When I sketch, I try to sketch a lot. I start with a line, a circle, something rude or whatever. I try not to think about it too much. I push away any doubt or care or worry or opinions. I don’t want my sketches to look good. I want my sketches to say something. To make someone see something they’ve never seen before. Above all else, I want to make someone feel a strong emotion. The emotional response is in the end all that matters.
When I sketch, I’m searching for something. It’s manic and desperate and immediate and ugly and raw. I strive for flow. Only in flow I’m likely to grasp the thing I’m looking for. The more I sketch, the more I throw away, the sooner I get rid of the white page, the more likely I am to find it. I don’t know what I’m looking for but I’ll know it when I see it.
I put an emphasis on turning up. To just sit down and do the work. Not to wait on anything or anyone or kid yourself with excuses or cop out with other duties. No matter how important they may seem. I let it spew out of me. I don’t let my emotions get in the way of turning up. I try to be honest with my emotions. My emotions are often my fuel.
My old man sketches. We bond over it. He sketches as a way to document his life and stories. We laugh and joke and be rude to one another and come up with juvenile ideas. There’s a kind of child like fun to juvenile art. People roll their eyes at it. I think there’s a lot of value in it. It adds balance and counteracts all the seriousness of life. Humour is a way into the subconscious and it feels healing.
When a child sketches, it’s done without ego or pretence or judgement. To be able to sketch like a child must be a wonderful thing. Care free and void of approval. I try to put myself in that state of mind. To see sketching as play rather than work. I’m learning to see everything as play. It takes time. Everything worth pursing takes time.