There could be some really shocking stuff in this sketchbook. Of course, what’s considered shocking is pretty subjective, so I guess it’s safe to say somebody is bound to be shocked by at least some of the content in this sketchbook.
Whether or not anything in this sketchbook is actually career-endingly scandalous is beside the point. I’m not showing it to anybody. This is my secret sketchbook—my drawing journal. This is the sketchbook whose pages will never appear on the internet. Why? Just because that’s the way I want it. This cryptic and mystical-looking tome is my secret sketchbook.
We’re a bunch of internet artists anymore
Even me. I actually draw for Instagram the majority of the time. I need to stop that. I need to teach myself to draw for other purposes and let Instagram look over my shoulder a couple of times a week. But we’re living in an age of isolation. The compulsion to share everything is stronger than ever. Everyone is lonely—especially artists. If posting to the internet can give us an hour or two of attention, we’ll do it.
But the internet audience is distracted and very far away. If we’re lucky, they’ll drop us a like and scroll on. Is that what we create art for? So somebody will tap a little heart icon and flick it off the screen? What’s so great about that? Did you really spend three hours on that drawing just so somebody would look at it for three seconds?
Is that why you started?
We often forget what drew us to something in the first place. Sometimes it’s when we decide to “get serious” about something that we lose contact with what made us love it. You need to find joy in what you do—especially as a creator. Otherwise, you’re likely on the fast-track to burnout.
Enter the Secret Sketchbook
It’s time to buy a new sketchbook. This is your sign. Get one with paper you love the feel of. Make sure it’s one that can handle your favorite media and the art-style you enjoy the most. Bonus if it’s really beautiful. You want something you’re going to get excited just looking at. Most importantly, it needs to be brand-new. Completely empty.
Now go ahead and fill out the first page. Make it fancy or a sloppy mess, but you need to actually write, on the first page or inside cover, that this is your secret sketchbook. Make your own rules according to what you want.
These could include:
- I will not post anything in this book to social media
- I will not work on any commissions or pieces to sell here
- I will not take this book out in public where anyone might look over my shoulder
- I will show the inside of this book to literally no one
- I will keep this book hidden in a secret room behind a bookcase in Amsterdam
You can be as extreme as you’d like, or less so. The goal is to put boundaries around this particular sketchbook and promise not to violate them under any circumstances.
But isn’t it kind of selfish to hoard your talents like that? No. Not all art is meant to be performance. Think of the creators you appreciate. Do you really think they show you everything they do? Do you really think they should? I don’t. I think the magic of art comes from the intimacy between the art and the artist. You have to have a relationship with what you create that has nothing to do with the audience.
This applies to any kind of creative work. I’m primarily an author, and I follow a lot of other authors on various social media, and read a lot of blogs. I’m sure none of them think they actually have to post or publish every piece they write. And yet, I have noticed a phenomenon that bothers me a little. I have seen authors post and publish writing that is literally from their diaries. Yeah. That book you might even have kept a dinky little padlock on when you were twelve or thirteen. They’re opening it up and putting it online.
Why? Well, because even though a diary is, by definition, a private record full of personal thoughts specifically not written for general public consumption, we just can’t keep it to ourselves if the prose starts to sing, or the points hit home. Because we must share our art.
And then we wonder why we feel drained and judged and unappreciated at the end of the day when the likes have already stopped popping up.
Speaking to the world is important. Sharing our vision, gifting others with the products of our passions and letting our unique voices be heard is one of the biggest joys of being a creator. People need what we create. Art can encourage, inspire, and uplift people in ways nothing else can. But sometimes our work will be met with silence or criticism from people who had nothing nice to say. Sometimes we can overextend and lose ourselves in the noise of public display.
Some of your art is God’s gift to you alone. Some of it deserves to be kept out of the glaring sun and careless wind. That’s why you should give yourself the sanctuary of a secret sketchbook. Take some time to develop your relationship with what you create away from likes and comments.
So, what could you do in your secret sketchbook? Anything you want. That’s the point. It doesn’t have to be anything particularly personal or private. It could be:
- Pages and pages of hand-studies (You know you should do some)
- Self-portraits, or portraits of people you know
- Spoilery stuff for the webcomic you haven’t even started yet
- Nothing but character designs, if that happens to be what makes you happiest
- Still-lifes and value studies, since no one really likes seeing those anyway
- All the guilty-pleasure fanart from fandoms no one else cares about
- Comic-strips of your day-to-day life
- Prayer-art or scripture drawings
- Art depicting what troubles you, or what you think is missing from the world
- Kittens, puppies, and baby rabbits
- Literally anything. Nobody cares.
So…what’s in my secret sketchbook? You’ll never know. Not everything I draw is for you and not everything you draw should be for me, or your followers, or your aunt Philomena. You are completely entitled to your own secrets. Your sketchbook is not a billboard. You can keep anything you want to yourself.
Oh, and your other sketchbooks? Yeah, you can censor them too. I love watching sketchbook tours, but if you want to slap sticky notes over some things, or washi tape pages together here and there—hey, do that.
Give people something to speculate about.
