Updated: Nov 29, 2021
My dad had a large wooden box that he made to hold his impressive amount of pencil and ink drawings. He had no intention of anyone else seeing them but (thankfully) he kept them safely tucked away. I always knew it existed and, not that it was forbidden, but rather that the contents of his box were only being kept for himself.
Although I don’t recall anything I did being very spectacular, as a young teen I did always aspire to be artistic. In comparison nothing I did met the standard of artistic ability that my dad and my brother had. I never stopped trying though. Good or bad some of my drawings would end up in a desk drawer instead of the trash.
I went through a phase of wanting to draw and design custom muscle cars, a phase of trying to draw cute cats and even a Greek mythology phase. The latter even sparked some creative writing. Very creative. I often wonder if having a good set of drawing supplies would have made a difference. In all honesty that is doubtful and it would have probably changed the ending. Besides that I have always loved a challenge. Sadly, as far as I know, none of these early creations left my desk drawer. Too bad I didn’t have a wooden box.
Having dabbled in various other artistic methods I always seemed to go back to the pencil. A while back I came across a handful of old drawings that I hung on to from several years later than my desk drawing days. They were crudely done with standard colored pencils while some were done with again just an ordinary number two pencil. The addition of color vs just pencil, and knowing the timing of them all is very interesting in retrospect. As I have written before, it is amazing how the art of the artist can so easily transform them to a completely different time: a different life.
These latter drawings had been put in page protectors and kept in an old paper box until eventually being put into in a small folder. At some point I guess I thought they deserved protecting although, like my dad, I never intended to show anyone anything that I ever did.
I’m not completely sure why that has changed but I do know that it involved, putting down the pencil and picking up a paintbrush.
The journey from my secret pencilings in a desk drawer to my many portfolios full and walls in my home full of whatever this is that I do now will forever puzzle me...and I couldn’t be happier about it.