Started drawing a couple years ago. Always wanted to draw but never thought I could. Used to watch others put pen to page and re-create whatever they saw in front of them. Used to make me burn with envy.
Truth was: I couldn’t draw because I never did. Wasn’t till I was willing to fail, to do it all wrong, to make mistakes and embarrass myself, that I was able to see how easily mistakes could be corrected.
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Of course, I’m no master artist. Am an amateur at best, one who does it for the love of doing it. And what do I love most? When I draw, my mind goes mute; words are abandoned, which prohibits self-criticism.
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I just look at a thing and pay close attention, noticing its lines and shapes and shadows. There’s no judgment involved, just a little love as I bring the image to life on a lined piece of paper.
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After taking a six-month break, it’s nice to see that all I’ve learned has settled into my subconscious. Now, rather than worrying that a drawing will suck, I just look at my subject, study its lines, and put it down on paper. Sometimes, of course, it does suck. Especially when the Giants lose.
Zen Man Yo 