These sketchbook pages are a ritual honoring my artistic self. Unplanned, beforehand they are just me and a black pen. No eraser and no contrived composition. Each page is just a poetic tangle of free-flowing creativity.  Certain botanical specimens make their appearance for the first time on these pages. This is their trying grounds. As I add new flora and fauna to my drawing vocabulary I try to recall their forms from memory. They’re never exacting anatomical representations, but the spirits of the things.

Every time I sit down to add more flourishes during these morning mediations, I reaffirm that I am creative. I don’t need to look elsewhere for inspiration, it’s already in me. 

Scroll to view the last five months of pages and comment to tell me your favorite detail below.

Where to next?