Drawing From Experience

DOCUMENTING TRAVEL THROUGH SKETCHES

A few years ago I was visiting a friend who had just returned from a whirlwind planes-trains-and-automobiles-type vacation. On a previous trip, this same friend had packed a sketchbook and documented his travels with markers and watercolors in lieu of taking a camera.

Flipping through his sketches, I remember thinking that I was getting a glimpse of the trip that I would never have been able to see through photos alone. He took the time to find drawable details like unintentional still lifes, imagined bird’s eye views of parks and streets and instructional illustrations on topics like the operation of a particularly quirky gas stove in a rented flat. In doing so, he encapsulated a tiny bit of the experience of his trip, rather than just capturing how it looked.

Sadly, on this latest excursion, he left the sketch pad and pens behind and decided to focus all of his efforts on photography alone. And that’s exactly what I was shown – beautiful, colorful and skillful photos… that were tediously boring in comparison.

Using a camera is too easy. That’s not to say that great photography can’t be spectacular to look at – because great photographers know how to capture and tell a story. For the rest of us, the camera becomes a visual note taker. Usually, the notes simply read, “I saw this.”

I’ve kept this in mind over the years and have made an effort to draw or paint at least a few times on vacations and, when possible, on business trips. I’ve even planned trips with drawing and painting in mind (see my post on Monhegan Island here), and even tried leaving camera and pad behind completely. Cryptic and scattered postcards, it turns out, do not withstand the test of time.

I’ve found that I remember the details of places and things I’ve drawn far more so than those that I’ve only photographed.

Years after a trip to Appollonia on the Greek island of Sifnos, I can recall the particulars of a load of freshly washed laundry, hung just out of reach over a narrow and winding street. A blue-domed church stood unassumingly beyond it at the top of a hill. One afternoon, I sat in a shady doorway and drew this quaint but otherwise forgettable place for about five minutes.

Because I took the time to really look at and sketch the details of the street, I remember specifically two blue shirts, a pair of well-worn underpants and a pillowcase with a faded pink flower pattern.

On the other hand, details of my accommodations on the island (where I stayed for over a week) exist only in photographs. Maybe it’s a matter of selective memory, but I personally hold on to visual details best when I’ve taken the time to commit them to lines and strokes on paper.

On a recent trip to Portugal, I made a point, once again, to sketch in conjunction with taking photos. Despite the fact that I draw something for storyboards and random graphic elements almost every day, I don’t sketch nearly as often as I once did purely for pleasure. Like my traveling friend, I’ve found it all too comfortable to simply point a camera and shoot. Voilà, instant memories.

For my trip, I purchased a new Moleskine drawing pad, mostly because I like the feel and quality of the paper, but also because I appreciate its design and construction and thought I’d be more likely to want to use it and pull it out from time to time afterwords.

The first few lines on its pristine pages were the hardest to complete – so I skipped ahead several pages, intending to return to the front of the pad after a little practice. I also set a time limit of five minutes for each drawing in order to not get overly fussy about details – and spent closer to one or two minutes on most.

Sketches one and two were pretty terrible. In fact, none were great, just slightly more than doodles. It didn’t matter – they were for my use only, not necessarily to be seen by anyone else and certainly not for a project or with any client in mind.

In a few years I’ll pull my sketches out and remember what I was thinking, the time of day, weather, colors and smells around me when I drew them. Having these experiences is exactly why I like to travel. Revisiting them through old sketchbooks is like finding money you left in your suitcase – it’s the type of totally welcome surprise you wish you’d have more often.

© Markus Horak, 2010

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