It has been an urge growing for months--wanting to sketch. I had stopped many years ago when I was an insecure teenager. I had been in art classes for as long as I can remember, but somewhere near the end of eight grade I decided sketching and art in general weren't for me. I had the blessing (and the curse) of being in art classes with some extremely talented people (some of whom have turned art into their full time career). Everything they created was always exponentially better than my own work. I think a lot of my dissatisfaction with my own artistic skill had to do with a lack of patience. I wanted to sit down and draw something spectacular in less than an hour. I was deluded I know. But when you're thirteen you're priorities are a bit different.
Before middle school, I used to write stories complete with illustrations. And then I'd bind the books stamp the cover, with "By Anita Saxena" and I was a triumphant self-published author. My biggest fans were of course my parents and my grandfather.
About a week ago I picked up a pack of drawing pencils and I started drawing. I can't figure out why I ever stopped. It's so relaxing and fun. And art seems to compliment writing somehow, like I'm using a part of my brain that had been dormant for over a decade. It's so nice to have use of that portion of my brain again. Writing seems easier now somehow. But the feeling may just be temporary. We'll see.
So in the vein of Natalie Whipple's Saturday Sketch (which by the way she hasn't posted a Saturday Sketch in a very very long time), I'd like to share my Sunday Sketch of a mardi gras magnet I found in the infamous everything drawer in my kitchen.