Like most kids, when I was 3, 4, 5 even 6, I loved to draw. Just to draw, nothing specific. Everything was fun from trying to put what I saw into paper, as well as trying to materialize whatever thing I had created in my mind. And the paper was that: an infinite playground. Always fun and accessible, if a bit nonsensical.
Me, 3, drawing for fun
Mind you, in my case, the drawings were not great in any way, probably they only made sense in my own mind, but they were magical all the same. But, like with most things in life, this changed when school became a bit more serious and people started comparing each other. During art class, all of us children were asked to draw and soon it was clear that the others, with the same age as me, could draw much better than me.
From that moment on, until my last art class in Brazil, as a 16 year old, drawing and everything else done during art classes became a source of shame and sadness. Even while giving my best, my works paled in comparison with those from others, and I knew it, that hurt the most. Of course, this had a profound effect in me: insecurity and a strong shame of myself. Still, it was something minor, drawing was something I did very rarely.
However, my course here in London (Foundation in Art, Design and Media) requires me to draw and, to be honest, that was a source of a lot anxiety about coming here, even making me question my decision all together. Nevertheless, I came and that proved to be the right choice, as quickly the focus here is not on a realistic representation of the world, instead it is on experimentation with materials and concepts.
But that is not what is important about the classes, what truly mattered is that they are an open space in that, yes, some people draw better than others, but no one is made fun of because of that. During one of the classes, our teacher, Phil, asked us to make as many sketches of the school we could in about an hour, however all of the drawing was to be made on newspapers. In the following class, he made us walk around Central London making sketches of buildings and streets. These two events, for some reason, awakened my long-lost sense of fun while drawing.
After doing the sketches around London, Phil asked us to draw some parts of our way back home. I decided I would go back by foot and make about 9 drawings along the way. The trip, which normally takes 40 minutes, ended up encompassing about 3 hours. The whole tie, I had a huge smile in my face, despite the cold and the funny looks people made at me.
Well, I didn’t write this just to show off or anything of the sort (ok, maybe a bit). My aim with this is actually making you a bit happier: if you were like me and hated drawing or even if you weren’t, but stopped for some reason, try drawing again, just for fun, like a child.
Hey again. I realize this is all very anecdotal, but I wanted to try my hand at writing something like this. It its a necessary experience. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed this selfish text of mine. If you did, please leave a like and if you want to ask something, or just talk, just a drop a comment 🙂