#22

The thing about drawing

is you get to be lucid about the details

or, at the very least, be vivid.

So the most intricate, minute detail should always—

always be readily in your eye, your mind, your judgment.

You start with silly lines.

A box, if you have to.

Then a sphere.

Then you draft layers of infinite detail.

With rough sketches and erasure,

you start to form pictures—ideas of sort,

the very image you see.

The first try won’t make sense.

The next still won’t.

But to you, it does.

Seriously, it actually does.

But only you can see it.

Then you add flaws,

things which make it resemble who or what you want to draw.

Be it a tiger you saw on TV

or the fat dog you’ve been meaning to rub the tummy of,

the neighbor you greet before work—

oh, the chubby, chunky flab of a fat dog.

But let’s not get sidetracked.

Then you start drawing faces.

At first, they look like random, unreal people.

Then, maybe, like the animated hero you saw on TV.

Then, out of nowhere, you draw a friend.

You show it to them.

You start laughing together—

this is why we draw.

Then you draw more.

Learn more.

Maybe make better drawings.

You show it to your lover.

They get amazed.

You get praised—

this is also why we draw.

You keep drawing until, like poetry,

you’ve added movement.

More to see.

You’re no longer drawing posing figures.

You’re making moving, breathing, living creatures, beings, places, moments.

Then you realize one thing—

this is why I draw.

And yet…

it doesn’t stop there.