There's something about drawing that takes me to a place in my mind that's childlike and innocent, a place where my imagination is boundless, a place where imperfections are wiped out with a few swipes of an eraser. My sketchpad is an archive of ideas, where there are no "rights" or "wrongs", just "what if's" and "I wonder's".
Somewhere along the line in this game of life, we're encouraged to "grow up" and leave childish things in the past to focus on what society considers to be "normal". Now although I've come to terms with the fact that passion alone won't pay the bills, drawing reminds me of why I got into this game in the first place... it allows me to interject some of that childlike enthusiasm into my work. To be honest, I think the reason this feeling is so important to me is because deep down inside, I still yearn for the feeling of delight and appreciation I received from my mother as she hung countless drawings on the fridge... it's a feeling of assurance that I have delivered happiness with the gifts I've been given. I don't know about you, but to me, that's one helluva drug!
I don't know if I'll ever find that place where I'm basking in that permanent state of bliss... well, at least in this lifetime... but for now, these sweet escapes are enough to sustain me.