15-9-2021 (Im)patience blossom
Roughly I scratched the face away. “This is really nothing at all,” I said with a deep sigh. It was a relief for a moment to draw thick strokes with my pencil across the portrait that had been pulled completely out of shape. I was bummed that I had "ruined" my sketchbook with such an ugly drawing. I kept scratching and scratching, until something special slowly emerged.
In February I started an illustration course. Until recently, I only drew on vacations. I picked a flower and drew it. The first drawing of a blackbird received a lot of reactions from friends and family. “Hey, how good.” “How cleverly made.” And I could see myself it was quite good. I even wondered if I could eventually combine it with my current way of working, with my textile plants, poems and stories.
From that moment on, my fanatical side completely burst at the seams. With the eagerness of newborn blackbird smelling its mother with food, I threw myself into the courses. I surrendered to practice, practice again, and create daily. I took even more online courses with new techniques. I trained my hand the shapes, the lines of the object I was drawing. I threw my whole heart and soul into it. I soon became frustrated. I repeated myself, kept drawing the same thing and it didn't get any better. Creating was no longer inspiring. I was disappointed and eventually blocked drawing. I kept staring at blank white sheets or just scratching away.
I shared my work with a friend asking where I could improve. Her practical tips barely entered my head until she said softly: “I miss you in the drawings”. Bam, full in my face, this comment came in. She missed the typical Miranda sensibility, that style by which I can be recognized. This sweet friend showed me how strong I was in coming up with my own stories and concepts. And she missed that in my illustrations.
Now I understood why I had become so insecure and frustrated. All my attention was focused on the end result. I was like a blossom and already wanted to be a pear. I forgot there is a very long process before pears are edible. The ripening process takes a long time. And for that to mature, love and attention is needed. No rush. But above all individuality. Feeling where I may be, my own unique contribution. My flow, my love. She was right. In my quest to become a peer, I had flown in all directions. I tried to emulate every illustrator I adored. But I forgot to undergo my most important process, which is to grow myself.
I decided to let go of the urge, started sketching again on loose sheets when I felt sense and space. Collected inspiration in my own way by making mood boards. And slowly a picture arose about how and which story I wanted to illustrate. And in what style. Which I delve into at my own pace by practicing and creating.
And those scratches on that face? Later a beautifully shaped pear was created there. Ready to pick.