Blackdwaggie

So, it was eight months ago around this time I picked up a pencil for the first time since I was 16 years old. I'm not going to lie, it has been a difficult journey, and not just because learning this wondrous skill is a challenge, but because it has confronted me with aspects of myself I might have never seen otherwise. Alongside getting to grips with simple line, I had to get to grips with the vulnerability and embarrassment of being utterly and completely a beginner, where failure is the spine of the process rather than a reflection of my competence, where a shaky line is the precursor to a slightly less shaky line, where a crinkle in the paper from erasing can be flattened with your palm and drawn on again and again and again. I think sometimes we forget what it is like to be so unskilled at a thing, to be totally new. In retrospect I think apart of us believes we were really never that bad, and even only after eight months drawing I've found myself wondering if I had as much difficulty drawing a straight line as I remember.

Speaking of straight lines, this leads me into another aspect of myself I've become aware of; unrealistic and disproportionate expectations. On some days, if I struggle to get that perfect straight line, something I know I have done and can do, I grit my teeth and snort. I ask myself "What the hell is wrong with me? Is this because I took the evening off last night and now I'm rusty? Or have all straight lines up to this point been flukes and this line right here is the reality of all I can do? Have I really been learning? Why can't I do this now? It's a straight line!". This kind of inner monologue was frequent, and often more vicious than the example. Objectively, you can see how this barrage of lies is ludicrous, but in those moments, it is truer than any truth you have ever known. One day it brow beat me into tears, and as I was recovering, I listened to my thoughts and realized with horror how this type of inner diatribe of self deprecating nonsense was not exclusive to drawing. It dogged me at every step and with everything I did in my life. From that realization onward, I was determined to find out what I could do to deal with it. Well, I discovered a majority of what ignited these thought cycles was linked to the insane pressure I crush myself with, and these ridiculous expectations I held for myself. This came out most with drawing when I began to tackle perspective -- I told myself that because I had spent so many years writing and envisioning environments, scenes, characters, shapes and forms, I should be able to wrap my head around perspective fairly quickly, and if I didn't, well, why the hell not? That isn't good enough, you are not trying hard enough. Wow, as I wrote that I read it back and could see how flawed and plain incorrect it is, but back then, well as I said, it was the truth. Since then though, I have reframed expectation to be nothing more than facing a blank canvas every day with the willingness to learn, or at least remind myself of that as much as I can. As for tackling self deprecating thoughts, I took to meditation and mindfulness to stomp on the cycles, at least, that was my initial assumption of what would happen (dare I say my expectation?) instead I learned to recognize the thoughts for what they were, just thoughts, and to understand my response and reaction to the thought was the pivotal act. Like with drawing, I've made some progress and I have a long, long way to go, but hey, it is all progress!

Drawing has been and continues to be an enlightening experience, and even through the frequent frustrations, it is by far one of the best decisions I have ever made to pursue. I'm still very much a beginner, my grasp on the fundamentals is pretty slippery, but I know a year from now I'll have a firmer grip, and every blank canvas is an opportunity to learn not just the craft, but more about myself too.