Vol IV: #16 Love To Draw

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If I wanted to uproot my life, enroll in med school, and become a doctor, I believe I could do it. Or an engineer, the field doesn’t matter. Pick any mentally challenging, technical field, and I believe I could succeed. But, set me down with a stack of newsprint and a pencil and I fall apart. Seems absurd to think, more so to write and put into the world.

I’m sure some will mock my thoughts, Nik, have you even tried to learn organic chemistry? And didn’t you fail physics? Twice? While it’s true, my grades in the sciences are lackluster, I want to remind the jury I earned A’s in biology when I decided to try. Systems, even variable systems, are easy to understand. But to produce something new, to capture something unknown to the the universe, then create it, that’s my challenge.

You see, I feel like a failure because my drawings are shit. They are eight grade at best. And I struggle to keep from filling my trash bin. I know I’m being harsh on myself. I know I need to be patient, that the excellence will come from the doing, from making slight adjustments every day. But man, do I suck right now.

And if I give up or self-sabotage, I’ll have lost the battle to my enemies called self-pity and shame. But my friend Love says to be patient and kind. Endure. And more than these, tie your heart to hope. Forgive yourself, and move on.

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Vol IV: #13 This Drawing Stuff

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A few years back I bought a handful of online drawing classes. And within the first thirty seconds, I could I tell it was money well spent. The instructor was an experienced teacher and began by demystifying the drawing process. He started by debunking the talent myth and plainly stated drawing is a skill. Anyone can learn a skill, talent isn’t part of the equation, he said. This simple approach set me at ease and gave me confidence in his teaching. And as of today, I have yet to progress beyond the first 10-12 lessons.

* * *

When I was a kid in school, art class was my favorite class. Always. The art room was the most colorful room in the school and it was the only place where I could make a mess without incurring the wrath of an adult. In high school, I enrolled in as many art classes as possible (which helped inflate my GPA.) During those years I began to see my talent, particularly in sculpture/3D classes. I was never much of a drawer, but I could assemble random materials into something new and intriguing. I even won an award for best 3D sculpture in the district my junior year. That was 25 years ago. But I continue to cling to that award as a reminder of what’s I can do, what’s possible, especially when I’m waist deep in anxiety and shame.

What I need is a process, because process is more important than location. Process is what grounds us, and the lack of it shows when we’re blown of course by life. I want to be like Paul, and I identify with his words: good times come and go, but I learned how to be in every season, for He is in me (Nik version.) I have a writing process, including goals and such.Why not have a similar structure and drawing?*

So, starting today, I will produce one drawing per day, six days per week, for the next 90 days. The year I spent writing was a real boost to where I am today and I believe a similar approach to drawing will yield hearty results.This is in addition to daily practice and the aforementioned lessons. Improvement is in the doing. After the 90 days, I’ll reassess where I am and set the next 90 days.

The real hurdle is going to be my mental approach to each day. All too often I allow myself to be discouraged at the results, as my inner critic slaps me squarely across the face. He’s a demonic asshole standing between me and my destiny. And it’s time to get past him. This one comes out by doing and persevering. The last bit here is to hold myself accountable which is why I’m blogging about my newest process. Be on the lookout for what comes.

*Drawing is the foundation of all art- even 3D art. Once I can sketch the sculptures I see in my mind on paper, I can work from those blueprints rather than try to recall what I saw in mind. It’s important.

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Abstract: Doodles

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Why don’t I draw more?

What am I waiting for?

I’m waiting on a giant missile,

to destroy my apathy,

and energize my vision,

a sudden burst of eternal motivation and drive.

I know now it’s not coming.

There will be no grand reveal or impartation,

no, not for me.

My success, the completion of my race,

is in the little efforts made,

the daily grind of a small drawing,

intentional marks on the page.

A doodle is not a doodle,

rather a link in the chain,

from here to there,

from scared to active.

I want to create things,

that hit people in the chest,

and melt their battered minds,

but first, I must be content to draw shoes, and birds,

and the trees outside my window.

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Journal: #290 Day 1 of the Rest of My Life

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My post yesterday was, in part, a stall tactic. The average journal post is 350-500 words, and yesterday’s was almost 1000. I knew when it was complete; I had nothing left to do but draw. It was nerve-wracking. And why? Where was the artistic gusto and flare from last August? I know not. Still, after dinner, a long walk, and some time on my phone, I sat down to draw.

For a bit of a structure boost, I bought an online drawing course through Udemy. (It’s a great platform with lots of low-cost classes covering a wide range of subjects. BTW, never pay full price. There’s always a discount.) The course contains 17 units, about 20 minutes in length. Even an act as simple as starting the first video brought me to tears. It’s embarrassing.

Within the first five seconds, I'm hooked. The course instructor- Brent Eviston- began the lesson by discussing the talent myth. (The talent myth is the idea some people are more qualified to do something than others. Of course, some people are more mentally or physically able to do certain tasks, but that doesn’t mean shit.) He went on to talk about how drawing is a skill, and like any skill, anyone can learn it. Brent’s approach is exactly what I need to hear.

After Brent’s reassurance, he discussed lines all types of lines. Then he mentioned real artists like Degas and Michelangelo. They used soft imperfect lines too. This was a subtle yet powerful teaching tool. Art and its creation are often seen as magic—artists revered as gods, and their work a type of miracle. Mr. Eviston erased that gap in minutes without hype or rancor. I loved it. He brought the greats down to my level.

The video ended with an assignment to draw lines for 30 minutes. So I did. It was glorious. I drew short lines, long lines, circles, and a face. The goal was to do the work rather than create. I filled four pages with lines over my 30 minutes. And then, I felt it- the unburdened itch to do. After months of shame and self-pity, the most simple of desires resurfaced in my gut. Thanks be to God.

The fear of a thing is always greater than the reality of the thing. I’m drawing, from the comfort of my apartment, with nothing on the line. DRAW-ING. But, before my lesson, I was in tears. At the moment, I would’ve donated a kidney rather than put pencil to paper. Isn’t that strange? Seriously. WTF? I made it, though. One day down, the rest of my life to go.

(The tree above is a doodle from this afternoon. It’s my first one in months.)

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