It’s been over 12 years since I tried my hand at sketching. When I was a little girl I used to watch how my brother and my father created the most amazing drawings. As a teenager I spent many hours drawing. I also discovered some of my sisters could do a little magic with a pencil and paper. I always thought of my drawing as a family tradition and carried on with it when I went off to college. I thought about majoring in art but decided it was my escape I just wasn’t ready to share with the world.
When you grow up life gets busy and before you know it some things you assume will always be a part of you take a back seat. I occasionally painted over the years but didn’t realize I had not drawn anything in over a decade. Believe me there is difference in painting and drawing. The movement and approach is completely different. In 2012 I made a resolution to do something with my art. Anything at all! Then we got pregnant… Then we bought a house… Then of we had to renovate our old house… Then we rented that old house… Then we moved! Then I had a baby! Before I knew it most of 2012 had passed with no art project undertaken. I thought about it all the time while I was pregnant but most of the time cried in frustration and complained that I just had too much going on and it broke my heart. I tried to console myself with the thought that my blog was my art but it wasn’t the same. My blog is my grown up diary.
Finally one day right before our awesome little guy Ian arrived I sat down in the kitchen and faced the real reason I had put off any art projects. I was afraid. I was scared I couldn’t do it anymore. I was scared that my passion was going to be dead-ended because my hands wouldn’t remember what to do. I was scared that like my voice (I used to sing) I would realize that any talent I may have possessed died with my youth. So I took out my paper and my rusty ole pencil, said a quick silent prayer and blindly started the process I somehow deftly remembered. It was like an old friend but I was still terrified my abandoned friend would bitterly deceive me the moment my pencil touched paper. I’ve never been able to draw just anything. Sadly I have always had to feel and emotional spark or connection to the subject matter. Otherwise it comes out looking like a third grader did it. So with my heart racing I began looking for possible subject matter.
I finally found an image that felt kind of like a reflection of myself and touched my heart (That’s the only way I can describe it) and I made myself connect pencil lead to paper. Twenty minutes later I looked at my drawing and ran outside to show Dave. My old friend had mercy on me. Though shaky and a little weak, my hand had not completely forgotten what to do. I haven’t done any other drawings since but I think I may have found my next subject. Maybe my friend will cooperate for another drawing. This may be the start of something. We will see.