Seeing, risking . . .

From All I Do Is Dream . . .

"I remembered the time when I used to draw and paint. I don’t do that anymore. But there was a time when I was absolutely addicted to it. Poster colours, oil-based colours were a rage with pro’s, but I never fancied them. My favourites were water colours. My constant and faithful companion was Camlin’s 12 colour plate. The colours came in as crisp dry circular discs fitted in 12 different circular holes in the metallic compass-box kind of structure. The height of all gifts was a Camlin colour box. I would sit with them, a brand new brush that came with the box, and a katori full of water in the courtyard and paint. No pencilling the outline. Just flickering the brush over a paper. For hours together.

The colours would soon lose their individuality as they would trickle into each other. On paper as well as in the colour plate. The most colourful one would be white, showing traces of all the others. The solid disc would in time, turn into a ring and slowly the ring would break into small parched pieces. And I would start bothering everyone for a new box."


One of my favourite thinkers is Michael Leunig, an Australian cartoonist with real wit. He says that most people stop drawing when they are children, but he didn't. At an Art Festival in Auckland, a little girl asked him why he hadn't stopped. He turned it around and asked her if she draws. "Yes, I do!" He said emphatically, "Don't stop. Keep drawing!"

It's the childlike eyes and the wonder of it all that engage us, I believe.
When we stop drawing, do we stop seeing, imagining, risking?

See The Laurel Tree if you'd like inspiration or ideas on supplies