Sketchbook Habits.

Since the start of this year, after receiving a set of artist pens for Christmas, I have been trying to get into the habit of using a sketchbook more consistently. On days when I do not have the energy or time to get my painting materials out, I can still carve out a small pocket of time to draw and put something towards my practice. I am trying to reframe my practice so that it feels more accessible to me throughout the week, particularly as my energy fluctuates.

There is a sense of freedom that comes with using pens rather than paintbrushes and ink wells. The results are more immediate, which allows me to experiment more freely. When I want a sense of quicker progress or even instant gratification, these smaller sketches can sit alongside the larger paintings I have ongoing. Rather than focusing all of my energy on one piece at a time, I am trying to be more forgiving and more malleable, allowing myself to switch between works depending on my energy levels and whether I am feeling restless or deeply focused.

In some of the recent sketches, I have been looking back through photographs from my mum and my trip to Kingussie last summer. I have found myself drawn to the overlapping textures within those landscapes. The layers seem to tumble and trip over one another, filling every inch of space. Every plant, insect, stone and grain of soil feels as though it is clamouring to be seen. You are almost forced to pause and surrender to the cacophony and crescendo of the natural world.

To try and translate some of that energy onto the page, I have been focusing on layering different marks and keeping the pen strokes short. Instead of using one sweeping line for the trunk of a tree, I have been building it up through repeated, almost feverish back and forth movements. The trunk emerges gradually, not so defined that it separates itself from the rest of the image. The lines blend and bleed into one another. They are all fighting for space, yet they hold together in a kind of quiet harmony.