I’m a little sporadic with my blog posts at the moment. Things have been busy.
We’re approaching Christmas, it’s the end of a long and very difficult term at work, the kids are full-on, I’m tired, and whatnot. And the truth is, the past few months have been somewhat dark. That happens sometimes.
But something else has happened.
I’ve been drawing. More, and more, and more.
I love to write. But my occasional brain-body disconnect means that no matter how adept I am with words, I can’t always summon them to the fore. Images flow from my mind to my hand to the paper far more readily.
Since I wrote my lament at the loss of my one true passion, I’ve been reclaiming it. And the funny thing is, even as my days have sometimes been very dark so far this autumn and winter, my drawings have been vividly bright.
Why now? I’m not quite sure. But where once I drew in nothing by greyscale, I’m rejoicing and revelling in colour as I did when I was a small child. And where once I drew nothing but people, I’m now drawing landscapes, fantasy scenes, monsters, repeating shapes…and people.
Perhaps it’s because, after so many years of confusion, self-scrutiny, and self-doubt, I finally understand something of who I am. I’m more comfortable with who I am. I like who I am. And even as I struggle with overwhelm, the weight of uncertainty, of change, and of responsibility, and with negotiating even some of the basics of adulting, I encounter the awe-inspired, imaginative child inside me somewhat more these days. I welcome that child.
Why do I choose the colours I use?
My favourite colour is green. I love the natural world.
And yet I’m hardly ever inclined to use it in my drawings. I’m drawn towards warm, fiery tones, or otherworldly palettes of turquoise, pink, and purple. I feel compulsively drawn to these hues. Perhaps it’s because they reflect something of how I see the world – the way so many colours other than green seem to shimmer and glow like fairy lights against the green background of nature.
Perhaps I’m simply drawn towards the fantastical. So often, I’m overwhelmed by too much of the mundane.
Whatever it is, it flows.
The perfectionist in me often curses my still-developing, still-emerging technique. I have a way to go. And at the moment, my scale is small. An A5(ish) plain-paged Moleskine journal that fits in my bag; a collection of Stabilo fine liner pens.
I have a sense that I’m probably going to want to go bigger at some point.
But for now, I’m just enjoying it. I’m taking joy from it.
And when my days and nights are dark, that’s what matters.
[Featured image description: alien desert landscape in oranges and reds. A rough, stony, curving road runs through the middle of the image, along which three distant silhouetted figures (resembling an adult and two children) walk. In the background are cliffs, hills and volcanoes in purples, blues and browns. A binary sun system shines in a darkening sky. Strangely coloured desert plants dot the scene.]
All images ©️ A.R. Nibbs 2017.