Ok, so I have come to the realization that I was created to draw. Charcoal was made for my hand. I feel like part of me is missing when I look at my hands and and there's no charcoal dust in the cracks and crevices of my fingers. My brain hurts when I can't sketch out what I see inside the closets of my mind. How sad the world is when we get so caught up in doing life that we can't take a moment to enjoy it, to just play with a pencil...to feel the wood between your fingers...to watch your drawing take shape as your pencil glides across the rough paper. Who cares if it doesn't look like anything!
It's the process of drawing that's so exciting, not the finished piece. The journey of the pencil is what's important. That's what's fun.
And How much more exciting is it when you get to add the color! A whole new piece emerges! You created! Your fingers traced her frame...each line put in it's place. They don't talk back, they don't argue or complain. Each line works so beautiful with the next. Each line is important. Each line has a job to do, and performs so exquisitely.
My heart is elated at the thought of doing it all over again!