Ugh. Left my studio in a bit of a hurry today without my sketchbook because I just couldn't find it. Feels almost like being without my phone, or say, my arm. Okay, I'm being a little dramatic.
But I am reminded how important that dog-eared thing is to me. More than just the catchall of my (sometimes innermost) musings, ideas, and dreams, my sketchbook acts as a compass. A reminder (which I frequently refer back to) of what I hope to accomplish or express. It's things I feel poured through me into physical manifestation by Holy Spirit, my running water captured onto pages, if that makes any sense.
Lol- yeah, that's a lot of weight for a bunch of spiral bound paper. But I pretty much feel that way about all my sketchbooks. All of which I've hoarded since I started drawing as a child.
I still gain insight into my creative evolution flipping through the old ones. Sometimes it's an opportunity to revisit old ideas using skills or techniques I've gained since.
So when I find my sketchbook again, as I carry it from one spot to the next, maybe I won't toss it on the floor, balance it on a ledge, leave it in a pile of papers, prop my cup of tea on it, or whatever, like I've always done!
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