At yesterday morning’s yoga session, the instructor reminded the class that this is a “practice” – it doesn’t have to be perfect. “Listen to yourself.” I struggled with flexibility and balance. My posture was far from prefect, but I was there… practicing. The sun and the breeze felt good, and I was glad to be there.
I would do well to embrace the idea that, like yoga, artwork is a practice. It does not have to be perfect. It can be whatever I need it to be. But, it does not even rise to the level of practice if I fail to show up. I need to participate, and allow the imperfections to exist.
Turning back to my sketchbook and journal, I find ideas swirling but not coalescing. But I can still practice. I can still find subjects to draw, even if just to flex those muscles and bend those joints. Like trying out new words, there is always value in expanding one’s visual vocabulary. This pencil sketch is practice. Exercise. Getting myself moving again. And not coincidentally, it’s what’s for dinner.