When in 2021, in a rather chaotic way mid-pandemic, I moved from Cordoba to London carrying one suitcase and one backpack, I left behind not only my family, friends and pets, but also at least 15 years of artists materials. A pencil case is all I could carry. And the lesson I learnt from this is: most of the time you just need a pencil and some paper.
Moving countries turned out to be a bigger deal than I’d originally thought. It’ll be fun they said, it’ll be exciting they said (by They I mean the inner voice that makes all the questionable decisions in my life). The truth is that it is difficult. Very difficult. So extremely difficult. And it’s not so much about the uncertainty ahead as much as everything that’s left behind. That really hurts.
So for a long time my head was in no place to sit down and make art. At first I didn’t even have a table to sit at and draw, but I’d still pick up a random pen and make a doodle-a-day. And it got me thinking about this need, almost physical, to draw. It’s like a feeling in my hands, anticipating the satisfaction of a line running smoothly on paper with that soothing swishing sound.And all the promise in a blank page.
I got a sketchbook, and the premise was to just draw. Whatever was in front of me, wherever I was. So these sketches are mostly flowers on pub tables, the state of the allotment on weekends, some images I got from my friends Instagrams, my cats and the house plants.
How do you connect to new surroundings??
It’s nothing new. It’s one of the basics, if you’re an artist you carry a sketchbook, I have always had one. But in this completely new context of uprooting, it was a revelation. Until now I’d never really appreciated the power of a sketchbook. I had always had the time and space to think ideas and work on them, so before my sketchbooks where full of that. Now my head was like floating on a weird space, and I insist with this idea, that it was my hands that demanded pencil and paper if only to draw whatever was in front of my eyes, as if trying to hold on to something safe.
The beautiful thing about it is how simple it is. There’s something very private, very personal, in a way, about a small creative space you can carry everywhere. Even when you must leave your personal spaces behind (a room of one’s own). It’s a good exercise I’d strongly recommend to anybody trying to improve their skills and creativity. I think everybody should try this, even if they think they can’t draw (everybody can draw).
Now months have gone by, and that creative personal space is expanding slowly, it’s taking root and growing.
And as long as there’s a blank page, there’s hope.