{"id":28,"date":"2016-09-19T15:47:45","date_gmt":"2016-09-19T14:47:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost:8888\/?p=28"},"modified":"2024-03-18T15:38:57","modified_gmt":"2024-03-18T15:38:57","slug":"when-you-stop-drawing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/stooryduster.co.uk\/blog\/when-you-stop-drawing\/","title":{"rendered":"When you stop drawing."},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Doodled-ideas-inspired-at-meetings.\"<\/a>
Doodles from way back the nineties when I was a laid back chilled hipster designer – even in the face of imminent high profile immovable deadlines.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I have a drawing habit. I’ve always doodled prolifically \u2013 on napkins, backs of envelopes, margins of agendas, reports, coffee lids, whatever.\u00a0 In discussions and meetings, whether in boardrooms or caf\u00e9s, no one has ever objected. When the drawing stopped it was a shock. That was when I realised I was seriously ill.<\/p>\n

\"Doodles<\/a>
My doodles from late back in the first decade of the new millennium. I’m now working as a visual communications lecturer in the education sector – and still cheery although there are warning signs of frustration such as the legs taking the chopped torso for a walk.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

<\/p>\n

I’ve gone through the scraps of paper I’ve kept over the years. I wanted to see if I could find enough to show you how my doodles changed either side of when I was the most ill and stopped entirely.<\/p>\n

\"Emotionally<\/a>
These doodles from meetings were just prior to me stopping drawing. They are heavily scribed into the paper and more about emotion than ideas or reflection. Then I just stopped. I still kept notes but made no drawings anymore to accompany them.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The things I doodle on a page are usually as baffling to me as they are to others. At one meeting I\u00a0 doodled a fat ring nosed bull sitting on an old fashioned chain pull toilet. It was only much later I recognised why. The meeting was full of bullshitters.<\/p>\n

Doodling lets my subconscious talk to me. I get to see what it is saying because my monkey brain gets sidelined and shushed with the technicalities of working the pen. I can only guess at what some of them symbolise though. It’s a bit like trying to interpret dreams.<\/p>\n

They were always a reflections of what was going on around me at the time of doodling, and the few I’ve kept were because I liked the ideas in them. I’ll likely turn some into woodcuts. But the doodles when I was ill were more about emotions than ideas and the drawing style was much more agitated and scratchy, scoring the pen into the paper.<\/p>\n

\"Incoherent<\/a>
Believe it or not these doodles were after the worst of the illness. I am making marks on the page again, I’m no longer suicidal and I’ve been using mental techniques to help with healing. But I still rage internally. There are positives such as a flowers and a bee emerging out of the resolute scribbling.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"stressful<\/a>
Some of my further on after the worst of the illness doodles – and drawings of a sort are emerging from the scrappy pen strokes. But even now, two years after these doodles my drawings are still not as light hearted as they once were.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

My recovery is still on-going but looking back it is strange that my drawings are more frantic and illegible coming out of the illness than they were going in. Back when I was ill I didn’t care about not drawing or even about being alive or dead. Now from the viewpoint of recovery it is horrifying to me that I stopped drawing. I chose to make a living from drawing and drawing is my life.<\/p>\n

So I suppose it might have saved that life. Because stopping drawing was such a clear signal, even if I wasn’t feeling it, that it got me to go and get help. What might have happened if I hadn’t had that signal?<\/p>\n

\"Doodle<\/a>
I might have lost the plot completely and not now be here.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Save<\/span><\/p>\n

Save<\/span><\/p>\n

Save<\/span><\/p>\n

Save<\/span><\/p>\n

Save<\/span><\/p>\n

Save<\/span><\/p>\n

Save<\/span><\/p>\n

Save<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I have a drawing habit. I’ve always doodled prolifically \u2013 on napkins, backs of envelopes, margins of agendas, reports, coffee lids, whatever.\u00a0 In discussions and meetings, whether in boardrooms or caf\u00e9s, no one has ever objected. When the drawing stopped it was a shock. That was when I realised I was seriously ill.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[19,20,15],"class_list":["post-28","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-drawing","tag-depression","tag-doodles","tag-sketch"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stooryduster.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stooryduster.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stooryduster.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stooryduster.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stooryduster.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=28"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/stooryduster.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1135,"href":"https:\/\/stooryduster.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28\/revisions\/1135"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stooryduster.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=28"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stooryduster.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=28"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stooryduster.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=28"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}