First Steps
Again, the world brought me closer to delayed plans, leaving no room for fear. In Saturday, I found out that my local chapter of urban sketchers would meet up the first Sunday every month, which just happened to be today. Very conveniently, the meeting point was within walking distance of my dwelling. One would say the stars have aligned to make this actually happen. Yet, what followed was hesitation. I didn't feel ready. My brain conjured many different excuses. Too early. My body's still recovering. I don't want to sketch with people yet.
To miss this meetup would mean waiting another month for the next opportunity, so I steeled my resolve and promised myself I would drag my feet there if I could wake up on time. I knew I would enjoy myself once I got there, but cajoling myself to go out was always the hardest part. Once upon a time, I would romp across town solo, breaking no sweat. The years after surviving The Great Depression felt like a long string of relearning what was shaken out of me, a fugue of vaguely familiar feelings and heady anxiety. Going to an LGS or meeting an acquaintance was fine, but it had been a long time since I attended something so completely new.
Well, instead of getting a good night's rest like a good kid, I channeled the overexcited student before a school trip. I made myself a set of viewfinders till early morning and set the alarm clock for the wrong time. If was already awake at this ungodly hour (in the weekend nonetheless), I would actually go out even if that meant sketching alone, dammit. I arrived exactly half an hour after the time advertised on the pamphlet, the meeting point deserted. They have clearly dispersed to do their sketches. I figured they couldn't be too far, so I made my way in with rebound bravado. If I met anybody, I would ask for the time for the throwdown. If I did not, it was already a morning well-spent because I got my exercise.
Thanks to a pair of kindly security officers, I did meet someone. A group of sketchers made for a memorable impression, apparently. I spotted one from afar, his hand waving a pencil in the air. Noting the time and place for the throwdown, I made my way to a shady ledge overlooking the backyard. Lovely vantage point, with breezy wind and clean, flat surfaces to boot. It was a particularly isolated spot, but not far from the area of foot traffic. As I set my bag down, I saw a couple other sketchers passing by from the other side of the bushes.
10 months after I took up drawing again, 3.5 months after I took up painting, a month after I started sketching from my LGS, and two weeks after I started sketching outside (solo), I was finally in an actual urban sketchers meetup.
As it was my first outing with the express intention to sketch, it immediately felt markedly different. One, I had way more time on my hands. Literal hours to work on however many sketches I wanted. Usually, sketching was secondary to whatever I went out for. As I mainly went out for Work from Cafe/Board Game/Card Game sessions in my LGS, I would have to juggle the sketch between turns or rounds, giving me about 20 mins tops to work on a page. Such ample time allowed me to work closer to my home style instead of my usual hasty slapdash brushworks. Took time to adjust. Fast I could do, but my marks possessed a certain sense of illegibility I would like to work on. Honestly, there was such a lot of time so if the next meeting place is half as nice I could see myself bringing a book. It would help me to leave finished pages alone instead of overworking them.
Second, I wasn't bogged down by any extra weight. Any card gamers could tell you how heavy a deck of cardboard could get, and you would never bring just one. My entire setup could fit in my jacket pockets, but I did bring a small bag for snacks and water. Two ad cards and a clear sleeve made for a functional viewfinder and it was paying dividends. I had dropped some items I wasn't using much from the kit (like the eraser. I find that I'm often not on fussy pencilworks mood with 20 mins deadline), but I also brought in a fluorescent yellow highlighter (15 years old this year). I didn't use it much in high school, didn't want to throw it away as it was still as vibrant as Day 1, and a random artist on Youtube showed me a way to use it to block big shapes. I tested the method and it turned out this particular color looked pretty good on cream paper, nowhere as garish as I suspected.
I am still fond of watercolor, but when I have to finish a sketch while planning my turns hunting for hues and mixing colors ain't the best idea (I want to keep it respectful to my opponents). I'm keeping it at home for now, though I could definitely bring it to dedicated sketchwalks session like this.
As my first solo venture was sketching an event held in a hall, I did not get to appreciate the sweet qualities of sketching outdoors until that moment. To have a scene flood your eyes to the periphery, to feel how boundless it is... I personally enjoyed how natural my strokes felt for rendering organic objects instead of industrial fixtures.
But nothing prepared me for the throwdown. I did not expect such diversity in styles, skill levels, mediums, and age. Someone brought a comically large pencil from Flying Tiger and told us she sharpened it with a vegetable peeler. Two children, no older than 9, proudly showcased their pages. A middle-aged man somehow managed to eke out three scrolls of cool brushworks. Someone tried oil pastel for the first time and filled their page with bold marks.
One might say the meet was lacking direction, but I personally enjoyed how self-directed it was. You could join late and leave early. You could sketch as much or as little as you would feel comfortable with. You could choose to work on big scenes or small vignettes. You could be social or observe from afar, basking in the knowledge that twenty other people were working on their sketches as you did. All in all, it was what I needed. A way to routinely get fresh air and step counts, mildly social but not exhaustingly so.
Looking forward for next month's outing!