Scene from a new story taking shape about a gang of abalone smugglers who run into trouble.
It’s been three and a half years, but two days ago I made a drawing again. It bothered me that so much time had passed without producing any new work. As time went by I became increasingly hard on myself for not having the discipline and mental stamina to sit down and make a start. Doubts started surfacing: would I even know what to do when I picked up a pencil again?
So on Sunday I got to work. It was hard going at first. Sitting still can be difficult. But after two hours or so I became calm. I guess it’s what you’d call getting into the ‘flow’. Experiencing the flow is one of the reasons I make illustrations. It doesn’t bother me that some of them take a lot of time to make.
So when I was in this state of flow the past three and a half years replayed itself with a clarity that I don’t have in the day-to-day busyness. This is what I had been through: changed company four times, moved house five times, rebuilt one house, had a child, changed countries, and both my parents passed away.
In that moment of clarity I was thankful for the ability to sustain the love of drawing when life becomes too complicated to find time and stillness. And I’m grateful to myself for the time and dedication that I’ve put into the art of drawing, knowing that when the time comes the flow will always be there.