I’ve found solace in my sketchbook throughout my life. In my childhood a means of play and expression. In my teens, a bolt hole from reality into which I would have most readily jumped in feet first and not looked back.
I rekindled my sketchbook habit back in 2010 when I was in my familiar black hole and needed to escape.
This comfort and silence. A non judging welcoming page, the smell and touch of crisp paoer. The sound of pen gently scratching lines that fill and dance through endless space.
I draw through line, space filled with cluttered thoughts and ideas. I am a drawer.
Be brave, come dream and make marks.
I’m busy. Filling up the paddling pool and various inflatable animals for the after school paddle club.
Think there may be other little paws wanting to cool down today.
Can’t be shown, won’t be shown. Has to learn it himself. Can’t think who on earth he gets that from.
Gruff’s spent all morning making his own robot out of tin foil and, a shoe box and a lot of sticky tape.