why drawing makes me happy

Drawing makes me happy
I have been thinking about why drawing makes me happy, without getting too philosophical, and I have tried to put it in words. This proved more difficult than I thought, so this is a longer blogpost than I imagined. I originally posted this on my own blogpost. I received the most feedback I have ever had on my blogpost from fellow sketchers that I thought that is might resonate with people who use their sketchbook as an artists journal.

I have been drawing on and off (mainly off) all of my life. About ten years ago I started drawing almost daily, then I began carrying a Moleskine watercolour sketchbook, my Watercolour pencils and Lamy Safari Joy ink pen with me everywhere. Now, drawing is a part of me and my life. It is not a hobby or pastime, but part of what makes me – me. This realisation came when I was very ill about four years ago and had (successful) brain surgery. I was asking for my pencils and sketchbook in intensive care a few days after the operation and then sketched constantly in hospital over the following months. See all my drawings from my medical adventure here

operation on the evening of 30 March 2011. This was sketched in ICU on 6 April 2011

Now, I draw everyday, a quick sketch capturing a passing moment or a longer drawing over a few days or nights. If I don’t put pencil to paper for a few days I get itching for it - looking at people or scenes and visualising how I would capture it on paper – what would I include, what features to emphasize or which colours I would choose.
When I draw I am happy. I switch off from everything else in life, time stops, peacefulness reigns, there is freedom and fluidity. I try and draw in my lunchtime at work. When I make that time, I sit in the library shelves where I work and draw the books. For that half an hour, although I am at work, I do not think about deadlines, goals or things to do lists.

I read a quote from happiness guru Csíkszentmihályi describing this as FLOW, which is "being completely involved in an activity for its own sake. The ego falls away. Time flies. Every action, movement, and thought follows inevitably from the previous one… Your whole being is involved, and you're using your skills to the utmost.”
It has taken years to find my own drawing style and become comfortable with it (although I am still learning constantly). I feel as though I have finally found something that I am good at. I have accumulated skills and learning through years of practice. Sometimes my pencil moves confidently and smoothly over the page, other times tentative and exploratory. But I am always enjoying it as I work and explore within my comfort zone on the paper.
As I draw I am subconsciously thinking about the drawing, its proportions, what colours will work on the page. I am visualising how something may turn out. However, they are not thoughts I have to think too hard about – ah well, except proportions and perspective – that requires a bit more thought. The finished result may meet my original idea, or may not, but still exceed my expectations. In photos of me drawing, you would not think I am happy – hunched over, furrowed brow, intense expression- but honesty I am!!

There have been a few times when I have become very emotional and almost bought to tears at the thought of how much joy I experience and how fortunate I am to be able to draw. They were moments of an unexpected upswelling of joy. Below is one of those times. I was sketching on my own in the streets of Barcelona, after the Urban Sketching Symposium in 2013 on a Sunday morning, surrounded by the everyday happenings of peoples lives.

Barcelona July 2013 after the Urban Sketchers Symposium. Sketching on my own

There is so much more to write about drawing and happiness . Especially the concept that when drawing you are not only looking but observing what you see everyday as you never have before . But this is the subject of another blog another day…
I shall finish on David Hockney quoting an old Chinese saying “Drawing needs three things, the heart, the hand and the eye, two won’t do.”

August Is Artist Appreciation Month - Come And Join Us!

I was recently made aware that August is Artist Appreciation Month. The idea is basically to discuss/share about an artist who inspired you in your creative journey. It can be someone famous, someone local, a friend or a family member.

Have you heard of it? No? Me either.

After doing a little research, I found that the idea had been around for a few years but had not really taken off. Still, the idea has merit and felt like something worthwhile, so I've written my story below.

Before we get to my journey, I'd like to ask you to share yours. You can tell your story in the comments below OR if you share your story on your blog, please leave a link in the comments for folks to follow.

