why I draw, and why I wobble
I have an enthusiastic view of the world, albeit one based a precariously wobbly stool balanced in front of the world’s most beautiful buildings.
They don’t have to be grand, just wondrous.
Whilst it’s fun to capture the Blue Mosque cascading down its own steep hill in Istanbul, there is a special delight in the humbler, more agricultural Seed Merchant in Frome. And it’s much cheaper to get there!
Luckily the world abounds with such places, and I do my best to render them with my ever so slightly eccentric pen and ink drawings. Everyone asks, so I’ll save you the effort, NO I don’t use photographs. Nor pencil guide lines or erasers or rulers. Just splat, straight onto the paper. (Splat may be an over simplification but I’m not one for pretentions).
Wandering the world, looking, that’s a great job. Squinting at impressive lumps of architecture, walking backwards to frame the view, yes, I do attract a certain amount of quizzical attention. But everywhere I draw, the people are fantastic, intrigued and excited. Drawing just slices through any language barrier, and the sketchbook is like a go anywhere passport, deep into the roughest quarters, the streets you wouldn’t usually dare enter, that’s where the friendliest welcomes await. Take a camera and you’re a tourist, take a pen and you’re shown a bit of respect.