Take James Richards, for example, a sketch artist who draws vibrant, energetic scenes from his world travels that really capture the feel of a place. I took one of his online classes years ago, and for a few days, tried to draw in a similar style, but my lines weren’t as lively and my colors weren’t as vibrant.

Or there’s , an artist here on Substack whose work I’ve recently come to admire. He sketches real-life places populated by “tiny people”. I love his clean lines and deceptively simple creations that ignore distractions, honing in on the essence of a scene. I took a pass at Nishant’s style, too, but my lines were messier and I had trouble tossing out the non-essentials.

I could add other artists to this list. There’s Mike Lowery (shout out to another Atlanta Mike), an illustrator who draws in a simple, cartoonish style, with hilarious results. Or there’s Kevin Zych, an artist who uses continuous, gestural lines to document action-filled events like Chinese New Year parades and skateboard tournaments.

Sometimes, in my artistic imitations, I feel like a kid who’s come home from school, trying out new slang like “that’s cap” or “that’s fire” or calling my parents “bro”. If you have teenagers, you’ll be familiar with this slang.

Unfortunately, I’m not a kid anymore. Maybe that’s the lesson, though: in artistic endeavors, be like a kid. Not an obnoxious middle-schooler, though. Nobody likes middle-schoolers. Maybe more like an endearing three-year-old — stumbling around, making messes, full of zest for life. Hmm … three-year-olds have a lot in common with happy drunks.

The point is, I think it’s good to try on different artistic styles. Today, I might move from bold fountain pen lines to finer ballpoint detail. Tomorrow, I might go from a haphazard sketchbook spread to an orderly grid. Some days, I might feel the call of straight, simple lines. Other days, my sketches might be rambling and messy. I can do whatever I want! There, now I even sound like a three-year-old.

Maybe my style is whatever I want it to be in the moment. Or maybe it’s an ever-evolving, constantly receding destination. I’m sure if I looked at the body of work of artists I admire, their style hasn’t stayed fixed over the years.

One thing I do know is that I’m loving the journey of figuring it out, trying out different techniques, keeping what works for me, and leaving behind what doesn’t.

So stay tuned. My style is a work in progress. Like three-year-olds and happy drunks, or three-year-old happy drunks (a sad sight indeed), I can do what I want!

As I got back into drawing and sketching after a 20-plus-year gap, I changed my attitude toward junk mail. I started seeing all the expressive people and poses as potential references. One of my favorite things became arranging these catalog characters into various montages.

That’s what I did recently when I received a University of Georgia Arts catalog in the mail. This catalog had it all: violinists, aerial silk acrobats, graduates in caps and gowns, ballerinas. I did my best to capture their amazing expressions and contortions and put them down in pen and ink.

I ended up happy with the spread and also felt good that:

• I didn’t have to browse the internet and sit in front of a computer for references.

• I put something to use that otherwise would have gone straight to the recycle bin.

Through this process, I’ve started looking forward to finding these photo-filled flyers in my mailbox. They’ve even sparked some new ideas, like turning them into comic panels or dropping characters into totally out-of-context scenes. Sometimes, the limited images a catalog gives you are the best thing for getting creative.

But … in the spirit of Sketchbreak (drawing and sharing often, quality-or-lack-thereof-be-damned), I now present selections from my sketchbook. It’s a place where ink bleeds through the opposite page, where unpolished art lurks around every corner, where tutu-wearers and astronauts share space.

But it’s also a place where, amidst the mess, problems get solved, lessons are learned, and maybe, just maybe, a few creative seeds are sprinkled that will grow into something more.

Sharing your sketchbook might be uncomfortable

If it doesn’t make you cringe just a little to let someone flip through your sketchbook, then it might not be a real sketchbook … or you’re a robot. Either way, that’s cool. Even cooler if you’re actually a robot.

For me though, I always have to steel myself, and caveat the heck out of it, before revealing so much of my messy inner world.

Sketchbooks spawn strange bedfellows

What do a Yeti, a euphoric golfer, and a pearl-wearing horror movie character have in common?

Absolutely nothing.

But that’s what you’ll find on the sketchbook page below, because sketchbooks bring together odd bedfellows as new ideas pop up and find their way onto the page.

Mayhem dominates sketchbook spreads

In a real sketchbook, you might find a Sharpie doodle from the previous page bleeding through. You might find a color experiment gone wrong. You might even find every inch of available space filled with Capybaras.

The good part about sketchbooks

All of the above. I love the mess, the weirdness, the failed, ugly experiments. I love learning how to draw a smile in three-quarter view by repeating it thirty times or working out exactly how to simplify a bike while still making it recognizable.

