Measuring time through marking, pressing, stroking, rubbing, dragging materials and tools across a surface, flicking at specks of charcoal, wiping away oily smears, or scratching into layers to reveal the underneath. In this sense the act of drawing means marking time, leaving traces of our thoughts and activities for others who’ll view the work in another place and time.
As sketchbooks and piles of paper thick with charcoal, ink and oil pile up on our shelves, we can return to them, flick through the pages – smelling, touching and viewing our images, revisiting the thoughts, provocations, irritations and joys that went into their being. Surely this is what drawing is all about.