“Drawing is the discipline by which I constantly discover the world.”
– Frederick Franck
When I started sketching three years ago, it was to help me remember the places I visit as I travel.
It was a way of slowing down and paying more attention (both of which I desperately needed to do). And the marvelous thing is that it worked, practically right from the beginning. I can still vividly picture scenes from the very first countries I sketched in – scenes from Portugal and Croatia, India and Nepal – and can describe some of the sensory details and impressions I still have from each place.
I can tell you about the pastel-colored homes that line the main harbor on the Croatian island of Dugi Otok; about the metallic rhythm echoing out of workshops near Hyderabad’s Charminar monument, as men hammered sheets of warq, or silver foil, to a papery thinness; and about the view from a rooftop restaurant in Kathmandu, where I sketched the palaces and pagoda temples in Durbar Square and watched handmade kites swoop and soar over the city in celebration of the Dashain Festival.
In each place, sketching was a means of making transient moments eternal – of freezing them into memories that that only seem to grow stronger over time.
For whatever reason, though, sketching also became exclusively linked to traveling for me. Whenever I got back from a trip, my sketchbook was put away nearly as soon as my backpack was, and my watercolor paint kit and brushes would often lay dormant until the next adventure as well. It never occurred to me to take the awareness that sketching creates and turn it to a place I was calling home.
Until I arrived on Salt Spring, that is.
I still remember the morning the shift happened.
I’d been at the yurt for about two weeks, and there was still snow on the ground from the freak snowstorm that struck the island the same day I arrived. I was standing at the kitchen sink, filling the percolator with water for that day’s first cup of coffee, while mentally planning the photos I wanted to take for a post introducing you to my circular abode. And that’s when the thought hit me:
What if I sketched the yurt instead?
It’s strange to admit how big a revelation it seemed at the time – this idea of sketching somewhere I was living, and not just passing through momentarily. And what I found during the process of drawing my temporary home on Salt Spring was that I loved it.
I loved that the process was almost exactly opposite to travel sketching. On the road, you have nothing to compare each moment to; at home, you have an infinite number of moments that resemble each other. I loved sifting through the many pieces that make up the puzzle of each day in the yurt and singling out the key scenes and details I wanted to convey. It felt like a challenge to distill life into its most concentrated form – to try and strike at the essence of things.
I turned next to a walk I take as often as possible here, to a nearby stretch of coastline called Burgoyne Bay. Again, the task set before me was to break down a repeat experience into a few singular moments; again, I loved the challenge more than I expected to.
And so this week, it only felt right that I sketch another key piece of my Salt Spring routine – my weekly jaunt into a little town called Ganges.
Ganges is the largest community on Salt Spring – which itself is only about 17 miles long and home to 10,000 people. The village has two supermarkets, two pharmacies and a hospital, a handful of banks, bakeries, and bars, a print shop and stationery store, and a few other establishments you might not expect to find – a gelato shop, a sushi restaurant, a Mexican food truck called El Loco Taco.
Once a week, I stand at the end of my driveway and flag down the squat white bus on its bi-hourly run from one end of the island to the other. My main objective is always to stock up on groceries from Thrifty’s, but I’ll often treat myself to a mocha at a café or a cider in the pub or a slice of pepperoni from Pomodoro Pizza, and then every couple of weeks, I’ll lug a bag full of laundry with me.
My first time in Mrs. Clean’s, I got to chatting with the laundromat’s lovely owner Leah, and another customer named Donna. Donna and her husband live on a sailboat moored not too far off the island, and every morning, he brings her into town on their plastic dinghy so she can start her shift at the supermarket. We talked about life on Salt Spring, and about life on a sailboat, and about life in a yurt, and after giving me a quick lesson on how to use the dryer, Donna said something I’ll never forget.
She wished me luck with my writing and sketching, and then, as the machines rumbled to life behind us, she said, “I think you’re going to love it here. I think you’re going to thrive.”
Moved by her insight, I thanked Donna and told her that I thought I would too, and that indeed I could sense I already was. And yet, out of all the projects and possibilities that have unfolded here these last two months, do you know what I’m most grateful for? That I’ve had to buy more sketchbooks from the stationery store, and that I’m having to refill my paint box every few weeks instead of every few months, and that all of the drawing pens I brought with me are nearly bone dry.
