If one thing about myself is true, it is the statement that I’m a sucker for sketchbooks, notebooks, to-do-list blocks, painting paper blocks, canvases, and any thinkable surface you can paint or write on. Another true thing about me is the fact that I rarely use them. My art studio is filled with unfinished works as much as with untouched surfaces. Let me count how many sketchbooks I have. Eleven. Guess how many of them are full? None. I’m very proud of myself for only having empty notebooks (yes, I do promise myself to write in those, but that will evaporate my body as soon as I pay for it and leave the stationery store) but I haven’t finished a single sketchbook, although I paint and draw since I was eleven years old and have a design degree behind me. So, why the fuck I don’t use all of those sketchbooks?
Fear of failing
The probable number one reason is the fact that I have many fancy sketchbooks. Like, do you remember the times when Moleskine was everything any artist would want to have? I surely do. I was a design student at the time and I needed everything, so my expenses were already quite high. At the time, my primary medium was watercolour, as I still had the skills for it from the arts school. So, Moleskine aquarelle paper sketchbook was the obvious choice, but it was so expensive that it had to be a Christmas gift. And I think you and I already know where it’s going… The gift is too precious to use it wrong or to make a mistake.
To make a mistake is generally not an option in my mind (and it wasn’t, especially at the time). So, I saw this sketchbook as 30 pages aka 30 chances to not fail. All the art bloggers posting their perfect sketchbook tours on reels wasn’t helping much with pressure. Of course, my mind saw this sketchbook as something that I only have once and will never be able to repurchase. And to possess a material proof of my failure was too humiliating of an idea, so I stopped using it at some point.
The same principle is valid for any special or rare sketchbook, like the one I have brought from Morocco. It is handmade and has a mix of different paper in colours and quality. Once again, a finite number of chances not to fail. I won’t be able to replace this sketchbook, so I stopped using it.
I’m not perfect enough to present the level of skill required to be allowed to sketch on this kind of sketchbook. While I write this, an insight comes to my mind: How are you supposed to deliver perfect (or at least better) results if you don’t try? And isn’t a sketchbook a place to try? I know — mind-blowing. But I’m the kid who was criticised for holding a brush wrong while painting, or I was washing my colours off the paper if the teacher found them “off”. So, no, in my head there was no room for a not perfect result, unfortunately.
Too bad quality ones
Well, maybe while reading the previous paragraph, you thought to yourself: What’s the problem? Buy yourself a ton of cheap sketchbooks and be happy. And I’m pleased to announce I did it. The issue was that the paper quality was so bad that it was almost impossible to sketch on them.
The paint wasn’t blending. The surface was too fine or too rough. Paper got holes if I’ve used a rubber. Everything came out patchy. The markers soaked through. It was a nightmare. Even if I gave myself permission to fail, it came out worse than it could’ve been. I was so frustrated because I thought that was my lack of skill. Not knowing my mediums. In one word, that was traumatising.
Fear of retraumatising after using them as my trauma dump
Speaking about traumas. There is one special sketchbook which I bought for one of my university courses. It is a duty of every designer to have a sketchbook. And it was our duty to submit a full sketchbook at the end of every term (for every art related subject, of course). Which was for me an unattainable goal.
I think, it was the third uni term, and I was trying to fill out a new sketchbook with natural studies and funny animal sketches when heartbreak entered the chat. So I grabbed the first and only sketchbook I had on hand (it was another duty of a designer, to always have a sketchbook in a bag) and started to pour my feelings out on paper. It went on for several days or even weeks. I have pages over pages filled with the darkest stuff I’ve ever produced. My therapist was shocked when she saw it all years later. I still get chills when I go through those pages.
Did I submit this sketchbook to the uni? Yes. There was no choice. I was too short on time to fill another sketchbook. The prof never said anything about it. I was honest and she [for once] held her [shit] self together and let it slide.
Impatience and skipping of the sketch all together
In the uni we were supposed to use those sketchbooks to capture the moment, to hold the inspiration or to just experiment aka fuck around and find out as we were mostly creating patterns. It makes sense to turn and twist everything around trying to find right angles, colours, shapes, and forms. At the end of the term with a collection submission we were expected to explain, how we got there, step by step. The sketchbook was the beginning and the centre of everything. The proof that you did it all by yourself. But this isn’t how my brain works, unfortunately.
My patterns, collections, and designs were ready in my brain the second I’ve heard the topic of the term. I didn’t need the inspiration trips, the deep research or sketches over sketches to find something. I had ready to go patterns right in front [or behind] my eyes. Everything from the size to colours, to patterns was born at the same time. It led to me working backwards and creating patterns and then braking them down and only then faking the sketchbook. I hope this doesn’t come arrogant, but my brain thinks in complex results, and I hate being slowed down by unnecessary processes.
It’s the same with my art now. I always have a finished result in my head, with every detail already thought through before I even start painting. There are no tries and errors in this process. I have a vision. I make one sketch as a reference. I paint it ready. Done. Next!
Procreate on my iPad
One thing we know by now is that there’s a sketch to every of my paintings. Which I create with the Procreate app on my iPad. Digital sketching allows me to do an unlimited number of attempts with no fear of failure. Yes, you need some time to establish your very own brush collection and learn some layering skills that make sense. But at the end of the day, it’s the most versatile medium for em at the moment. The best part, I can scale and print and erase everything, so the tracing to the canvas is easy.
A promise to myself
Today, here and now, I promise to myself to sketch at least once a week and fill out the sketchbooks I have. I do have enough resources to buy myself new sketchbooks (even the Moleskine ones). I do have the skills to not be ashamed of the results. The sketchbooks are meant to fuck around and find out.
Come with me on this journey of playing with different sketchbooks I already have. Let’s look through my old sketches and create new ones. I’m more than happy to document the whole process and let you be the part of it, so we can exchange and inspire each other!
Stay tuned!
Love you,
Lorena