A sketchbook allows all of this: chaos, repetition, mistakes, and ultimately, solutions.

And the best part is that it’s entirely yours. You don’t have to structure it like mine. You don’t need astronauts, or Capybaras, or mopeds. Your sketchbook might be cleaner and less chaotic, and that’s fine too. I know I talked about “real sketchbooks”, but I’m certainly not the arbiter of what constitutes “real.”

I just hope that your sketchbook is a place that encourages you to practice, make mistakes, and create something that makes you happy (sorry, a little too cheesy there).

As promised, here’s a gallery of pages from my sketchbook.

I started with the clock at 2 minutes per figure below, keeping a mostly continuous line while sketching from a video of Teddy Swims singing with a busker. With this time constraint, I’m not going for much of a likeness. I’m just trying to capture the overall feel of the scene.

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After Teddy (first name basis), I moved on to Adam Sandler singing at the Saturday Night Live 50th anniversary. Again, I set the time to 2 minutes. Maybe I could move the clock down to 1 minute, but I wasn’t feeling quite that confident. If you try this type of sketching constraint yourself, you’ll get a feel for how much time you want to allow.

I have so much fun with these timed sketches and am often happier with the result than I am with something I spend much more time on. They have a sense of immediacy and flow that I like.

And you can always come back and add watercolor, colored pencil, darker lines — whatever you decide — later on. That’s what I did in this timed sketch of a couple of dudes from pexels.com. For this one, I spent 2 minutes per figure on the sketch and then came back and added watercolor to one and colored pencil to the other.

There you have it. These timed sketches might not produce finished artwork, but they are great practice, and most importantly, they keep that nagging, negative voice quiet for a few minutes.

Try it out yourself and let me know how it goes. I’d love to hear about and see what you produce.

This morning, I was up around 5:30 a.m. No one else was awake except my dog and me. I opened my browser for some references. Netflix was on screen from the night before. I decided to draw the first preview square I saw with a specific technique — one with fewer curves and more angles, with my subject greatly simplified with a cartoonish vibe. I tend to fuss over details and overwork things, so I’m pushing myself to simplify and leave things out.

I was in the zone. But then, I heard telltale creakings from the floor above — the sign that someone else was awake! I groaned inwardly, and sure enough, my wife, whom I love very much and am almost always happy to see, came downstairs and started in on our agenda items and tasks: back-to-school clothes, oil changes, vet visits, etc. All very necessary things, but unbeknownst to her, I felt frustrated and resentful because I didn’t get the time that I needed.

She knew I was in a bad mood but didn’t know why. And I, in the interest of not wanting to feel like an asshole by asking for my own time, was acting like an asshole for real because I wasn’t getting what I needed.

Finally, after stewing for way too long, I got up the guts to ask for what I needed. I thought she might think I was being a total turd, but she was completely understanding and didn’t think that at all. She said she knew I was grumpy about something but didn’t know what it was, and was glad I had spoken up.

So, I got some time to myself to draw and to write this. And now I feel like I’ve accomplished something and can take on the responsibilities of the day without resentment.

I know this doesn’t seem big for some folks. Some have a perfectly easy time asking for what they need, but others of us — maybe those who are geared a little more toward people-pleasing — feel a strong sense of guilt for making these requests.

In the end, I’m so happy that I was able to set aside some time for drawing and sharing. And I don’t feel bad about it.

Back in the day, photo references were hard to come by. Now, thanks to the internets and sites like pexels.com and unsplash.com, you can search for pretty much any subject, from any angle, engaged in any action (safe for work) that you can think of. Need people walking? You got it. Three-quarter face views? Those are there too. People laughing? Yep. Old bearded dude sitting on a bench, holding a skateboard? Check.

Practice for live sketches

To me, possibly the best use of stock photo references is as practice before going out into the wild — to a festival, a farmers market, or a coffee shop — and attempting to capture the essence of a place and its people. After having drawn 100 people laughing from stock photos, suddenly it’s not so hard to sketch that cackling computer programmer in your local Starbucks.

That’s how I see stock photo sketches, not as an end in themselves, but as a means to getting better at capturing the real world.

As always, when I sketch, I try to focus on relaxing, having fun, and not capturing everything perfectly. I go for quantity and move quickly, lifting my pen from the page as little as possible.

And if you’re not happy with a particular effort, your sketchbook is a great place to try something over and over again. Remember, the goal of sketching isn’t perfection or finished artwork, necessarily. It’s about learning something each time and having fun while doing it.

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