Sketching At 75 MPH


I love sketching on road trips.  Especially when we’re zooming down the highway at 75 MPH, the clouds are playing tag across the desert sky and we got the tunes blasting on high.

For me, sketching is all about catching the essence. Locking down the feeling. Moving through the experience with my hands orchestrating what my heart and eyes are synergizing together.

I gave up aiming for perfection or capturing exactly what I’m seeing lifetimes ago.  That stuff doesn’t really matter to me anymore.

I prefer to peal back the surface and scratch at the fascia of existence.

So give me your worst, your failures, your fuck ups and embarrassing mistakes.  Pour the wrong shade of green over your canvas and kiss it with your fat fingertips.  Spill your guts into your art journal on a Saturday night when your ex is off dancing. Play for me your favorite sad song on repeat again and again and again.

Or just show up and be you.

Stop pretending.  Stop trying.  Stop believing that there is something else you need to do/be/have/say.

This is your art we’re talking about, not some formal pleasantries.

And you know exactly what I know.

Everything you make is sacred, even when life is passing you by at 75 MPH.

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