I remember when I was a kid, I was crazy about new paper. The fresh crisp feel of a spotless white sheet would make me just giddy. It didn't matter what kind of paper it was-- Letter-size basic cheap printer paper, or the super brights for color prints, or sketch paper-- acid free! or fancy drawing paper-- 80 lb press. I would gobble it all up.
The possibilities were endless-- and they were for me to decide. I went through pages and pages and sketchbooks entirely with my doodles, imaginings, and characters I had dreamed of. They were as real to me as my emotions I had drawn into, and pulled out of them. I could start in the morning, and draw for hours on end. For a kid whose mother thought had a mild case of ADD, I have to say-- that is beautiful effortless concentration.
Today, years later, I feel the same way-- but it's more like my life if a blank sheet. I've been slowly setting it up-- from the selection of the grain, the whiteness, the weight-- (beautiful and well chosen) only this time I feel like there's only one sheet. What do I want to put down? What is important enough to immortalize on this carefully prepared surface?
