Why can’t life be more like drawing?


Every now and then I’ll make a drawing and when I look at it I think to myself “hey, that’s not half bad. And I made that. Wow!”. It is almost like I have a hard time believing that I actually made it.

Not all drawings are created equal; some are rushed, some are messy, some are simple lines, some are ornate or exact replicas of the actual thing (person, building, horse, whatever).

But all drawings are made the same way: by looking at something and then transferring what you have seen to a piece of paper.

Nomatter how complicated or intricate. You can draw anything, as long as you take the time to look at the thing, see the relationship of its angles, shapes and colours.

Line by line, slowly, slowly, the drawing will come together. Maybe not always perfect, but that’s not so important. What is important is being there, in the moment. Concentrating, focusing on one small thing at a time.

It’s funny, I used to think of drawing as worth less than painting, that drawing was simply something I had to learn so I could paint. So when I had learnt to draw, I thought “well, this is it, now I can draw; I don’t have to do it anymore”.

So I stopped drawing. And I’m fairly sure that my painting suffered because of it. I didn’t realise that I had to keep drawing to be able to keep doing it.

But now I see things differently, I enjoy drawing. It’s not a *chore*, it’s fun! And it’s certainly just as valuable as painting. Maybe even more so because it’s portable and I can do it whenever I feel like it or have the time.


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