Sacredness Of The Ordinary- My Drawing Notebooks

They sit throughout my room, in their own little shelf, or box, or even in the palm of my hand. It’s nighttime- particularly a cold one, and I know this because the heat is turned up a little too much. It’s been a long day, and honestly, I’m more drained than a sink. I have things that I can’t quite process, feelings that are building up and they’re a mess, so I open my notebook to the next page and I start drawing. A lot of people ask me how I think of the things I draw, and to be honest I don’t. I just think, and I vent to the paper and I wait until its done and then I reflect. Sometimes I don’t even feel like it was me who drew it, but I see the emotion behind it and that clears up any confusion.  

     This has become a part of my daily routine. Whatever time of day it might be: noon time, evening, or the wee hours of the morning, if an idea comes to mind it needs to get on paper. I can’t explain it, but being an artist comes with side effects. It’s not too bad, unless you consider waking up at 1 am with an idea and not being able to go to bed until you draw it as being so. 

     There are five. Each book has its own personality, if you shall, and each tells a different story. My first one isn’t the most powerful, but I see the potential of not just the piece, but of myself at the time. Art has a funny way of doing that too, it’ll always show you how you were at a time without even meaning to. My second one means the most to me. Given to me by a past friend, nothing means more than a book that represents someone encouraging you to grow. My third was a turning point. From black and white pencil to color, it shows my life blossoming into something I had no idea was possible.  My fourth was my favorite. An entire year of my life is preserved, along with the people and places I was fond of. My fifth book? Its in my hands. Its processing and processing and one day it’ll be done but until then all I need to do is feel. Regardless of what I feel it’ll end up in this book, and for that I have no words. That is why these books mean everything to me- because they’re my little diaries. Art turns a lot of bad things positive, and nothing feels better than looking back and seeing something worthwhile.

      Very few people see my drawing books as safe havens. I guess that’s what makes them special to me. There aren’t any memories that stick out to me on why these are so important in my life, because I am reminded every single day. Every day I have the opportunity to fill another page, and every single day I make another entry. My drawing books are a collection of memories and emotions that will continue to grow for the rest of my life.