I love sketchbooks. I love seeing other artists’ sketchbooks. Watching their skill evolve over time and getting a peek at their personality are very appealing reasons why. Before I delve into my newer sketchbook though, I thought that I’d pull some bits n’ pieces out of older ones. These sketches were done quickly and from an emotional place so I figured, “Hey, why not share?”. I used to shudder at showing them to even the closest of friends so this ought to be an interesting experience for me. It feels like the right thing to do though, ‘letting it all hang out’ that is, being honest about myself.
…This one is from around the time I moved to Scotland, about six years ago. Having been a city gal my whole life and suddenly having to adapt to a village of 1500 was an experience I hadn’t mentally prepared for. I was so used to just heading out the door to find some entertainment or meeting up with friends… I dealt with the change by becoming even more introverted and less confident about my social skills… Feeling quite isolated and definitely not putting myself out there. Not quite feeling like myself (pretty obvious, judging by the writing on the sketch). I struggled. Even drawing was a challenge as I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. I always kept my eyes open for inspiration though and loved this short poem a good friend wrote at that time:
“Screaming at blank faces, Running endless races, Checking all the place, I thought that you might hide.” – Vaden Somers
(Keep. It. Together, Alisa… Just keep it together…)
“Vanity Vs. The Grotesque”
A crowd has gathered. They stand around the front, staring at the “beauty”. Admiring, holding a mirror up in front so it can see what they see. Faces showing praise and love. But we can see its true self: bulging, oozing, freakish by the usual standards of acceptance – its beauty is just a barely-fitting mask. No one is willing to acknowledge this fact even though they can quite easily spot it if they just step a little to the side for a peek. Who is really the grotesque?
Faces. Eyes especially. It seemed the more distance I put between myself and other people, the more I craved connection. As simple as a connection that you get in a knowing look from someone who “gets you”. I became mildly obsessed with eyes and faces, I’m sure for this reason. Subconsciously trying to fill this void.
Yes. My brain was as chaotic as it appears. Not sure if much has changed, really.
The traveller. Looking for home or at least a good place to lay down some roots… I think you can carry “home” with you depending on who you are.
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