was a moment of re-visiting ideas, like a chat with old friends. I carried one to the drafting table, opened a new sketch book and reached for a pencil. It was obvious, after only a few minutes, that all these weeks of not drawing or making notes had taken a toll. Once I started doodling and drawing, however, I couldn't stop the ideas from spilling out! Blessed old journals— just handling them reminds me of how much energy they hold.
I settled into pen and ink, filling a page with black ink doodles in a Zen manner of concentrating. I slowed down and drew circles that more nearly resembled circles than my usual quick sketch, really watched where the curved line bent, and I filled in the open spaces carefully, staying right within the lines (just like I was supposed to do in first grade and never did). Every mark had purpose and connection. Even my heart rate slowed, and I could feel my own breathing. I was "in the zone."
Next I sketched one of my favorite veggies from notes I'd made for a pastel drawing class I took with my sister winter before last.
I went to the sewing machine and did a free-machine embroidery based on my pencil sketch (two bulbs of garlic is always better than one).
Eventually I got to the bookcase and paused at the sketchbooks. They were like magnets, and I took one from its shelf, then another. It was a moment of re-visiting ideas, like a chat with old friends. I carried one to the drafting table, opened a new sketch book and reached for a pencil. It was obvious, after only a few minutes, that all these weeks of not drawing or making notes had taken a toll. Once I started doodling and drawing, however, I couldn't stop the ideas from spilling out! Blessed old journals— just handling them reminds me of how much energy they hold.
I settled into pen and ink, filling a page with black ink doodles in a Zen manner of concentrating. I slowed down and drew circles that more nearly resembled circles than my usual quick sketch, really watched where the curved line bent, and I filled in the open spaces carefully, staying right within the lines (just like I was supposed to do in first grade and never did). Every mark had purpose and connection. Even my heart rate slowed, and I could feel my own breathing. I was "in the zone."
Next I sketched one of my favorite veggies from notes I'd made for a pastel drawing class I took with my sister winter before last.
I went to the sewing machine and did a free-machine embroidery based on my pencil sketch (two bulbs of garlic is always better than one).
Glancing around the embroidery table, I realized that the Little House theme has been exhausted, but the idea of windows interests me, windows as seen from the outside of a house, and very abstract. The best source of ideas is to walk or drive through old neighborhoods, where the architecture is apt to be more interesting. Coincidentally, we are making a short trip to Savannah this week, where interesting architecture is the only game in town, so I should have ideas by the dozens when I'm back in the studio.
If you want inspiration to get back into working in a studio journal from more than a dozen contributing artists, go to this new website: http://sketchbookchallenge.blogspot.com/
Friday I made a trip to Blick for a few pencils and the experience was so good I went back on Saturday! Gradually, I am getting myself together again, and even driving short distances. I had forgotten how exciting a trip to an art supply store could be— and how much more exciting to unwrap everything and try out the new toys.
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