As a drawing exercise, I reclaim old illustration paper that has been damaged in some form or fashion. Maybe it was ink or paint that bleed from a top page to the paper underneath. Maybe it is page that I erased pencil lines so many times the paper fibers feather the ink when it is applied. Whatever the case, a couple drawings and the use of my Sakura Pigma Micron pens provide an art exercise.
The challenge of creating analog art in a digital world is the only people to see and experience it are those who receive it–who physically hold the Bristol paper with ink illustrations in their hands. It is a great temptation to showcase the art on social media for the ephemeral likes of affirmation and validation. But the experience of sharing art in-person is intimate and memorable.
Is this sentimental? Or wistful desire toward a time and place where people were present and engaged? The value of creating something tangible and shared among family and friends avoids parasocial relationships. The glare of digital praise is alluring, but lonely.
Before mobile devices with cameras — and software applications that capture images and store and share them — there was the sketchbook. A hard case, cloth-cover book featuring at least a hundred blank archival pages was always within reach. As a young art student it was my practice to draw advertisement layouts, images, typographic arrangements, or other sources of inspiration that I might use in future creative projects. Occasionally a sketch was a hand-drawn duplication of a photo, print ad, or poster. More often it was an interpretation, re-imagining, or riff on an original source of inspiration. It was, and is, how I learn — how I study. It is tactile.
The practice of drawing develops the interaction of muscle and neural growth. Drawing is a skill that will not improve by machine learning or multimodal image creation software applications. It is a dance between the muscles of the hands and fingers in coordination with the eyes and the cerebral cortex. Outsourcing these skills only lead to atrophy of intellect and muscle. Looking at my hands as they hover over the keyboard, I wonder why I am not drawing instead of typing. This too is a dance. The delicate steps navigating life’s dance among digital and analog tasks.
Coffeehouse Junkie 