My Sketchbook Saves My life

I love my sketchbooks so much! Maybe as much as I love my family, my child, or a good bowl of grits. Having a consistent sketchbook routine is so important and crucial to not only to me as an artist, but it is a necessary space for my rage, anger, joy, research, and observation.
 
When I leave my house and observe the world around me, I can’t wait to get back home and put it into my sketchbook. When I am out, I can taste the inspiration that I get when I see something that interests me. I am also the type of person that carries little sketchbooks and pens with me in my purse. My purse is usually filled with mobile art supplies and Fenty.
 
As an artist who also suffers from chronic pain I am consistently impaired physically. In the last 4 years I have been recovering from major surgeries that have kept me in a space of pain. I thought about Frida Kahlo and how she pushed through her pain during her recoveries while painting in bed. Well, that didn’t work. Painting can be so physical, and I just couldn’t make it work. Learning more Frida Kahlo, she had a bit more support than me to do her artwork from her bed.
 
Instead, I poured my anguish into my sketchbook and committed to working on paper with drawing, collage, pastels and colored pencils and tempera sticks. I was able to snuggle with my sketchbook when I was tired or in a lot of pain. My sketchbook is a space that holds some of my purest forms of expressions.

I don’t show people my sketchbook. To me it’s like showing my underwear. My sketchbook assists in rescuing my sanity and it helps me heal from the ills I face every day and it is a space where my mind and creativity can flow safely. I much rather go to my sketchbook, than curse someone out.

​Sometimes it doesn’t work.

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