Sometimes it seems I can’t get enough of the outside world. I want to read and see and hear. Lectures, shows, books, websites, I envelope myself in all things visual. Other times, I am stuck inside my own head. I make lists of ideas, I doodle, I sing. I can’t imagine seeing another show, the outside world holds no interest for me. I want to spend all my time pouring my thoughts onto paper. This is when the sketchbooks come out. I don’t keep a daily sketchbook, my scribble are erratic and I have many sketchbooks scattered around the house. I picked one up today to scratch out a list. I turned through the pages and found this lovely little sketch inside:
I quite like it. It’s not very old, I probably did it one night in the basement a couple months ago as Tom wrote music. All these little drawings really do add up to something. If I was to take inventory of every little chicken scratch of grand execution, I think I’d find I’m constantly making and thinking. Strange that. Nice that.
I kept feeling conflicted about not wanting to go out and see other people’s work. But I get better at recognizing these waves of creativity and I should catch them when I can.