Experiencing the Moment without Rush or Worry: When we grab a pen or pencil or brush and begin to noodle around, as I like to call it, just as when we sit before a notebook or a computer screen and begin to draft, we are opening ourselves up to a side of ourselves that responds to discovery. Whether or not the draft or sketch turns out as we like, we are practicing showing up and seeing what we can make. When we are drawing, we get to experience again what kids feel as they make things: kids don’t care yet what the end piece becomes; they just enjoy the physical and emotional experience of using the art supplies and covering the table with them and filling a page.
Perseverance or Freedom to Begin Again: I opened up my camera roll recently and chose some recent photos to doodle. I expected very little out of the sketches—mostly, it was for the joy and the practice, and to have a prompt that could help me to leap into making marks on paper quickly, without sitting to think about it for too long. Did the doodles match my photos precisely? Not at all, but precision is not my goal. In the drawing, some fingers were slightly bigger than the others in the peace sign my elder niece flashed to me in the yarn store and my younger niece’s arms under the pizza boxes were too short, and I didn’t quite pencil in the funky sunglass lenses completely on the self-portrait doodle. But does any of it matter? Nope. The hour and a half I sat outside with my little square sketchbook surrounded by art supplies, my hand and mind moving across the page, was the complete goal, and honestly, it was such fun that it felt like about ten minutes. I was surprised to look at my watch and discover it had been well over an hour.
We can put a lot of pressure on ourselves for the first sketches or the first drafts to be beautiful or remarkable, and yet, it’s a great reminder in both arts to invest without expectation of outcome. Also, we learn when we’d like to continue and when starting over is best. Some drawings surprise me that even if they don’t look objectively great, if I keep finessing them, they can become something remarkable anyway. Or it’s just time to scrap and try again, no penalty. If what I draw starts off wonky and keeps going astray, I can just give a chuckle and turn to the next page. Either way, the experience in knowing when and how to continue or to laugh it off and begin afresh serves well in both drawing and writing (and dare I say? Also in life).
Fulfillment. This one needs little explanation. When I’ve been meaning to write or to draw or photograph for a while but haven’t gotten around to it, I start to feel…deflated, agitated, and distracted. Once I’ve given myself the gift of a few minutes or an hour making something, I feel more content. I’m just happier when making new things; maybe you are, too.
