I am standing in the store, and here I am again... in front of the sketch books. Now really... I have enough. I do not need another sketch book, I have sketch books I haven't even sketched in yet. I have diaries and plain paper sketch books. Ones with covers I can paint, and ones that are too cute that I-don't-dare-touch-them for fear of diminishing them in some ridiculous way. Walk -a w a y- from the sketch books, I say to myself sternly, as I gently place this adorable one in my shopping basket. Oh well, just one more surely won't hurt, right??
I love the sketch, the simplicity of pencil on paper. The magic of the mark. Transforming of the book with a mark I make, and with my mark, I make it mine. I love that my sketch can be bold and colorful, or it can be a line that only my trained eye can see. The sketch and I are one.
If the book is deemed cute, or it's paper is modest but of good quality, then it passes my test. If the paper can be easily torn out with that small vertical perforation, then it is good! Most likely, it will be coming home with me. Sometimes it has lovely inside art, or, like the one above, it's cute cover causes me to open it up, and I find irresistible-ness inside. I am weak with resistance. I have them big, and I have them small. They are tucked into the pocket of my handbag. They are thin and they are thick. Would you look at THAT ONE! Home it comes.
The mark is simple, and it can become complex and extremely cute once I pair it with some wool fluff and my delicate barbed needles. The needles work the wool into the sweater, and turn my simple sketch into something worth loving.
... with all my heart. I love the sketch, the wool, the life they take on. And it all begins with one simple mark, on a piece of paper. Um, out of a cute book.
So, yes, I will keep sketching. And I will probably have a dozen sketchbooks on the shelf waiting patiently for a magic line or two.
What about you? What can't you resist? I know there must be something!