We are not here to make pretty drawings in perspective

the role of the artist in the broken world

New readers, hello! Whether it was Aspen Ideas or Sketcher Fest, or if you found this newsletter by entirely other means, I am glad you are here. Say hello in the comments? Email me? I love to hear from you.

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The commute home.

Dear reader,

I promise I did not plan to say this thing.

My artist-talk on Day 2 of Sketcher Fest was titled - The BYOB Approach to Travel Sketching (BYOB in this case meaning, Bind Your Own Book). It was about the sense of play I have recently incorporated into my sketchbook habit - binding custom sketchbooks, and inserting fold-out sections, pop-up art, & sliding tabs. I would speak about making art for play, and paper-craft as a supplement of visual creativity. But I went astray. Maybe because I never script my talks, or rehearse what I will say. I just start talking?

That morning, I woke up, got ready, and went downstairs for the breakfast buffet. On my phone, over bread and eggs, I searched for “Mary Oliver poems”. I did not know what I was looking for, but I needed something as direction for the day.

This was the third search result on the page:

Link

Reader, many years ago, on a sun-drenched morning off the coast of Montenegro, a Russian scuba-instructor taught me a valuable life lesson. If I close my eyes, I can still see that moment. I am a dozen feet underwater, struggling to hold my position, flapping flippered-feet, waving arms about wildly, breathing hard. I look up at the glittering surface of the water and suddenly I am consumed by the knowledge that, even so close to the surface, I could easily die right now. I am out of my element, flailing. I see the scuba-instructor then, floating a few feet above me, completely still. His legs are crossed, his hands resting on his knees in the meditative posture. He breathes deeply, his chest expands, and he ascends a few feet. Slowly, he exhales, and his chest contracts, and he descends a few feet. I recall what he had said when we were walking to the water in ungainly fashion in our scuba suits, carrying heavy oxygen cylinders. To be in control, you have to give up the illusion of control.

I was on a solo vacation across Europe right before leaving for the US, having quit my PhD program in the Netherlands to lead this new life you know me for. And this is how I picked up the most important rule to being an artist. To be moved by the currents of the world over which you have little control. To allow your body to turn. To lose the sure footing, and not seek it anymore. To surrender to waves and the waves beneath waves, to currents and the currents beneath currents. To breathe.

So I let the poem move me. I turned with its currents and, later that afternoon, I said some things I needed to say.

I am glad for the people who take notes!

Reader, because it is a serious thing just to be alive, we are not here to make pretty drawings in perspective.

The job of the urban sketcher is bigger than that. In a distracted society, we are here to bear witness. We are here to pay attention. Attention paid over time, is what the poets call love. Attention spread across time, is what philosophers call being alive. Attention as the product of time, is what quantum physicists describe as the essential nature of reality.

Buy the zine

Vulnerability is strength. Honesty is the only virtue. Your self on the page is the only reliable indicator of artistic value in the broken world. Because the artist has an important role in society, if society is to function properly. The role of the artist is to clarify what is beauty in confusing times.

It could mean something
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.

(I no longer blame myself for unexpected tangents, but the people who keep inviting me to speak at things.)

💌 On popular request, I am offering limited, signed copies of this zine (shipping only within North America)

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Big Small Talk

Sketcher Fest was a great opportunity to get face-time with people who love my work on social media, this newsletter, and the SneakyArt Podcast. Every interaction was special and, if you are reading this, please say hello in the comments! 👋🏼

Unlike the previous times I have attended though, this year we also had a lot of time and opportunity to interact with other Guest Artists. Over cola and beer and gin & tonic, over salads and burgers and flatbreads, we spoke about the business of being an artist of the broken world. We spoke about

• existing vs exploding on social media, and what either option costs in time, energy, and annoyance

• chopping our art into bits of content for the algorithmic gods to judge

• the role of art in authoritarian times

• imposter syndrome and living with it

• whether a culture of neoliberal consumerism leaves room for revolution

I have few opportunities to talk about these things in Vancouver, so I am glad that Gabi Campanario brings my drawing heroes to this corner of the world every year. I make the most of it.

At a rest stop, driving back to Vancouver.

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• I am doing two workshops in Edmonds (WA) next month. These will be my last in-person sessions this summer. Folks in and around the area, grab a seat (or two): Building a Spiral of Curiosity | Drawing Tiny People

• My next open studio (July 31) is now a two-person collaboration with the amazing MiMOKO Ceramics. Monique is a wonderful ceramics artist who has her studio in the same place as me. This year, both of us are exploring new directions in our respective works. Drop by to see a lot of new things. Also, we are officially (secretly) working on a piece together!

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📫 SneakyArt Mail Club

This month’s zine to paying subscribers is a Workbook for People Watching. If you are a paying subscriber interested in getting physical zines from me every month, email me your mailing address. If you are a free reader, grab this offer to become a paying subscriber, then email me your mailing address.

The Zine of July

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Thank you for reading. I am so glad to have a space in your inbox.

The SneakyArt Post is a newsletter of secretly drawn art of the world. I share the best pages from my sketchbook, and the best ideas from my journey as an artist and writer.