Sketchbooking and unrealistic expectations

Yesterday, I rediscovered one of my favorite pens! Here’s what I drew with it:

I did this drawing as nothing special, just doodling people enjoying a day at the beach. I used a Pentel Brush Pen, which I find every once in a while in my bottomless bins of pens.

This drawing has some problems with perspective, proportions, and the waterline (I mean, what is going on there) but I like it overall. It’s just a sketchbook page! Those aren’t supposed to be perfect, which is something I struggle with.

Generally, I try to make my sketchbook pages perfect and crisp, with every proportion spot on, every person lifelike and expressive. But, of course, that’s not only impossible, it also is NOT helpful to growing as an artist. If you don’t screw up a couple sketches, you’ll never learn. And you build up more and more pressure and stress the further you go into your sketchbook. I used to never be able to finish a sketchbook, because I would make like three great drawings, and then never pick it up again, afraid of ruining it’s sanctity, or something. I’ve found things that help with this - like trying to avoid spiral bound sketchbooks, because they make it so easy to just rip out any pages you don’t like and have a perfect, pristine sketchbook. Which sounds good in theory! But no! You can learn from every drawing you do, no matter how absolutely horrendous it may be. For example, look at this giraffe I drew last month!

Good lord! That is an absolute TANK of a giraffe!!!!! I felt so bad, too, because I drew this plein air at the zoo, right in front of the giraffe! And it was such a beautiful, graceful creature, and I DEFILED it with this complete UNIT of a portrait!!!!!! No!!!

And look at this dog drawing I made a few months ago in my sketchbook!!

Oh my god!!! What is that?!! The bernie looks like it’s planning a bank heist, the bulldog has a mustache to rival Mr. Monopoly’s… the pug looks like if Michelin and Staypuft collaborated on a new dog mascot, the chihuahua has vampire fangs and Coraline eyes, and the pit bull… actually, the pit bull looks fine despite the questionable line quality. AND YET, despite the many flaws, I kept this page in my sketchbook because I thought I could learn from it. And I can! Underneath the unsettling eyes of the pug, behind the ridiculous sideburns of the chihuahua, there are still things that I like about this piece. I love how the pit bull’s collar turned out. I think I nailed the roly-poly neck folds of the bulldog! I can redo this piece and emphasize the things I like and subtract the things I don’t.

Okay, my last example is this sketch I did in the rough stage of my editorial project.

Ew!!! What is that face!? What are those lips!? No!!! Thankfully, this piece has a success story. Here’s the final result:

You see? I fixed it! I took into account everything I hated about the sketch, made it better, and voila! I don’t think this piece would have gotten to this point if not for that godawful sketch.

Sometimes, drawings are bad. It’s a fact of life. I don’t want nobody coming in here and telling me “oh, but my drawings are just always naturally perfect because I practice and always try my hardest!” No they aren’t! You have a shame drawer full of terrible drawings just like the rest of us! And that’s okay! In fact, if you also have a shame drawer/box/trash can, take your ugly duckling drawing out of there and look at them. It may hurt your eyes and bring you immense guilt and shame, but look at them anyway. And after you’ve taken a long, hard look, I recommend writing down at least ONE THING you like about each one. It may be hard, you might not be able to think of anything, but I believe in you!!!! One thing that doesn’t completely suck about the drawing. It could just be “hey, I tried!”

Once you have a list of ‘one things’ you like about each shame drawing, make a new drawing that incorporates all the things you like! And if it sucks, so be it! Try again later!

And if all your drawing look like garbage, and your self-confidence has been sapped, and you lie in a puddle of shame and self-doubt on the floor, Just remember: It’s just a sketchbook page.