Last night I was thinking about the sad left snowflake I cut out from the night before. My left hand needed a chance to redeem itself. Drawing was the answer and this time I was going to find those pencils. Since I was feeding Sparrow, the kitten, on my bed (prevents fat cat from eating her food) she was the obvious choice for a model.
Changing hands feels interesting and otherly. Something experienced many times before becomes new yet it is very familiar. Unlike trying to cut with scissors, drawing left handed was calming and almost meditative. When I draw or sketch with my right hand I am trying too hard to get it right. Erased lines sometimes fill the page. This time I had no expectations of perfection or even similarity to the model. It also helped that Sparrow turned her head away from me as I was about to draw her face. Hey you can only draw what you see. I think lefty did a darn fine job.
Changing hands feels interesting and otherly. Something experienced many times before becomes new yet it is very familiar. Unlike trying to cut with scissors, drawing left handed was calming and almost meditative. When I draw or sketch with my right hand I am trying too hard to get it right. Erased lines sometimes fill the page. This time I had no expectations of perfection or even similarity to the model. It also helped that Sparrow turned her head away from me as I was about to draw her face. Hey you can only draw what you see. I think lefty did a darn fine job.
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