From perfectionism to play: my journey with sketchbooks

 

I get bored easily. If I keep doing the same thing in the same way for a long time, it just becomes uninteresting, and I feel I need a certain variety of methods to stay curious and excited. I love classical painting techniques, but I just wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t experiment from time to time. And my field of experimentation tends to be a little book with blank pages and a mindset of no expectations.

My first sketchbook dates back to 2009. Before that, I kept diaries for many years, where I mostly wrote down my dreams and occasionally commented on the events of my life. I started my first sketchbook in secondary school and filled it with drawings of rockstars, stream-of-consciousness sketches based on my dreams and social life, and graphic novels inspired by poems. When I decided to apply to study Fine Art, my art teacher told me to draw everyday things from life – and so I did. I now realise that these images bring back more memories than the words I wrote. Somehow, my drawings are able to recall the mood of a place, a person, my everyday surroundings – and even though they don’t necessarily help me remember specific events, I remember the feelings, which I find far more valuable.

I didn’t keep a sketchbook for a couple of years after I left school because it made me tense. I wanted my work to be perfect, and every single page filled me with fear. My expectations were too high to allow me to notice the fun side of experimenting. And then I had children and learnt that you have to accept what is and let go of what isn’t – which I believe is the easiest way to truly enjoy the present.

My first child was a sensitive sleeper – she woke up every time I left the room. So I read, looked at paintings online, and watched things – but if you’re a creative person, your urge to create is stronger than your urge to consume. And so I started drawing her. Some sketches were great, some were terrible – but I kept sketching nonetheless, and soon I began to notice that I was getting better and better at expressing my message. I believe it was a message to myself and to my child: a record of a peaceful moment together, of the simplicity and beauty of looking at my baby with love – and my effort to capture that moment as a still image.

I suppose that’s when it truly began.

I then started sketching more and more. It became my treat in the evenings after intense days out with the kids – my way of processing and making sure these memories would stay with me. It became my little homage to our moments together.

 

I also sketched to learn and to try out new things. I made value sketches, block-ins, and experimented with different media. I do enjoy painting larger works and commissions, but it’s in my sketchbooks that I feel true artistic freedom – where I don’t have to be anything in particular. I can play and feel like a child again. I can follow the flow and see where it takes me. Sketchbooks are my playground.

They also make it easier to be consistent. It’s difficult to make yourself paint or draw every day, but sketchbooks are great for small steps – you can work slowly but steadily, while waiting, watching, or travelling. It doesn’t require much time or focus, which somehow keeps the weight off your shoulders. I genuinely believe sketching has made me a much better artist.

 

One thing that has helped me massively is breaking my sketches into two steps. I start every single sketch with a pencil drawing. What’s great about this is that you can do it anywhere – and I’ve done it while waiting for a doctor’s appointment, on a plane, a train, in the car, and at playgrounds. When it’s just a pencil block-in, you don’t need to be in a state of flow – just to have the idea. For these, I keep a special folder of photos on my phone and cloud drive. Finishing my sketches sometime after the pencil block-in also allows me to look at them with fresh eyes and correct any mistakes.

My stack of sketchbooks is constantly growing, and looking back through them, I can not only see my progress but also the flow of life – how I and my loved ones have changed, how I move through the world, and how my interests shift from one thing to another. It’s an album, a record, a diary – a book about myself, written for myself. But most importantly, sketching brings me pure, creative joy.