One In Every Color

Today I was rooting around in my studio for my copy of a very famous book I wanted to use in a piece I’m working on. During my search I came across a sketchbook long ago forgotten. This sketchbook was sitting next to another sketchbook and like the crumbs of bread left for Hansel and Gretel, I found sketchbook after sketchbook. After a good look around my studio, I found no less than FORTY-SEVEN. That’s roughly one for every year of my life. Some were sketchbooks were purchased, and some were gifts. There are handmade books, lined books, and one is even made of paper I pulped and poured myself and isn’t even bound to its crafted cover—but here’s the kicker: they’re almost all nearly empty.

I don’t consider myself a collector of things. In fact, I actually pride myself on my minimalism tendencies and because my partner and I are downsizing in the next year, I’ve been actively getting rid of most things in our home. Out of all the things I possess, I can’t think of a single item I have forty-seven of, except for individual toothpicks, or that massive package of napkins I bought at Costco ten years ago and we still haven’t made our way through because we’re not overly formal at meal times and more apt to grab a paper towel off the roll instead.

But back to these sketchbooks. If I were a person who believes in sifting through the conscious to make the unconscious known (and lucky for me, I AM) I’d make note that pathologically collecting sketchbooks might mean something. What, I can’t say yet… but until then, I just wanted to let you know that I found the coolest sketchbook online this morning…

… I’m thinking about getting one in every color.