I know I won’t ever lose my love for sketching faraway places – but for now, I’m grateful to be turning my sketchbook’s attention (and my own) to views a little closer to home.
PS – The second issue of our Serendipity’s Sketchbook newsletter is officially out on Thursday! If you haven’t had a chance to sign up for it yet, you can do so here or click on the image below.
“It never occurred to me to take the awareness that sketching creates and turn it to a place I was calling home.”
I love that you’ve turned your eye to your Salt Spring “home”. INMO, it’s what artists do so well: see the extraordinary in the ordinary.
Your sketches tell the story in a way words could never do. Thanks for sharing your talent and Salt Spring home with us.
Ellen
Ellen, I absolutely love what you wrote about what artists do – another favorite quote of mine from Frederick Franck says exactly that: “When I start drawing an ordinary thing, I realize how extraordinary it is, sheer miracle” – so thank you for reminding me of that! And thank you as well for your kind words about my sketches…this last year especially has been a big process of figuring out how, as a storyteller, I can weave words and pictures together, so what you said means a lot. I hope all is very well with you and Hank in Mexico!
Wow, yeah sometimes the ideas on the road are forgotten in our times at home. Like you can go and “explore” the area where you live too. I’m trying to do that now, having been in one place for the longest stretch in a very very long time. It’s a bit strange when you are used to more motion. I love the artwork you are making from there, I can definitely see improvements and changes in your work over the months. I hate to use the word “settled” since to me that could be defined in so many ways, but do you find yourself more “settled” there or have you been itching at all to move on again? I love your handwriting by the way, it is really lovely. Someone posted a letter I had wrote when I was like a little kid and it struck me that I’m not sure if my handwriting has improved or worsened since then.
Anwar! As always, there’s so much to touch on here. Firstly, I definitely am becoming more comfortable with the word ‘settled’ – or just adjusting to a life comprised of more stillness than motion for the first time in a few years. But I think what I’m loving most about the stillness – and as my friend Hannah Loaring has talked about on her own site, Further Bound – is that staying centered in one place does absolute wonders for your creativity and productivity.
So as strange as it is to not be moving as much right now, I’m grateful that I’m still moving forward in other areas of life, you know? Being able to set up a daily routine has really freed up my mind to think and scheme and plot my next steps, instead of constantly worrying about where I’m going next and how I’m getting there. I’m realizing that taking a few months out to have this kind of creative retreat once a year is something I’d really like to keep up in the future.
And I also just wanted to say that I loved what you said about exploring where you’re living as well…I think for a while, I sort of had this binary view of life – I was either traveling and exploring or I was holed up somewhere getting work done. My time on Salt Spring has done quite a lot in starting to blur those lines, you know? Well thank you as always for reading and sharing your insights! (and please know there’s an epic reply to your email coming soon as well 🙂
Ahh but I always think of stillness perhaps in a different way than “settled”. I like the idea of settled and the word too, but I often feel like other people try to define it and I always imagine it in a very different way. I can both be settled, still, and fluid perhaps. I can possible to settled into an idea, a person, a moment. I think it’s important though to perhaps allow yourself to be more settled emotionally. To be all into where you are instead of always imagining this as just another temporary transition. I have that issue a lot, when something is temporary sometimes I don’t allow myself to settle as much as I should to get the most out of the situation. I’m amazed this is the first of your creative retreats. I’m glad it has went so well. I noticed a change in your art work for one. Haha, thanks in the advance for the epic reply. I need to work on the fine art of brevity.
Your post resonates quite a lot with me.
I started to take a photo every day for the first time this year, and it suddenly made me pay attention to home a lot more. Looking back at the pictures I can often remember when I took it and what was happening then as well as the mood I was in.
I find it makes the place you live in that a little bit more special and beautiful. Suddenly it’s not only home but also a world filled with wonder.
Good luck with your future sketchings 🙂
Thank you so much for your kind words, Allysse, and for sharing about your photo project here! I loved reading about it and hearing what you’re taking away from it – that just a bit of attention and appreciation can breed wonder. That is exactly what sketching has taught me in my own life. Are you sharing your daily photos on your blog? I’d love to see some of them!
