I can't quite remember when I realized I loved drawing. I had always enjoyed it as a hobby, mostly on the side of my notebooks while the teacher was speaking. But I treated it the same way I treated most things at that age, something I coasted through because I could.
Somewhere along the way, that changed. Sitting on the bed in my dorm room, I looked down at a drawing that had already been presented in critique... and there was the realization that it wasn't enough anymore. I could do better. Damn the grade and whatever pride and complacency I was holding onto, I wanted more. To draw more. Bigger. Faster. To fight and earn every inch of competency.
And for the first time, something was actually fighting back. I relished it.
That experience I wouldn't trade for the world.
That's what I enjoy about drawing - that it can be as competitive amongst ourselves, how we want it to be. And to feel the texture of the paper, the breathe of the charcoal, or lead. I love a good fight. :)
ReplyDelete