Let’s make our sketchbooks full of ugly things

How do you write a blogpost?

Where do you begin?

Sitting infront of anything blank, with the intention to fill it, is daunting.

A stark white piece of paper that must be filled with writing. Or art.

It's such a simple task, but it can be wholly overwhelming.

Much like everything else, you probably just need to start.

So, this is me, starting.

Over the years I have collected so many journals and sketchbooks (like any other artist), with the intention of filling them all with beautiful drawings, writings, cut-out mementos and dried plants.

But over the years, that’s how far I got (also, like any other artist)

Just a sliver of intent, sitting next to a bunch of barely filled books.

Why?

(And I’m asking this and answering this, in the same way that I'm writing this -

by just typing out whatever comes down from my heart, my head and into my fingertips)

I think - no, I know, it’s because we want it all to be perfect.

Each piece of art I make must be gallery-worthy.

Must be able to sell.

Should be seen and adorned by a thousand eyeballs (ha!)

Must be loved by all.

Because my art is an extension of me, and who wants to be rejected?

How can a simple little drawing

or even a book filled with drawings

(that’s not even seen by anyone else)

live up to that expectation?

And so, we come only as far as intent.

(Why do I say ‘we’? I’m not sure if I am referring to me and you, the reader, with the idea that you can relate to this, or if I am referring to a duality in me, as in me, the person, and me, the artist, are two separate identities. Are they? I don’t know - let’s leave this here for another time. This intended blog might be turning into an online journal)

But intent without action is pointless,

no good

and puts you on a path that leads nowhere.

And I really want to go somewhere.

Somewhere where it’s easier to create and play free from judgement

(mostly, a judgement I’ve placed on myself)

And so, I hope that I can put more value in filling my sketchbooks with

ugly scribbles, messy ink splatters, writings that make no sense, and

awfully abstract drawings that rely more on feel than look.  

And I hope the same for you.

Fill your notebook with scribbles while paying half-an-attention span

in the weekly meeting, scribble a love letter to your dog on the napkin,

and doodle on blank pieces of paper.

Do this for a whole year, and see what it gives you in return.

This year, let’s make ugly things.

Ugly things that only have to be seen and felt by us.

Ugly things that are filled with a sense of self-expression.

Ugly things that become less ugly, because they were made without hesitation.

(Oh goodness, we are back to having just intent again)

Hopefully this is the year, where intent gets to bloom into energy and movement.

To inspire you

(and me, again and again)

here are some snippets of my personal sketchbook scribbles over the few past years.

x

A collection of sketchbooks

Flowers in the wind

A golden raven

Paging through

Flowers and dots

Sketchbook scribbles

Her

Face and eyes

In the flower bush

Paging through

Paging through

You are home

Me of many faces