It’s nice to be able to still appreciate what we call home even if it’s a temporary one especially after travelling for long time. When we travel so much that it becomes a lifestyle is not so easy (at least for me) but you did it perfectly. Lovely drawings as usual! 🙂
I love this, Franca, and think you’re exactly right! In a way, I’m actually quite grateful that I spent the last few years moving around so much, as it’s given me a real appreciation for home and for staying in one place. I feel it’s just about finding that right balance between movement and stillness, and learning to love both stages in life 🙂
The town sounds just right, not too big or small and with the restaurants you really want!
I guess it took somewhere really unique to make you realise the beauty and interest in the little, homey things!
It truly is, Jade! I’ve so loved getting to know Ganges these last couple of months, and it was especially fun to bring it to life through these sketches. Thank you as always for reading – I hope you’re doing well in Korea!
Candace, you really seem to (pun intended) draw peoples attention, considering the words of wisdom during your heartwarming encounters! And the most intriguing part is actually that you do not take it from the most travelled persons you meet, but that they are fragments of everyday life, thoughts from people who have both feet firmly on the ground and who embrace the ordinary. Maybe you even reveal their “mundane wisdom” or better say are able to capture it.
Wonderful sketches again and each of them a wee discovery! I said that before, but I really like these “invisible portraits” of the people you meet and who may find their place in the anecdotes that become part of your sketches, as for example Donna and her food for thought… 🙂
Take care Candace and thanks for another lovely trip!
Oliver, your fantastic insights and equally wonderful puns are always a joy to read 🙂 I especially love how you described the ‘invisible portraits’ – as you might’ve noticed in my sketches, I tend not to draw people very often (only because I’m quite horrendous at it! especially faces…), but at the same time, the people I meet through sketching (and just through life itself) are a huge part of the process for me. So I suppose documenting their wisdom through each little annotation is just my way of trying to still honor our encounters. I’m delighted you enjoyed these sketches, and I can’t wait to bring you another set of them soon – I hope all is very well in Edinburgh!
I love how you take the time to find beauty in the everyday. Your posts are always inspirational 🙂
Well thank you, Nikki! That means a great deal. It has definitely been something I’ve had to learn to do – and I’m grateful that life continues to reinforce the lesson. Thanks as always for reading and saying hello 🙂
I love the idea of sketching your home and traveling with it. That could certainly cure some homesickness. Your time in the yurt has seen you thriving…how wonderful to have a fulfilled that prophecy.
Thank you, Corinne! I truly am immensely grateful for the creative retreat this little yurt has been…it never ceases to amaze me what can happen at the intersection of our intentions and inspiration. I hope you’ve been very well!
I was immediately captivated by the homepage of your blog with easy navigation tools and the amazing high-resolution photo! I enjoyed how your theme is unique to many travel blogs with talented sketches, communicating the time and effort taken to observe each destination. I also wish to endeavour in my own solo travels in the future so thank you for the inspiration!
Thanks so much for stopping by, Sarah! I’m glad to hear you enjoyed the homepage of the site (all credit for its design goes to Theme Trust, and their epic theme ‘Port’), as well as the sketches – they do indeed take a bit more time to create than a photo, but I’ve really come to love the process and what it reveals to me about each place. I hope you’ll have a chance to try out sketching one day, and best of luck as you plan your own adventures!
I love it when I allow myself the space to pay attention to the details. Sadly, I gave up on my sketching endeavor shortly after it began. I lugged the few supplies I purchased around with me for awhile, but finally gave them up after a few months of not using them. It is a wonderful way to observe the world. I’m glad you have started to use your tools at home.
Oh no! I’m sorry to hear the sketching didn’t go too well this first time, but perhaps you’ll be able to pick it up again in the future (and perhaps when you won’t have to carry the supplies around with you as you travel 🙂 But I’m happy you were able to give it a go for a while, and I’d definitely love to get a peek at your sketches when our paths cross again!
That was beautiful. And it’s nice seeing the homey paintings. I love the passing things that people tell us, that just gives us a bit of insight or strength. You’ll never know when you’ll find it. I’m tempted to check out Salt Spring now.
And just as a passing comment, I’m reading this as I’m absolutely starving, so pizza and gelato and mocha sounds so good…especially the pizza. I want pizza. 😉
Thanks for sharing! The sketches were awesome.
Where do you plan to go next?
wow wow and wow to your drawiings
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