I think in this sharing we'll find we have things in common we would never have guessed and I also think there will be quite a few surprises. I hope you'll join me in sharing your story!

Here's mine:

When I looked back at my own journey, I realized my catalyst to undertake an artistic life began with a visit to a craft fair when I was either 15 or 16 years old. Mind you, my sole reason for attending the event was because my mother told me I could drive if I went and since that was uppermost on mind in those days, you can bet I went! I liked crafts as well as the next female, but I mainly went because I was able to drive. (The priorities of a teenager!)

After arriving at the event, I quickly became bored and wandered off by myself rather than trailing around behind my mother. (Teenage angst showing.) In my wanderings, I came across an artist painting a macaw parrot with watercolors. The parrot was mostly finished as I recall, but what held me spellbound was watching her use green paint to "carve" a leaf out of a white background.

The artist was quite skilled at creating form and shape in one wash. (I learned this much later.) As I watched, she added lights and darks, lifted a bit of paint and suddenly, it looked like I could have reached over and picked that leaf up. It seemed so effortless!

I was instantly, completely captivated, a willing hostage to the magic she was creating.

After watching for several minutes, she engaged me in conversation and explained a little about what she was doing. I have no idea what paints she was using, what her palette looked like, how many pigments were on the palette, the type of brushes she used, the type of paper she was using or whether she had two buckets of water or just one.

All I knew was that I had been witness to something incredible and I wanted to create magic too!

She told me about some classes on the other side of town from me, but I was never able to locate them. I searched for again after I moved to that area, but I had no luck in finding her. I'm sad to say I had no clue what her name was nor did I ever locate her.

I wish I could.

When I walked out of that craft fair, I knew with unshakeable conviction that one day I'd be able to paint with watercolors. I can still see that leaf coming to life before my eyes when I look back at that memory over 30 years later!

The artist engaged me with her humor and willingness to share. She encouraged me to pursue my interest by telling me about the classes. But maybe best of all, she made it seem possible that I too could one day create art.

There were no discussions about how hard watercolor is to learn or how long it takes or anything negative. She didn't put up any obstacles nor did she set herself on a pedestal to be admired by the little people. Instead, she showed me her joy in a simple pleasure.

It took another decade and a few more cataclysmic events before I became serious about the pursuit of my art. I'd always dabbled in crafts, but I believe the idea that I could actually making a living with art, be an artist (gasp!), was planted that day.

If I could sit down and talk with her today, I would thank her for sharing her joy, for demonstrating the simple pleasure of painting without apology for how good or how bad the work was. I would thank her for encouragement to take classes and for planting the seeds that have brought me to where I am today.

_______________________________________

There's plenty of negativity out on the web these days. The political arena is heating up with all kinds all balderdash, so how about joining me in sharing your story about an artist or artists that inspired you on your creative journey? If you do, please leave a link in the comments as I would love to read your inspiration. ~ Laure

a small "just in case" sketchbook

For the past three days Texas had "tax-free days" for back-to-school shopping. Since I had a money coupon and a 30% off at Kohl's, I bought these sandals from Naturalizer . . . only $13.40! Very comfortable. So I drew them before church with my large sketchbook and bag.

I took the large sketchbook to show the kids at church my recent dinosaur sketches, but I drew this in a tiny purse-sized sketchbook. The cover was from a used Moleskine-like book that a daughter-in-law gave me. I gutted it and refilled with small scraps of various watercolor and Bristol papers. The papers didn't quite fit heighth-wise and the gluing job wasn't very neatly lined up, but I like having a smaller "just in case" sketchbook in my bag. Especially since my new regular sketchbook is larger than the bag.

a new hand bound leather-wrapped journal

This art journal was bound last year using Kilimanjaro paper from Cheap Joe's and a scrap of leather from an upholstery shop --- they let me have the leather scrap free! It's soft and pliable, wrapping around the text block. This time, I sewed the paper signatures directly to the leather, one at a time, using hand-dyed silk threads. Which means the middle two-page spreads of each signature will have colorful silk thread running down the middle, but I like how the colored threads look on the outside spine.

sketching during grandchildren's visit

Three of our grandchildren are visiting this week. Yesterday we had a bit of a tea party, trying out one of the blooming tea buds that came with my glass tea pot. This sketch shows the flower it formed as it brewed.

