Old Sketch Books
Some artists are religious about their sketchbooks. I’ve never been that disciplined. I wish I had their dedication, because a sketchbook provides a snapshot not captured any other way. Just a few days ago, when I had the idea to keep a virtual sketchbook, I came across one of my few sketchbooks from 1998.
It’s a strange book. I drew the entire thing while working on the phone for a national bank. If you’re ever talking to a bank rep and it sounds like they are doing something else - well, they probably are. There are account numbers everywhere in the thing. So much for security. Stranger’s names. Addresses. All mixed in with bizarre doodles in ballpoint pen. Some pages are definite attempts to demonstrate skill, to solve how to render some facial feature. Other pages seem only to entertain the right brain while the left brain is telling an old lady why she’s charged $30 for every overdraft. Forget the fact her social security check doesn’t come in for another week. Ah yes, I still remember those days.
And then there’s my budget. I actually projected optimistically a net income of $105.
I seemed content with a $9.50 an hour job. There’s a list of expenses I could count on both hands, right next to an old man with a walnut in one eye, and tears streaming down every crease in his face.I planned on being an artist. My goal for April - complete a business plan. Nearly eight years later, I’m still working on the artist part. And my business plan is about as far along. I guess that’s what makes sketchbooks interesting. It’s less about what you thought you were including, and more how your life was at a specific point in time, how it manages to become conjoined with the doodles and drawings put down thoughtlessly on the page. While I’ve included a couple of pages don’t worry - all account numbers are gone.
