Because I’m still walking with a crutch, because I broke my hip last year November, I can’t cycle.
I hate it. It’s to slow.
And of course I can’t walk very far. So I take the bus a lot.
I don’t like the bus either. Not only because it takes much more time to reach down town by bus then by bike. But also because it doesn’t take me to the place were I want to go.
So I have to walk even more.
On holidays I’ve walked through forests and past lakes and hated it. As always I felt that I was going to slow.
Although I like being in nature and looking at the beautiful trees or the water. I always feel that there should be better mode of transport.
I’d much rather climb into my Porse and race through the forest.
I just started a new doodle. Although it’s not really a quick sketch. This is probably going to be a very nice drawing. But it is going to take me a few days to finish it.
Just after starting it. Not yet knowing what it was going to be. I realized something about drawing.
I’ve never thought about what it is that I like about drawing. Am I interested in the process or in the result.
Do I draw because I want to reach a certain destination or because I like the journey.
Thinking about that I realized that I am wrong. I do like walking through nature and having a laugh with friends. I just never recognized the feeling.
I do like the feeling of the pencil sliding across the paper. I do like to watch and see how the white is slowly eaten by the color.
I don’t like the color selection.
But am finding that it really doesn’t matter that much. Whether I take a long time to decide which color to take or go by instinct. In the end I usually like the result.
I also like the result.
But not so much that I’m willing to speed through a drawing. And give up on the joy of drawing it first.
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