I remind myself that I deserve to use the good paper
a sneakyart drop for your inbox
Dear reader,
Creativity is regenerative. The more you use it, the more you have. Creativity does not sit quietly inside its own box. It insists upon spilling onto everything else. Every day, as I chip away at my creative block, I cannot help the existential questions. Why, my mind asks, why are we doing this? I try not to answer because answers are only word-games. And I want to stay away from words right then. But when I allow myself to lean back and run my eyes over the table-top, the words come charging back. The questions, always, and different kinds of answers.
The shapes fit inside one-inch squares. It takes me almost half an hour to draw, transfer, carve, test, clean, test again, before cutting away the negative spaces.
What I am left with is a kind of icon. When I hold it in my palm and consider an empty sheet of paper, it is not so different from holding a pen. But this pen can only make one kind of shape, in one kind of way, at one size, again and again.
What can an icon say by itself? What can it say in repetition? What can it say via patterns? Do neat rows say anything? Does a sudden deviation suggest? What does colour do?
I am suddenly conversing with myself in a different language. Words do not work here either. There is shape and form, but also abstraction. Sharp definition multiplies into hazy shapes. How do I feel about this shape or that? I try a dozen ideas on my cheapest paper. I try another half-dozen on my good paper.
I remind myself that I deserve to use the good paper.
Inking is an art too. You can smudge the page if you are not careful. The inch-long icon can slip between inky fingers. You can over-ink the block and flood the finer cuts. There are many human errors to think about.
I let some words in. I recall that not all mistakes are bad. We need more humanity in art and sometimes a mistake is just humanity leaving its mark. Since I do not know what I am doing, a mistake is as good a way to find out as any other.
I let the words in again when I am done for the day. I let them tell me what each piece should be called. I try to rationalize the titles. Do they fit? Do they have to? Do they describe? Do they invoke an effect?
💡 Read: Five reasons why in last week’s post.
💻 Another sketchbook is about to finish. I will flip through its pages at this month’s Insider Hangout. Become a SneakyArt Insider to get the invite in your inbox. If you are already a paying subscriber, catch the link in last week’s post.
💌 February’s Insider Giveaways went in the mail this week. 18 envelopes are headed to different parts of the US, Canada, UK, Australia, and Germany, with signed bookplates, tiny-people stickers, and a couple of linocut prints inserted randomly. The next giveaway is at the end of this month.
🙌🏽 [Watch] this short retrospective on the work of Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiorastomi. And, [listen] to this beautiful song by a favourite musician, Ibrahim Maalouf.
Thank you for reading. I hope this post did good things for your inbox. This newsletter is an independent publication of secretly drawn art of the world. Help it grow by sharing it with someone who might enjoy it too.
I love your little linoprints Nishant. Something about that wavy line of cars across the paper and the beautiful video of Ibrahim Maalouf playing that tune Beirut made me cry. But it takes nothing to make me well up in tears these days. I have been following your journey and love what you have been doing.
Your style translates very well to the linocut stamp!