Today is a painting day. All three chairs are taken so I snuck a photo of them instead of painting with them. Earlier, we had a chocolate breakfast: sourdough toast with chocolate hazelnut butter, strawberries topped with the same, and chocolate milk.

old sketch kit, refitted

Years ago I sewed this denim sketch wrap following a design from a library book --- I think it was from one of Claudia Nice's books. I remember using it on my first sketch crawl with Kate.

This time I filled it with a landscape-shaped pad of watercolor paper plus a watercolor block off my shelf -- the pad is Arches, a paper I don't like, which is why it has stayed on my shelf so long. The block is Fabriano Artistico paper which I love. The palette is a flat-profile tin with half-pans of watercolor attached with rubber cement. I like the extra room for travel brushes. It fits in an outer pocket with Velcro closure; inner pockets hold a mechanical pencil, pens, and larger travel brushes.

What I've Been Up To, or How I Got a Bunch of "Strangers" To Make a Book

Some examples of simple round back spine journals. 

A couple months ago I offered my first online bookmaking class. People have been asking me to do an online bookbinding class for years, but I've always pooh-poohed the notion.

I would tell people, "I like to be hands on." Or I would say "I like to see the students' faces when I explain things, so I can see if they don't get something."

All those things are still true, but a shoulder injury which made it impossible for me to lug my "portable" binding studio around finally convinced me I should give it a go.

So I started with what I think is an elegant and useful book for visual journal keepers (because of course that's most of the people I know). I taught my simplified version of the round back spine. I required specific papers and materials—so that if something went awry for someone, I knew I had controlled as many variables as possible and I would be able to help them "remotely," instead of in person.

And then I made a LOT of videos. (Over five and a half hours of videos.)

One of the great things about the videos is that everyone could see equally well every step of the process. The one downside to teaching in person is that when I demonstrate there are usually 12 people in a class, huddled all around me, vying for a good vantage point. And often there is only one opportunity to watch me do something. And I push people really hard in class because I want to get them over the idea of "perfect" and instead focus on the idea of process and the whole. (I'm bossy.)

With online classes people can watch the videos over and over and the videos include so many close-ups that this is one aspect of online that's actually better than being there in person.

Of course I spent so much effort on making the videos to the point and tightly edited, that what was missing, when I sat back and watched it all was obvious—all those lengthy digressions (some of which are humorous) I'm known for. (In fact one of my pre-release testers made this actual comment since she'd taken the class with me in person.)

So I made some more videos to capture some of those digressions.

And yes people don't get to see how "funny" I am in person, but I even addressed that by having 4 live webinars where students got to see me answer their questions in real time and be impromptu and a little goofy.

Since I had no idea how to "manage" my time involvement—I seem constitutionally unable to not respond to student questions—I limited my involvement to the first month. Then I set about popping in daily and answering questions as they came up, so people could keep working.

This worked great because some students dove right in and had a book finished before the first weekend was up, while other students did each of the steps in a slightly more spaced out fashion in between the demands of their lives. That second group were able to benefit from the questions asked by the first group of students.

By the end of the first few days I realized that yes I can get across all the important points through video. It would have been nice to stand next to a couple people who were tearing paper and having problems, but I've been doing this for so long that I had lots of suggestions for them and they all reported improvement after trying different things.

That was actually the best thing about the class, the students were great. They asked great questions, they supportively commented on their fellow students' work, and they jumped right in and got their books made. And I felt comfortable working with them, because I got to do what I love to do—answer questions and teach people how to make books that they can actually use to meet their needs and they way they work.

