So Not Brave

Ebbs and flows, sketchbook tour

It’s Monday, right?

Oh, no? … Let’s call it Mondnesday, then.

Lately, for reasons not inherently bad (in fact good, like building a yurt! and my sister moving in with us!), I’ve found it difficult to give sustained attention to my drawing practice. Whenever I’m away from drawing for very long, I tend to loosen my grasp on my core sense of self. That’s particularly difficult for me to grapple with in times of transition, and autumn is predictably, always, transitional for me.

Summer is—as for many, I assume—a time of expansion, of outward and wide energy, of physical labor, worldly adventure, socializing, and sizzling!

And autumn marks the shift into Minnesota winter—and I describe it this way because here, winter is significantly longer and darker and colder and quieter than the other places I’ve lived.

Autumn, this year, looks and feels like:
We have 2 days to blow out the hoses, cut down the grapevine, clear the garden, clean up the wood pile before the freeze! What am I forgetting…
Oops another summer went by without installing gutters!
Blerp, don’t think I’ll finish that painting in time for the art sale.
Why do all my sweaters have holes in them!?
What happened to my other glove over the summer…!?
Socks on, slippers on, slippers off, socks off, slippers on, slippers off, socks on, slippers on.
Will we be able to finish the yurt before winter?
How does one plan a wedding, help.
Another week gone by without sketching???
How did I end up with such a big mending pile? And so many fleeces to wash? And weavings and knits to finish?
What is the dog allergic to, and when will she stop growing?
Who am I? What am I doing? I’m hungry!

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So, there’s a lot of noise these days.

Sitting down with my sketchbook, while it seems like it should be so simple, often makes this pattern in my mind: drawing -> children’s books (one of my big dreams) -> what do I have to offer of all people? What is my story to tell? Why is it taking me so long to figure this out?

So when there’s a lot of noise, and I anticipate the self doubt that rides along with drawing… it’s easier to get swept up by the madness of autumn than commit to the diligent practice that I know ultimately grounds me and my creativity. For me, doing that hard work requires bravery. Every day.

Something that helps me find this bravery is to look back through my old sketchbooks. I can see the ebbs and flows over the years. One year I see a lot of writing, one is filled with professional research, one is overflowing with ideas, and one is loaded with drawings of frogs. I can see experimentation, and awkwardness, and brilliance, and I can see that my ideas aren’t bound or limited to now, aren’t necessarily urgent. I can find myself again in a sketchbook from 2017. And if I could do it then, I can do it again, now.

So, without further ado, I’d like to share a couple of my sketchbooks with you! I think these are from 2020–22:

Thanks for being here :-)
All my best,
Sara