Architect v. Archaeologist: A Lesson Learned

Several months ago I bought my first Moleskine sketchbook. I was excited and immediately began drawing in it. There was no direction or method to my manic scribbling, and after a small chunk of time I sat back to look at what I had drawn. It was crap; a shoddy conglomeration of lines that weakly portrayed a downright trodden scene. There was a snake, an ice cream cone, city buildings, dice, mountains, and a big-headed small-fisted guy aiming a gun at the viewer. These elements sound interesting, and perhaps if I had slowed down and taken my time there would be something worth looking at, but I didn't slow down and ended up molesting a good idea.

Unfortunately, it gets worse. When I sat back and absorbed the junk my fingers guided through my pencil, I was happy. There is a big difference between being happy with a creative product and being satisfied with it. Instead of being satisfied with my efforts (not that there was much of that) for what they were, I was happy with what I had produced. Happy.

I was lying to myself. And I believed it.

Eager to see how watercolors fared in my new sketchbook, I hurried to the sink and filled up my water cup. I sloshed some colors around and waited for the picture to dry. My smile faded to nil when I returned: the paper was dry and the "piece" was terrible. I had just let my ego ejaculate on the first page of my sketchbook.

Positive thinking ensued. I needed to learn a lesson from my mistake or it would happen again. I also needed to cover up the sloppiness I had put forth. I grabbed my fine black Sharpie and began writing over the image. This is what came out:

"This page represents everything incorrect about sketching. At least, every thing I do wrong. My goal wasn't to have fun; not to enjoy myself - just to create a finished product. Instead of enjoying the process, I rushed it. The process is everything! I'm glad this picture has been produced in the beginning of this book - it will serve as a prominent reminder to slow down, take each stroke with interest, and enjoy the journey. If anything, the 'finished' picture should be a sad occasion - an inevitable see-you-later to a new friend. Sad indeed. I must remember to be less like an architect and more like an archaeologist. Architects plan every step, measure every line, calculate each angle; archaeologists reveal hidden treasure, with each stroke of the brush being a careful, exciting step, preceded and followed by more careful and exciting steps - not one long journey, but small adventures strung together. So slow down!"

Don't let this happen to you.