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.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Growing up, I enjoyed drawing, but it was always in the service of an idea. I drew all the time, and I enjoyed making.
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.
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.
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.
As long as I can remember, I've always loved to draw. But my interest in drawing wasn't encouraged very much.
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.
Often I had to imagine the things I needed. I learned very early to read amidst noise. And so I started writing and drawing at an early age.
I was three years old when I started drawing. I did it all my life.
When I was a kid, I never felt that what I was drawing really represented me; it was just something I enjoyed.