Theresa Lewis

Sometimes, when undertaking a new project, it’s difficult to know where to start.

Almost a lifetime ago, I used to sketch and paint. When it was clear to me that I would never do it again, I gave away all my books and art supplies to someone who really could use them.

I had sold most of the work I had done, but there were several sketches that I couldn’t bring myself to part with. Those I kept safe (or so I thought) in a large portfolio.

I had always kept my treasures stored in boxes in my basement. Here, on Prince Edward Island, I wasn’t used to the salty dampness and I had no knowledge of the ravages it could cause.

One day, I went to look at my saved sketches and found that the dampness had caused them to mould so severely that they were unsalvageable. I was heart- broken. I had to throw my treasured sketches in the garbage. Scrapping my sketches was like scrapping a major part of my life. I felt like I had lost a limb.

Recently, my sisters chipped in and bought me new art supplies… charcoal pencils, sketch pads, paints and pastels. I was truly touched by their generosity. My problem was opening the sketch book and staring at the blank page. I held the charcoal for what seemed like hours and stared at the blank page and I felt nothing. There was no mental image of what I should sketch. I had absolutely no idea where to begin.

I put the sketch book down on the table in front of me and stared at it for the longest time and decided to try it another day.

The next day, there was my sketch book on the table in front of me again. The blank white page was taunting me. I had always loved drawing trees so I decided to start with a tree. The next thing I knew, a young artist with wind-blown hair appeared under the tree. He was smiling as he sketched the local scenery that I was filling in for him to sketch. That’s when I started to realize that a picture is really a story in images. I have always known that… on some level, but now I more than know it. I feel the connection.

The next day, I only wanted to try to draw a hand because I was never good at doing hands. Before I knew it, I had sketched a nursery with a guardian angel watching over a baby as the baby slept. I know that the pictures are not nearly the quality that I used to produce back in the day, but at least I have started. I am no longer afraid of the blank white page.

I am currently working on a winter scene with a little dude walking on a path towards his house. It’s starting to take shape.

Now, today, I thought I was finished my drawing of a winter scene when I realized that the little guy was on a journey to nowhere. That’s when it really hit me. A picture is a story in images. I felt it strongly now. I gave the little guy a buddy who was dragging a toboggan on his way up the path to meet his friend. Later, I added a skating rink and on it was a young girl who had taken a tumble and landed on her butt. So now the sketch was about kids having fun so I added a snowman too.

In the past, all my drawings, sketches and paintings were motionless. Now that I have made that mental connection between art and word, I will be able to produce images that are full of action and have a story of their own to tell.

Right now, my sketches are rough at best. Hopefully with lots of practice, my form will improve. I am working hard at it and now that I understand and have the missing piece of the puzzle, it’s getting exciting.

One of my sisters suggested that eventually I will be able to illustrate my children’s stories. I said absolutely not! I was convinced that a task like that was better left to the professionals. However, after two weeks of conscientious effort, I can see the vast improvement in my work. Maybe one of these days I will be able to illustrate my stories. Right now, I have gone from not even entertaining that thought to saying I know I will be able to do it at some point. At least now I am no longer afraid of the blank page, no matter how big it is.

The End