This is the blog that almost wasn’t as my procrastination had reached levels unsurpassed. However, through a chance meeting with an artist touching up a sign at the community garden and an ensuing conversation, we discovered that we had much in common, from our beginnings in advertising to illustrating and tutoring.
I asked him around for coffee later in the week and the art-practice talk continued. I showed him a few sketches (not the old etching ruse if you’re thinking) and we discussed how we approached our work and the philosophies which underpinned our art practice. It was good to share these ideas with a like-minded person and it started me thinking about putting into action the work I could talk so earnestly about.
Line has always been something artists aspire to perfect. Sounds simple? Not so. Not the ability to create nuance, as in music or oratory; the ability to ‘feel’ how the weight in one’s arm, hand, through to the fingers. It’s both a physical and intellectual thing. But once you ‘get’ that connection it is thrilling. The moment a line becomes ‘your’ line, something you can control; add softness, or heft with the pencil, pen or brush. It’s exciting, something you don’t ever want to lose.
On the weekend I joined a group sketching outdoors in an old cemetery. The mosquitoes bit in but my sketching ability didn’t. I could have blamed the borrowed tools; but I knew I was out of practice.
Once home, I washed out my old favourite pens and replaced the cartridges. I am now determined to keep sketching regularly no matter what the result.