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Yesterday, I cleaned my apartment top to bottom. When everything was said and done and dusted and
put away, I removed my sorely neglected Handbook journal from its place on the bookshelf and threw it on the table. I made a cup of tea. I sat my patootey in the chair, made an ugly face at the last of my drawings in the book, and opened to the next blank page.
What to draw?
I looked up. Incense burner that had been a sugar bowl in its past life. Laptop. Stereo. Beanie boo. Ripped note to self. Blah, all boring stuff.
A former professor's voice came into my head unbidden. No matter what, don't stop drawing. It doesn't matter what you're drawing. If you don't know what to draw, just draw whatever's in front of your face. (paraphrase)
Okay, then.
The reasoning is that if you're not drawing constantly, you're not getting any better at drawing. You're not refining your personal style. You're not... doing anything remotely productive, if you're in the drawing-things trade. Not that the things I was doing instead of drawing (learning to make masks &etc) weren't productive; they just weren't productive toward becoming a better visual artist.
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