When the pencil is moving, thoughts are happening. Art is constructed on paper and later embellished elsewhere. After all, it's the aesthetically boring frame that holds a house up, not the beautiful exterior.
I actually believe that sketches are random clues into oneself. Small pieces that, from a distance, combine to reflect something about the artist. I don't know what the following images reflect about me exaclty, but they definitely contain motifs that I have dabbled in consistently for many years. I think some of them were inspired by obvious sources.
This is the stuff, friends. I am a huge fan of sketch/preliminary art; anything that has 'bones' you can see. For me, that has always been where the magic happens. After all the early decisions are made, the rest is just execution. The irony of this is that sketches are the first steps of what usually is a long journey toward a finished piece of artwork. By the time the final piece is 'complete' the raw spirit of the sketch is long forgotten. Rough drawings contain real life; once you pass the sketching phase it's just a constant attempt to preserve that life.
My favorite sketches come back to me from nowhere. I have kept good sketchbooks at times in my life but now is not one of them. For the last year or so, I have drawn mainly on loose pages. I think it's good because it makes everything less precious. However, it is also very, very bad because the odds are not in favor of me every drawing inspiration from the little bits of magic.
I recently found a whole stack of such pages. I was elated! It's like finding a journal I never remembered writing. I don't know what the drawings are 'about' but there seems to be a strong narrative to some of them. These drawings were drawn at the office during various different discussions. All this time I have wondered where my sketching alter ego has been and it turns out he was tied up in meetings.