Some thoughts on the sketchbook
Even though I’ve been drawing since I could pick up a pen, I was 14 when I first dedicated myself to my first “real” sketchbook. I remember bringing it around with me everywhere I went - I would draw people in the train, friends at the cafe, songs that I would listen to on my iPod (thank you Pink Floyd). It was a period of experimentation, of time spent with myself. I didn’t have a “style” and I hadn’t decided what were my favourite tools or subjects, so I was voracious to observe the world around me and to keep the memories as visual recording on the blank page. I was starting to see myself as an artist, I was also figuring out what person I was and what I liked. I won’t say I’ve completely figured that part out, but I recall those days of excitement, the long hours spent by a table, earphones on, drawing the night away.
I’ve kept every single one of these sketchbooks as some of my most prized memories, and these would be the first objects I would pick up if my house caught on flames and I needed to save the important things.
However, busy life and a creative professional trajectory have transformed how I relate to these books. I was using my creative time to do work for clients or make pieces with the intent of making them public, and the creative tap would run out when it came to play and creation for myself. It’s pretty boring to grow old and forget how to play, and pretty urgent to remember it every now and then.
As I embarked on a big travel I knew one of the relationships I wanted to nurture the most was the one with my sketchbook. Encapsulate memories of this strange and magical time within the pages of a carefully selected notebook (small enough to be with me at all times, big enough to allow for exploration, light enough to carry, with heavy enough paper to handle different mediums and a bit of splashing gouache).
But as all important relationships go, they need time and care to become something we love. My first weeks I was out of love, the pages were turning out ugly, I couldn’t figure out what kind of memories I wanted to draw, what was important, how to keep my style while trying new things, I was pressuring myself to spend time on the page when it wasn’t flowing, I was precious about the space I was taking, disappointed that I was making bad work for posterity.
One day, I tried going on a sketchbook date with myself and I left with my portable gouache kit and a pencil to draw the colourful houses of San Cristóbal de las Casas in Chiapas, Mexico (the name was asking for it). And I had some fun. I sat down on the street, naked of shame as curious onlookers wondered what a some white girl was doing with her bag all scattered on the public ground. After, I went to a cafe and painted some of the sketches I had made. I finally created my first beloved spread. Later, a couple of friends joined me with musical instruments. The the view was beautiful and I decided that I could quickly take this moment and keep it in the pages, so I drew them as they played. That drawing took 20 minutes (compared to the full day of the previous page), and I remembered how I used to do this all the time, immortalise interactions in time, between beers and tea and important conversations, I had just forgotten that being in the moment also means being silent and drawing.
And that was the beginning of a beautiful love story I’ve been having with my travel sketchbook. I’ve drawn exquisite museum artifacts, ephemeral connections I’ve encountered along the way, information I’ve learned, poems that have resonated with me, objects that were too big to buy and bring in a backpack for the next few months, recipes that were cooked for me, deep and pseudo deep thoughts and conclusions, and the list keeps growing. Mostly I reconnected with play and removed the pressure of creating to share or sell. I also went back to the palpable page instead of just making digital art.
One year later, I filled all the pages. I started drawing on this sketchbook in December 2023 in Portugal right before my travels. I brought it along to México, Guatemala, Canada and the USA. And I finished it on December 2024, back home in my apartment in Lisbon, the day before heading off to the next big trip. A full circle moment.
I bought the exact same sketchbook and brought it with me to Brazil. Last year, I left home with a 70L backpack and two pencil cases full of pens and pencils, plus some material to paint and to carve. This time round, I’ve grown wiser and am traveling with a 40L bag and one pencil case. I’ve understood what are the essentials when traveling and I’ve seriously cut down on what I’m bringing with me (although I’m sad to leave behind the Tarot deck). Am I a real backpacker now?
The art essentials are as follows: a mix of Muji gel pens, a couple of Chinese ink brushes, a small ruler, a pencil and a rubber, some coloured brush pens, two coloured pens, a gouache kit and a brush case (which I also use for murals). One larger Kraft sketchbook for client work, one small square sketchbook for my own visual explorations.
And after crafting this book for myself, I’ve decided to share some pages. You can get a pretty accurate insight into my thoughts and feelings throughout this year of departures and arrivals. I hope you enjoy.
