Sketchy

“In some strange way, maybe one form of art complements the other. There are things I can say in writing that I can’t express in drawing. And there are things I draw that I could never fathom into words.”

 

Lately, I have been trying to find out what my state of mind is by looking at the things I draw mindlessly. Thinking that somehow, these pencil strokes, all textured graphite, hold latent thoughts, secrets my brain keeps from me. It has been a great many figures with tilted heads, as of late. Looking up, swan-like necks stretching to reach something far beyond what the eye can see. Ballerinas and other dancers have also been popping up in my sketch book —all strong, graceful muscle and pointed feet. They were solitary figures making art, being beautiful, impeccable even if nobody cared.

But there have also been flowers instead of retinas, petals instead of lashes. There have been bodies buried underneath autumn leaves, worried eyes peeking from the orange and yellow foliage. It has been windy in my sketch book, too. Hair flying to the wind, long, mermaid locks covering limpid eyes. Or dark, dark skin burned by the sun and sea salt, topped by a froth of white hair. There have been faces, young by default, hiding behind large, fanning palm leaves, their dark lashes brushing against smooth, freckled skin. And there have been balconies housing stretched out limbs, and curly hair tangled in a myriad thoughts disguised as planets, stars and pastel moons.

I remember one day, writing a story about a boy named Athens, who drew people so much because he was lonely. The story didn’t go far. I couldn’t find a denouement, as though there was no moving beyond the loneliness, as though that would be his world, until the very end.

The stories I write don’t have very many people in them. They mostly figure nature and feelings that are hard to describe. But the things I sketch are mostly human figures and not much else; hardly any background or detail.

In some strange way, maybe one form of art complements the other. There are things I can say in writing that I can’t express in drawing. And there are things I draw that I could never fathom into words.

I don’t know what that’s supposed to tell me about what I’m feeling though.

Well, actually, I do. But I’ll ignore it for now, because my brain usually hides things from me for a reason.


Note: Art by Agata Wierzbicka because my own sketches don’t best express my own thoughts. Do check her out, her art is amazing 🙂