Putting the Phone Down to Sketch

This post is going to be a beauty. Once again, I have replicated something plain and simple, (or as Chris Delia would say, "S'plain an' simp") and rebranded it as something new and worthwhile despite its apparent obviousness.

I can only promise you that I have thought this one out. I considered not once, but twice, about just keeping this to myself as my own little hobby (that I hardly do), and reaping the benefits in my own unique way.

However, the better angels of my nature told me to share this little diddy, and if it unsuccessfully fell on the ears of ungrateful mortals than so be it. At least my conscious would be clear.

What I'm referring to is sketching. Not sitting down in your room and trying to draw a portrait of your cat Steve. I'm talking about taking your pen and pad up into the mountains, down into the canyon, across the country to the skyscrapers East. I'm advocating that instead of taking a trip to the beach waterfalls of Big Sur to snap of quick pic for Instagram, one that is common place to the data of the internet, you look upon the landscape, with 'fresh eyes', and try to sketch it into a journal.

Since you are unconvinced, I will take the liberty of persuading you to give this a shot. I apologize in advance if I offend (although I already called you an ungrateful mortal).

Your first objection is that you are a terrible artist. Which is 95% accurate. Fortunately, sketching isn't that difficult, and it's the process not the product that counts.

The second objection: you don't have time. I'm not going to rant, but slowing down could be beneficial. Traveling to a spectacular view, or interesting location, just to rush off, seems to be contradicting your purpose of going in the first place.

The third—and no doubt worse objection—that you won't be able to share it, remember it, or see it as clearly unless you take a picture. Dear friend, your understanding is flawed. One of the first things you notice when you sit down to sketch is that, now, as opposed to 15 seconds ago, you're actually paying attention! You're not just looking, you're really mapping this landscape, down to small details because you need to find a way to replicate it on the page.

You begin to notice small things, mountains in the distance that frame the focal point, the plants around your feet, your own boots, other people (they are so weird), changing colors of trees and rocks through the elevations. Is this what people mean when they talk about mindfulness? I certainly think so.

Do you think that you would be able to verbally share this new experience? How the landscape ACTUALLY looked when you examined it. Forget the sketch, you tapped into something deeper. How do you think this will affect your memory? Your sketch looks terrible but every line you put on it corresponded to something you really noticed. Put a frame around that and hang it in your office—you won't—but that sketch is truly one of a kind, and it's unique to you.

You might think, "Well this isn't anything new, people have been painting landscapes for centuries. My cousin is a artist, she does this all the time." All of that is true. I've already consented to jeers and criticism. However, whenever I'm wielding a pen and journal, as opposed to my iPhone (which I still use the overwhelming majority of the time) I feel like I get a little more out of the experience than just another picture.

However, I do still take a lot of pictures. Perhaps photograph twice and sketch once.

I sketched the last hike I went on in the series Hiking from the Coachella Valley. Below is a sketch I made in a journal from Rainbow Rock Canyon.

See? It doesn't have to be a masterpiece. It just has to be something.