Drawing instead of scrolling

Sketching as an anchor in the real world

A decision I keep making

Some drawings don’t stem from an idea, but from the movement of the hand itself. It is precisely this ‘getting started without a plan’ that my current drawing practice is all about – not as a goal, but as a process. Simply for the joy of creating. Especially with the digitisation of our everyday lives, I have to actively work to preserve these processes.

As a child of the 80s and 90s (does that immediately bring a radio presenter to mind?), I grew up with the gradual digitisation of our everyday lives. The Gameboy became the Nokia mobile and then the smartphone; the sketchbook became the iPad.

But the latter, in particular, never really felt relaxing to me. On the contrary: despite initial euphoria and all the advantages, I have repeatedly made the decision to draw analogue over time, because I want that immediacy, that tactile quality, when creating.

Purposeful aimlessness

The analogue formats that have been with me for years are urban sketching and my art journals. With urban sketching, I enjoy consciously taking in places in detail and absorbing them thoroughly; by contrast, I use the art journal primarily for experimenting and conceptualising new projects.

However, I’ve realised that neither is suitable for carrying around all the time or for filling short gaps of time. That’s why I have two new companions: a slim sketchbook and a black fineliner. Their sole purpose? To act as a counterpoint to everything cerebral and digital. A creative practice that’s undemanding and allows me to give free rein to my intuition. And I keep it as simple as possible. I don’t have to choose a pen. I can’t erase anything. I don’t want to achieve anything. I simply want the option to draw a line whenever I feel like it. (And I very often feel like it!)

The chosen media aren’t set in stone for me; they’re just what feels best for me at the moment. There are no dates on the pages and I don’t document how much output there is. Some days I don’t get round to it at all; on others, several double-page spreads come together effortlessly. Everything feels light and buoyant. It’s a playground, and playing is fun.

This is usually what happens: I look around, spot a shape that catches my eye, and transfer it onto the paper. Somewhere on the page, without any intention of ‘depicting’ it realistically. I simply want to create a starting point. Then I continue drawing from there, wandering across the paper, sometimes incorporating other things I see – or perhaps not.

The eye searches, the hand finds. Directions, compositions, patterns. Sometimes I discover something that emerges from this – a landscape, for example, or a sheet of stickers. Other times, the page remains completely abstract.

Drawing as an anchoring point

When I draw, I am completely in the moment. Consciously focusing my attention on what I can physically see in front of me provides a welcome balance to my otherwise screen-heavy daily life. In those moments, I create output rather than consuming input, and I act rather than react.

It allows me to truly connect with myself, work at my own pace, and remain independent of all the terrible things happening in the world right now. (Not that those things aren’t important. But I don’t have to deal with them round the clock.) Whenever I return to drawing, I feel better afterwards.

And the best bit? I manage to really let go, let the pen find its own line, and the results even surprise me. I watch in fascination as something emerges playfully, without pressure, without the need to ‘please’. I really celebrate that too. It’s not about the result. Nothing here needs to convince anyone. I draw until my intuition says: That’s it, next page.

One might ask, somewhat critically: what’s the point of all this? It’s just meaningless scribbling that leads nowhere, isn’t it? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. I can’t know whether anything will come of it, but that’s not what matters to me. The minimum goal is achieved straight away: something is created, and it feels good. Incidentally, I’m practising drawing inspiration from everything I see around me and not being afraid of the blank page. And even in the studio, it’s a good warm-up exercise before I face the empty canvas.

Speaking of canvases. My goal for this year is to develop a new series of paintings. At the moment, I’m still at a very experimental stage in the studio, trying to bring different techniques and ideas together. It’ll be a while before anything is finished or ready to go into production. I’m only human, after all, not a machine ;)

However, there are still a few pictures from my current and previous series available – do have a look through my portfolio!