Taking advantage of a few unscheduled hours, I decided to go through some supplies and attempt to make more room in my home/studio space, attempt being the key word. I was however fortunate enough to make some progress: assess my materials, put things in some semblance of organization, and make a goal list of things to slowly acquire.
As I worked, a rather large stack of sketchbooks began to accumulate in my dining room. I think I just didn’t notice how many I have because they were all over the house: the dining room; the bedroom; the car; my bag; the basement; on the stairs; etc. I picked up one of the sketchbooks from the nearest stack and began leafing through. This particular book was from nearly a decade ago. Just considering that amount of time is a little daunting, how things changes, how I have changed.
These books mean so much to me, its almost like looking through a photo album; when I look at a sketch/entry I can see where I was and sometimes remember what I was feeling. There were entries that noted feedback from peers and teachers while others contained had my own thoughts. Another book contained a quick note jotted down after a meeting with one of my mentors. He was the first to encouraged me to make the leap and switch my field of study. At the time I was working on my Associates and I was already turning this idea around, but kept trying to convince myself that I would be happier sticking with what I was doing. To this day I cannot understand why I would think dental hygiene was a good fit for me, I was waist deep in denial. That person holds a special place in my heart and I think of him often.
As I looked through these books, I can see when my work took shifts in growth and interest, how I was growing into my role. These sketchbooks have really become more than just a place to hold my musing, thoughts, and drawings, they chronicle of my life.