One sketch a day was the goal I set.
I don’t know what I was hoping for, really…maybe that time would open up and there would be enough minutes to give a drawing what it needed. Or that the months of neglect would fall away, if I just put pencil to paper each day.
Clearly, that didn’t happen.
My hand is still learning to follow my eyes; my eyes still remembering how to really look. Even when I found myself absorbed by what I was doing, there was still sleep, or work, or the dog needing to go outside that necessitated putting the pencil down.
What did occur?
I did it: one sketch per day. These aren’t great art. Some lines are tentative; rendering is often flawed; many sketches are weak. So weak, the lines are almost impossible for the scanner to pick up. Still, I did it.
While I was at this task, I remembered the meditative quality of drawing: how the outside world can fall away and the only communication is between eye and hand. I pleasantly recalled how much I enjoyed being immersed in getting that depiction down. I felt my hand grow steadier through the week. It seemed, when I’m being pulled from one obligation to another, an assertion – in this one small way – of my own path.
For that alone, it is worth it.