For years, after I graduated I continued going to open sketch nights but unfortunately drifted away from drawing.
I’m sure… I couldn’t find a class that was convenient or my bank account was too bare to budget the fee. Maybe, in an exhausted moment I convinced myself it wasn’t worth the effort anymore as with each move I hauled around boxes of sketches… I refuse to throw out.
I guess it doesn’t really matter why I stopped drawing because I started again.
As the model took fluid gestural poses I felt awkward and stiff. In my mind, I heard Shelly’s voice commanding just “draw”. For three hours my fingers grew dark with charcoal, as my eyes tried to reawaken to what I had forgotten. To remember myself as an artist.
Someday, I’ll open the boxes of drawings that I have stacked in my basement. I imagine I’ll find a travel log of sorts from the voyage I’ve taken with the models that helped me learn to be an artist.
In the meantime, I’m going to post some of my sketches, with their missing feet, out of proportion heads and lines that are just trying to find their way again, here on the blog. I’m thinking it will be a way for me to keep my art on course. Hopefully, encourage me not to drop anchor and get stuck again.