One of my friends once told me that if she drew the way I did, she'd kill herself. Only, she didn't actually say that, but for some reason I hyperbolized it in my mind. I guess these words really affected me, and I began to be more conscious about the way that I sketch. The drawings in my sketchbook have often turned out to be very tidy and finished little doodles, and my line work has become increasingly sure of itself over the years to the point where everything feels like a big smile kept in place too long; tight and painful.
For months I was at a stalemate. I didn't like the way anything was turning out, and if I did like something I would obsessively keep drawing it in a very formulaic and boring way. Then one day not so long ago I was at a diner with some artistic friends and I challenged everyone to draw the same kid-style drawing, but with their 'wrong' hand. Being left-handed, I drew it with my right. As I was sketching it out I remembered that I actually can draw with my right hand. Only, it's a completely different experience and aesthetic. When I draw right-handed I feel like there is a disconnect in my brain. It somehow triggers my mind to go half blank, which is a rather pleasant sensation. Also, my lines are far more soft, unpredictable and unsure. It's a lot of fun.
So here are the results from the last few weeks. Some cartoony, some more realistic. I don't think I'll be drawing with my left hand anytime soon. Next step for me is to start painting right-handed.
So many words for an art blog, phew.
