I've had a look through my old sketchbook today, the one that houses some of the images I am most proud of amongst all my creations. Some of these pictures are more than four years old, and now that I think about it, I haven't really drawn at all in the past two. Whenever I came across a good one, I found myself thinking, "did I really draw that?", immediately followed by "I could never do that today". Some of them are unfinished, and I am tempted to fill in the blanks... but I'm afraid to touch them. Too scared that I might ruin what I started.
There is a single last page left empty in that sketchbook that I have never had the courage to fill, for fear that it might not be perfect. For how could anything less do in the company of my oldtime favourites?
The irony is that I have held off buying a new sketchbook (after all, the old one isn't full yet) for ages now, so I carry this blank page around with me wherever I go, and when I feel like drawing I stare at it instead, paralysed by my own expectations. I am used to spending hours infront of an empty sheet trying to decide what I'm going to draw by now. The more painful sort of art block is knowing exactly what you want to draw, but being unable to. I have an entire backlog of ideas, visions I want to put to paper, but I feel I lack the abilities and the talent to do them justice.
So this is the sad truth about why I have hardly uploaded any drawings in several years. This has been going on for a long time now, but I have just today found the means to put it into words.