Today I flicked through some of my old sketchbooks. When I’m not writing for my blog, I tend to be sketching and carry a pad with me everywhere I go. Often I dislike what I’ve drawn, but then months if not years later, I decide I do like some of the sketches after all. It’s not that I think they are brilliantly drawn, I just like the memories that they evoke.
For example, with this sketch I can vividly remember how my parents’ back yard was, that is was sunny, that my dad had just been pottering in his garage, that he still had his old van, that I was looking out from my old childhood bedroom and that I felt happy. Not sure I would have felt the same way about a photo.