I enjoyed the process so much that I immediately started shooting videos for 4 more book structure classes and a drawing class. As you can imagine, it takes quite a lot of time to shoot and then edit video. This is a bit frustrating for someone who writes as quickly as I do. When preparing for an in-person class I could write a handout, do a sample in the days before class to remind myself of the process' quirks so I'd be sure to mention them all, and then start packing and shifting stuff.

I guess I can live without the packing and hauling of stuff! And now I know that there are people all over who right now are working on their July book. I told them I wanted them to make a book a month for the year, to really train their minds and hands to do this process. They know I can check on them!

I have been asked when I might offer this class again. I wish I could give a concrete date. I want to release a couple other classes first because 1. I like to do new things, and 2. I want to see which types of classes are most popular. I have well over 75 classes that I'd like to translate to video, if the classes prove popular online. But as with any new venture you need to see what people like and don't.

I only teach one way, however, and that's with involvement and precision. So far the students have told me they liked it. One particularly inquisitive and delightful student told me it was like having a daily conversation with Roz—well for him it was, because he asked a lot of great questions.

My production schedule has been disrupted a couple times in the past few months as my 93-year-old father-in-law has gone in and out of hospital. He's frail, and now totally forgetful, but he has some great days. And he is very interested in what I'm teaching online.

"How can you even teach drawing online?" he asked, when I told him I had started putting together a drawing class for online.

I looked at him for a moment and considered how I could explain it. I've been teaching binding and art classes for over 25 years and it's just something I do, like paint in my journal. It seems natural to me. Teaching is something I've always done. So how could I give him a concise expression of the process of teaching a subject he has never dabbled in?

But it was immediately obvious to me. He's an engineer. I've lived my entire life with engineers (or scientists and process-oriented artists).

"You know when you were first learning to be an engineer you had to learn first principles?"

"Yep."

"Well there are those for artists as well. And a new vocabulary, just like engineering. And there are processes, which you can break down and explain so that people understand how to run a problem independently."

His eyes lit up. He knows all about learning something so well that he can improvise and create. He did it his entire life as an engineer and on his best days he still sits down at his computer and works on his pet projects.

"Well that's worth doing," he said.

And I nodded. I believe it is.

Right now I'm looking forward to the launch of "Drawing Practice: Drawing Live Subjects in Public." It's based on a couple Drawing Practice classes I've done in person over the years. However, when I started doing the videos it became something much richer. Things that were normally one minute asides in class, discussed quickly before we pushed on to some "have to get done task," became their own entity. It was a fun experience to see this happen.

The class deals with five things I believe are critical in developing one's drawing skills for live subjects—daily practice, habit building, understanding fundamentals so well you can improvise, actually getting out in public, and dealing with one's internal critic. The class starts on July 24, 2015. There are new lessons every Tuesday and Friday through August 22. (Students have access to the videos and course materials for a year.)

I will probably offer this class again sometime in 2016, but am not sure of the schedule. Right now I plan to post another book structure class, a visual journaling class, and repeat "Simple Round Back Spine," first. People are always asking if I'll teach a gouache class and a color theory class—yes, and yes. But they won't be ready at least until the fall of 2016 or later.

If you're interested in taking online classes with me you can go to my blog Roz Wound Up. There you can see a "Classes with Roz" image in the left-hand column. (If you click on it you'll go to a page about the most current class.) Just below that image is a sign up form. If you sign up there you'll be fed automatically to my class mailing list and receive promotions that way.

Alternately you can go to my blog and scroll down the left column to the Category list and click on Classes. OR you can scroll down a bit more to PAGES and find the pages that say "Classes…" and click on one that appeals to you.

There are a lot of things that I'm still coming to grips with in online teaching: where to store all this video "footage" for one thing! But as with the other teaching I've done in my life, it has introduced me to interesting and creative people who want to learn. These students push me to think about my process in a meaningful way. I am grateful for that.