I was absolutely lost in love and life when I did my drawings. Time stood still.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Although I still occasionally paint and draw, my life has now been shaped by my writing.
I loved drawing, but I just couldn't do it to the level that some of my friends could. That pulled me up unconsciously because I wanted to be like them, and I wanted to draw.
When I was a kid, I never felt that what I was drawing really represented me; it was just something I enjoyed.
Drawing was a cheap way for me to express myself. It gave a focus to my thinking and my life from a very early age.
From an early age, I had always loved drawing. Laying on the floor, in front of the fire, drawing from my imagination, marching soldiers, dive bombers, spaceships and monsters. Now, suddenly, I was drawing from real life!
Drawing was the only thing I was any good at in school, but I never dreamt I would, or even could, spend my life doing it.
I loved painting and drawing for many reasons. One of them was that all it really required was me, a pencil and a pad. It was something I was passionate about, and still am.
Even though I'm usually not conscious of it, I think drawing has always served a sort of therapeutic purpose in my life. There's something about the process of translating the messy chaos of real life into a clean, simple drawing that's always been comforting to me.
When I was a kid, I loved to draw, and I was lucky because I had parents and teachers and grown-ups around who recognised and encouraged that.
Drawing is the only thing I've found in which I can lose myself completely. I love it. It started as something that relaxed me, but now it's a struggle because I'm pushing myself. The day-to-day sketching is fraught.
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