Yesterday, I doodled in my sketchbook. I just allowed my mind to take my pen and doodle whatever it felt like doodling. Instead of really thinking about what I was going to draw. It's almost as if I let my thoughts flow thru my arm, into my hand and down to the tip of my pen. It was an incredible release, because normally, I think and think and over think... everything before I left myself just start drawing.
I'm going to start approaching my sketchbook in a new way. If I want to remember a word, I'm going to jot that down, if I saw a cool color palette I'm going to put that in there, etc... I've always wanted my sketchbook to also be art, but in my mind, I think I've always wanted it to be perfect, page after page of perfectly worked out, colorful drawings.
I could never before write in pen in my sketchbook, because... what if I wanted to erase, because I have to have it perfect. Perfectionism is the key word here. I was always trying to make things perfect. Which I know now is a ridiculous expectation, and why on earth would an artist want a "perfect" sketchbook.
I think I was worried that if someone did decide to pick up my sketchbook, it had to be beautiful (my idea of beautiful) inside. First and foremost, my sketchbook, your sketchbook that's a personal thing. No one should be perusing someone's sketchbook without the artists knowledge. A friend from art school keeps a sketchbook everyday of what's going on in his life. He works things out in his head on paper. It's his visual diary. I think that's so inspiring. Someday he can look back and reflect on his life, right there in his pile of sketchbooks. Amazing...
I'm going to start carrying my sketchbook wherever I go again. I allowed the clutter of everyday life (work, bills, chores, obligations) to block myself creatively. I hope by starting to carry my sketchbook with me, I will renew that sense of creativity that I know I haven't lost, I've just blocked it from shining thru.