Visiting my mother this weekend I found an old sketchbook of mine in the back of a closet. Most of the pieces are from summer of ’96 to some time in ’98, corresponding to my senior year of high school and freshman year of college.
The drawings are not bad. Much better than I could do today. It is the last sketchbook I ever owned. For reasons that now escape me, I stopped drawing sometime in 1998 or 1999.
I did occasional still life drawings, like these daffodils:
Below is a woodland flower. I don’t know what they are called but I can recognize the species, they are fairly common:
But for the most part it seems like I was interested in people. Needless to say, girls figured heavily.
The drawing below started out as a take on Leonardo’s Virgin and Child with St Anne but ended up as a friend from school.
Here is the original:
There are is one attempt at a drawing post 1998, a niece wanted me to do some illustrations for a short story she was writing for school and I sketched a thing or two… and didn’t finish.
I hit a depression sometime after my freshman year of college, dropped out of school, and got a job at a factory, which was probably the best thing for me the time. Even in this sketchbook there is a lot of sadness brewing. No one besides my friend above looks particularly happy.
After a year or so I started to develop new ambitions and projects (most of which were stupid, but hey) and left drawing aside. Why? I guess I was too busy or something.
I don’t mind admitting that I am not physically capable of drawing like that anymore, but it feels strange: who was that kid? Where did he go?