Talking to Myself

A page from one of my sketchbooks.

Sketches--mine (yes I look 'em over often) and those of others--fascinate me. My favorite shows at art museums are the ones that exhibit sketches. Unfortunately, not many of those happen in Denver, so while I don't get to see sketches in person, the internet provides plenty of peeks and inspiration. The variety is amazing, and the use of sketchbooks has changed quite a bit recently, as they seem to be morphing into something more finished in look--art pieces in their own right.

Not mine though. My sketchbooks are still random and thoughtless--meaning I don't think about them as finished artworks to be viewed. I use my books and my sketching as exploration of technique, as problem solving, as practice, or as a repository for the imagery that needs releasing from my head.

 

And I use them for preliminaries.

Yes that internet is great--much of the time. It provides inspiration, but also tremendous opportunities for self-doubt/comparisons. 

I admit it, I look at some of the sketchbook pages of artists and I become troubled by the roughness and absence (of what--finish, class, artistry, pure magnetism?) in my own. Ugh.

 

So part of my life as an artist entails talking to myself. Being reasonable about what I do instead of engaging in the pointless--yet somehow seductive--act of comparison.

 

The most effective words to myself?  "Get to work!"

 

So I will. 

Thanks for reading!