Iguanas, Battling Fear and Adventures with Blue Ink

Dipping dead of winter temperatures. A creative freeze. Going into a new year I had all this great momentum, ideas and projects ready to go. Then it snuck up on me. Second-guessing, doubts, and perfectionism blocking all my progress and plans.

All the planned studies and finished drawings of birds came to a stop. Not even a feather found in any of my sketchbooks. Perfectionism and self-doubt always dance together, ripping oxygen from the room.

I spent most of the week focusing on small, confidence-building draughtsmanship exercises. I attended a weekly figure drawing group I enjoy. In the evenings I looked through my favorite work of dead artists. While enriching and practical, these efforts hadn’t vanquished the creative malaise.

Going through old sketchbooks and journal entries reminded me of an idea I had for these hard moments. To get through a slump we could sketch the opposite of whatever we find ourselves stuck on. Tough block sketching subjects we love? Draw what we show indifference towards. Sketch what shakes us with irrational fear.

In my case, reptiles, crocodiles and the like. They chill the marrow in my bones. Even after living for a stretch of years in Florida, I never did get comfortable around reptiles.

img_20190116_091823-014620591496176953987.jpeg
Breaking a creative block drawing birds by turning to reptiles

Why draw something we fear? To remind us that in our sketchbook, we are in charge. That empowerment turns something we fear into an opportunity to develop courage and discover something new, unexpected. Second-guessing and perfectionism have little chance to survive these revelations.

How did this lead to my blue ink iguana? I spent a short while looking through videos and images. Began thinking about my experiences with the reptiles. Easily, I remembered the biggest iguana I may ever see in my life.

I had just dropped off my parents at the airport. Driving back, I spotted it. Making its way out of the Intracoastal waters to intimidate the cars passing by, was an iguana the size of a couch. My Jetta doesn’t exactly elicit fear. Thankfully the big ole’ curmudgeon agreed. The massive iguana lifted its head high, triumphant. Satisfied, it turned back and moved slowly to the water. The impression forever cemented.

Lounging iguanas under bridges and docks solidified in my head. Pictures maybe even clearer than of my favorite birds. Is it easier to remember and draw the things we fear than those we love?

Invested, my visual search continued. Little effort lead to upsetting stories. Over the past year, the University of Florida had a grant to exterminate iguanas in an awful, violent way. Invested became determined inspiration. I went right into the sketch.

I’ve been handwriting journal entries in fountain pen. The ritual inspires focused intentional expression. The jump from writing to sketching in fountain pen can be difficult. I find the benefits to both acts similar. This challenge to break through my slump was about finding inspiration and facing fears. Fountain pen and ink reinforce this idea.

I have two fountain pens I use. One filled with black ink the other with blue. I thought the blue would make a nice statement for the head of an iguana. The flow of this blue ink feels rich and velvety on paper. Unlike the black ink from the same line, it does take longer to dry and is not exactly waterproof. Both attributes welcome to a wet brush for a lovely wash. For such a permanent medium, ink actually provides a surprising amount of options.

Fancy pen in hand. Barrel full of ink. I meditated over this small study. I thought about all these different fears and doubts I had. It focused me on why I draw. Why did I start drawing after years away from a sketchbook? Reconciliation.

I should draw reptiles more often.