Here's some images from one of my favorite old sketchbooks.
My first year of grad school, I filled a pocket-sized sketchbook during a ten day Christmas vacation.
I drew the first page while waiting to catch the bus to Virginia, and drew last on the bus ride back.
Not only can I chart where I was during the each section of the sketchbooks (bus station, bus, girlfriend's, Dad's, grandparents, bus), but what I was thinking about.
The preceding pages were from the Girlfriend stage of the tour. The psychologically astute among you may to pick up on a certain ambivalence I had regarding the relationship.
Now I'm at my Dad's place.
This sort of relentless resposnive doodling isn't easy. It precludes all sorts of other activities, like, say, socializing because you're always nose-deep in your sketchbook.
But dang, if it doesn't keep the artistic chops up.
This sketchbook represents me at my sketching peak, but I kept the habit up pretty well for years... until I moved to Memphis. I've tried, but there's something about Memphis that I just find singularly uninspiring.
More to come!