FULL MANY A MEDIOCRE SKETCH LAY UNUSED*
This is a small “project” of mine. It began form my failed attempt to give my workspace the semblance of order. As usual, I began the task very motivated, for about five minutes or so, and then time seemed to stretch out like a turtleneck on an elephant.
While taking an old notebook to its new home on the shelves, I decided to open it ’just to take a little peek’. I have a love-hate relationship with old notebooks. There is, of course, a pleasure in looking at what you wrote or drawn in the past. Some of this pleasure is due to the content itself, and some is more meta, namely seeing how you’ve grown as ____ (insert job title – illustrator/writer etc.) and as a person. That said, it’s also hard not to see the faults I had back then and be reminded of the many I still have now. I might have tried to become ‘better at’(or just ‘better’), but maybe I haven’t worked hard enough as I should have. As you surly know yourself, this line of thought can easily turn into self castration of creativity.
Wanting to be methodical in the process of procrastination, I’ve started to look at other notebooks, seeing desecrated sketches, many only partially drawn that I haven’t done anything with, nor shown to anyone. Little by little, a silly idea started to formulate. I’ve gathered some of my sketches, some old some newer, some I drew with various pens, some in Photoshop or in Procreate. And here we are…
The following is a compilation of some of the drawing (not all made the cut) composited and curated without much rhyme or reason. I’ve added some visuals, explanations & takeaways on how one might do a better job that I have done here.
Sorry for the long epilogue, I might have exceeded the normal text’s length associated with this format, I hope you don’t feel like I’ve wasted your time. And If you do, here is a semi-cute drawing of a fish:
*The title of the project is a paraphrase of a verse in ‘An Elegy Written In A Country Churchyard’ a poem by Thomas Gray:
“Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathom’d caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flow’r is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”