I have not felt like sketching much. The pressure of constantly churning out sketches for posting on Urban Sketchers and other websites became too much for me; what used to be a joy felt more and more like a chore— so I stopped. I was afraid I was drawing emptily, drawing without inspiration, drawing what I thought would be liked, rather than capturing what I like, in the way that I like. Add to this anxiety the lousy Istanbul winter we just passed through, and my sketchbooks grew a thin film of dust. I have done a few sketches here and there— quite a few in Vietnam, but I have kept them to myself. I don't know why exactly.
I have received a few emails from readers over the past several months, asking me where the sketches are. All I can say is please bear with me, they will come. I just need something to move. Being around fellow sketchers in Portugal was a great inspiration, and there was something in the light and soil there, something in the birdsong, which revived me.
At the Mina de São Domingos, I picked up my pen, and started to draw.
