Sketchbooks: why am I a maker?
There is a confusion of parts: all gods are untrustworthy but what I can touch I know to be real.
I look closely, smell the air and draw. I use fast marks, colour if there is time. A sketch is part of a process; it is an attempt to remember what I saw, not a final statement.
My sketchbooks are not pretty.
The sketches are maps, a layout of possible routes to an understanding of things.
If I hold a stone fragment, my eyes scan a cliff; a pool of salt water the tide left, is an ocean reflecting a sky more blue than I can dream. My sketches are these tokens, found on the route to a pot or a painting.
Life is a confusion of parts, but what I can touch I know to be real.