why i carry a sketchbook everywhere

A few months ago, I didn’t always have a sketchbook with me. Now, it’s one of the first things I put in my bag before I leave the house.

I’ve always been a visual learner, so in a way, this feels like returning to something that has always been there. Drawing has become a way for me to document my days, collecting sketches and memories of how I notice a place.

What details did I pick up on? What did I choose to put down on paper? What made me stop and look twice?

It’s become a pressure-less activity. I draw when I’m seated somewhere, when I have time to slow down, when something catches my eye. There doesn’t have to be a finished piece or anything particularly good to show for it.

Sometimes the point is simply that I noticed.

Drawing from real life is one of the best ways I’ve found to actually be where I am.

When you sit in front of something and try to draw it, you start breaking down what you see differently. Instead of seeing a chair, you notice the angle of its legs. Instead of seeing a building, you notice where its lines begin to disappear toward the horizon.

You start seeing shapes, proportions, shadows, negative space.

Things you might normally walk past suddenly become interesting.

Since I started drawing more again, I’ve noticed details in the real world even when I’m not sketching. I find myself observing constantly. The shape of a lamp, the lettering on an old storefront, the way two buildings overlap, the tiny objects someone chose to put on a café table.

And I think that’s one of my favorite things drawing has given me.

Not necessarily the ability to draw something perfectly, but the ability to notice more.

I think part of learning to see is also learning to slow down.

There are so many places I could walk through in five minutes, take a photo of and move on from. Drawing asks something different of me.

If I decide to sketch something, I have to stay.

I have to sit there long enough to notice how things connect. I notice people coming and going, the way the light changes, the objects around me that I probably wouldn’t have paid attention to otherwise.

A place that could have been a quick stop becomes somewhere I actually spent time.

I like that carrying a sketchbook gives me a reason to do that.

It has changed the pace at which I experience places. Instead of always thinking about where I’m going next, sometimes I just sit down, open my sketchbook and let myself stay exactly where I am.

Something I’ve started thinking about is that drawing isn’t only a record of what was in front of me.

It’s a record of what I chose to notice.

Two people could sit in the exact same café and come away with completely different pages.

Maybe I notice the curve of a chair, the typeface on the menu, the shape of a lamp or the way a shelf has been styled. Someone else might notice the people, the food or the view outside.

There are hundreds of things in front of me, but only a handful ever make it onto the page.

And over time, I think those choices start to say something about me too.

My sketchbooks are slowly becoming a collection of the things I’m naturally drawn to. Objects, interiors, buildings, colors, little compositions and details that made me look twice.

Maybe, without really trying to, I’m creating a record of how I see the world.

After years of working in design on a screen, there’s something especially nice about returning to paper and pen.

There’s no undo button. No perfectly aligned frame. No need for everything to become a deliverable.

I can just look, draw and move on.

Maybe that’s also why carrying a sketchbook has become such an important part of this chapter of my life. I’m spending more time creating again, exploring new places, and giving myself room to follow my curiosity.

The sketchbook gives all of those little observations somewhere to live.

I’m also learning that not everything I make needs to become something.

For a long time, creativity was closely connected to an outcome. There was a problem to solve, something to deliver, someone to design for or a reason the work needed to exist.

Sketching feels different. Sometimes I draw something simply because I wanted to draw it.

It doesn’t need to become a finished illustration. It doesn’t need to go into a portfolio. It doesn’t need to become a product. It doesn’t even need to be something I show anyone.

There’s something freeing about making something that doesn’t have to prove its value afterward.

The act of sitting there and drawing was enough. And weirdly, removing that expectation has made me want to create even more.

I think another reason I’ve fallen back in love with sketching is that it’s helping me let go of perfection.

Working in digital products for years, so much of my job was about refining. You iterate, test, question the solution, refine it again, and make sure what you’re designing actually works for the people using it.

There’s always a reason to go back and make something better.

Strip all of that away and come back to everyday sketching, and suddenly there is no right or wrong. It’s just me and my pen.

My lines are far from straight. My shapes definitely aren’t perfect. I scribble, layer things on top of each other and shade over mistakes. Hell, sometimes my perspective is completely off.

But who cares?

I actually think that’s where so much of the character comes from.

Sometimes I look closely at one of my sketches and laugh because it really is just a bunch of scribbles, shapes and shading. But when I pull myself back and look at the whole page, somehow it works.

Maybe there’s something in that beyond drawing, too.

When you’re too close to something, it’s easy to obsess over every crooked line. Sometimes you have to pull yourself out, look at the whole picture and trust the process a little more.

I think this might be the part I’ll appreciate most years from now.

Of course I take photos everywhere I go. But there’s something different about looking back at something I drew.

I remember sitting there.

I remember what caught my attention first. I remember deciding what would fit on the page and what I would leave out. Sometimes I remember the sounds around me, what I was drinking, who I was with or what I was thinking about while I drew.

A sketch doesn’t capture everything about a place. It captures what I noticed.

I think I want to come back to these same places in a few years and see them differently. I want to flip through these pages and remember not just where I was, but what I was paying attention to at the time.

Maybe that’s what I’m actually collecting. Not perfect drawings of places, but little records of how I experienced them.

So yes, I think I’ll keep bringing my sketchbook everywhere. On errands. To cafés. On long walks. On trips. Even when I’m convinced I probably won’t use it. Because sometimes I do.

And sometimes slowing down long enough to draw something is exactly what makes me see it.

If you want to kickstart your sketching journey here are the sketchbook essentials I started with.

See you in the next note,

Janice

Continue reading