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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!

As long as I can remember, I've always loved to draw. But my interest in drawing wasn't encouraged very much.

Fantasy is the only canvas large enough for me to paint on.

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 never felt that what I was drawing really represented me; it was just something I enjoyed.

I have been drawing all my life.

After a long period of not drawing, you have to, like, relearn how to draw. It's not very fun.

Growing up, I enjoyed drawing, but it was always in the service of an idea. I drew all the time, and I enjoyed making.

Sometimes I like to draw.

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.