It was 2015 by the time I found a little more stability in my work/life balance. I met the man who is now my fiance, who shared an interest in art, drawing, and cosplay, and his love and support began to rekindle my passion for all of it. This would be the precursor to my very next shift, which would come in just a few year’s time.

A Very Historically Accurate depiction of how I met my fiance, complete with the worst paneling imaginable, July 2015

I revisited scrapbooking, finally having fond memories worth preserving. I picked crochet back up, even making a little money with it. Then, I gave my art one more try just to see if it regressed (which it hadn’t), and I figured, well. . . if it’s not better, at least it’s not worse.

Finally, there came the day that I even opened a fresh Word document and began to write a story for the first time in a long while.

When my sister was an art student, her way of practicing involved going to a cafe and just drawing people she saw. It is the penchant of an artist, going out and just drawing or painting what they see, and it’s a great way to practice gesture drawing. I reiterate that I never took a single art class—save for the one time my sister brought me to a figure drawing workshop—so I relied very heavily on her and my brother’s knowledge.

Ironically, my siblings were the ones that convinced me not to take art classes in high school. They had taken some and felt that the experience was very lacking. Many kids just take art classes for the “easy A,” and the classes often only cover the bare basics. This is not to say that all high school art classes are terrible, just the ones at our school weren’t really the best. I was better off just practicing on my own.

That was the problem, though: I didn’t practice enough. Certainly, I knew practice makes progress, but I didn’t really have a clear idea of how to practice effectively. Practicing the way my sister did—by going outside and drawing the people—felt like spying in a way. I didn’t want to be seen as “creepy” or “weird” for drawing random strangers on the street, and I most certainly did not want people approaching me with requests, as my sister often experienced.

Another mental block put me off drawing anything I simply did not want to draw, which still affects me to some degree. I wanted to draw only things that captured my fancy: my original characters from my own imagination. I didn’t want to draw some random celebrity on Google images or some old guy in the park; those weren’t interesting enough for me. While I understood the value of studying from references, I just, you know. . . didn’t feel like it!

Finally, I almost always drew with the intent of producing a work of art. Since I made heavy, hard lines that couldn’t be erased easily, I agonized over drawings, making sure they were “good enough” because I didn’t want to make “bad” art. This is something that I think every artist can probably relate to.

Therein lay the vicious core of my problem: I didn’t make art because I wasn’t amazing at it, and I wasn’t amazing at it because I didn’t make art.

There were some instances where I attempted to overcome these mental blocks. In January 2017, following a holiday party, my fiance’s niece asked me to draw something for her. It was my first honest attempt at drawing again in nearly two years. I was surprised to find that my skills hadn’t regressed quite as much as I expected.

A drawing of Ciri from The Witcher 3 video game. The original was later gifted to a young elementary school student of mine with the intent of motivating her to “Keep drawing and one day you can draw like me.” January 2017

These were playfully categorized as "Drawings that Look Like Things I Did Not Intend to Draw." I likened the one (left) to Scarlett Johansen and the other (right) to LouAnne from King of the Hill. January 2017

But that isn’t to say that my skills were anywhere close to what I wanted. I asked my fiance to model for me sometimes. It probably did help, but nothing could make me overcome the sense that my skills were extremely lacking.

I produced maybe a couple more unremarkable sketches before putting the pencil and paper down entirely for another two years. Things got busy. I graduated from the University of California, Riverside, I worked a couple odd jobs while applying and interviewing for the JET Program. I was crocheting hats for money on the side, and writing was more satisfying than drawing. At least with writing, it’s harder to tell if I’m bad at it; with an English degree, one would assume that I was rather good at it.

Well, that too remained to be seen.

To be continued in Part 3. . .