100 Days of Sketchbook Pages

The stupid stuff and the great stuff about doing a personal challenge like this

It is a truth universally acknowledged that if you have ever panicked about the state of your creative career (or lack thereof), you would have heard about one artist or another doing the infamous 100 days of sketchbook pages challenge. It is where some affable optimist with too many art supplies endeavours to use up the moldy gouache and semi-hardened acrylics in their cupboards. Of course by “you” I meant me.

With me on this adventure was my good buddy Cornelie de Haan, who proved to be a much smarter artist than me. She and I did a spit-shake online. We promised to draw everyday, post it on Instagram, and then tag each other to keep ourselves accountable. The genius that is Cornelie had set out a few things differently, however: instead of posting every day on Instagram, she would post 7 pieces every week as a carousel. Also, she would be sticking with a theme. She emerged from this challenge with a beautiful collection of flowers.

I, on the other hand, did not have this gift of foresight. As with many of my cunning plans, it ended up pretty much as Baldrick as you could get.

The Confidence Issue

Right up there with getting bangs, posting everyday on Instagram is only for those with very elegant cheekbones and nerves of steel. As my meandering explorations began to fill up my profile grid, I found myself staring at it like Dorian Gray when he first encounters that horrible painting in the attic.

I vacillated between the pride of keeping my word to myself and Cornelie, and the discomfort of serving up a few half-baked potatoes just so I can cross the day off my list. I had to remember to be kind to myself, and clung to the idea that every artist out there was definitely creating shitty pages. They were just smart enough not to show them to everyone.

I’ve archived many of my sketchbook posts. Even to this day, I’m afraid of some innocent art director stumbling onto my Instagram profile and abruptly throwing up on themselves. Really, I’m so sorry.

The Painful But Intended Effect

This exercise, however embarrassing it was for me, held up a mirror to the things I didn’t know I was really struggling with. And ah, isn’t that just the sliver of maturity we all sometimes need to get stuck in our teeth as we grin and bear our sad lives?

One such cavity that really yawned open was my weakness in colour theory. As in, I had no sense for how colours actually worked in real life. Of course I knew the colours of the rainbow and primary colours and secondary colours and all that bullshit you learned from Sesame Street. But to actually compose colours with intention was a mental muscle borne from my art school days that had long ago atrophied.

Muddy, dark, low-contrast colours!

The other thing I noticed was an unhealthy reliance on the same boring composition. I wasn’t even aware I was doing this automatically, but seeing them all together was really helpful. I guess I had some kind of obsession with looking through some clearing in the forest, perhaps to discover a bathing angel or my dignity throughout this exercise. In the last one here I decided to put a goat to change things up. It didn’t really help.

What's with me and sticks?

Running out of ideas brought me to this lovely Instagram account Draw Daily Together, which gave me a boost for those times I couldn’t rack my brain for things to draw. Whew!

From reference photos from Draw Daily Together

I shifted around throughout the 100 days, experimenting more and more as I went on. I also started doing fun little exercises where I’d plop down some ink blobs and then try to make images or textures out of it. I used to do this a lot as a kid, and somehow I did find my inner child. At some point I started incorporating some collage as well, which was actually really fun.

Swing Out Sister, Breakout!

After more days of flopping around, I finally decided to take hold of my situation and escape the prison I was slowly building. I removed myself from autopilot and started really studying my output. What was I actually going to learn from these 100 days? What was going to make this 100-day chore worthwhile?

First off, this colour theory thing. It was a huge barrier for me. Swallowing my pride, I went out and got a colour wheel and hung it up above my desk. I still refer to it whenever I’m drawing, and just having it up there has made a huge difference in my life. Immediately I learned how to plan my colours even before touching paper. My work became less muddy and I felt more present.

Experiments in complimentary colours and triads

I also ventured further to find better subjects and different layouts. I searched for a rhythm to my pages that could be more adventurous than a bunch of drawings of sticks and trees. I began shrinking my compositions and creating panels. Even without the intention to create a story, one would emerge naturally anyway.

Panels within pages helped me find interesting colour palettes

This was where things started feeling really exciting. My pages started waking up. I began to work more on the emotional aspects of my drawings, the way the subjects made me feel, rather than faithful representations of a brown horse or a brown tree.

I also began to extend my blobs experiments and fell absolutely in love with drawing characters and expressions. It was definitely a turning point in my practice here, where I began to lean much more on my imagination than real life.

Characters began to emerge

I found myself also gravitating towards a more specific colour palette and a variety of textures, which has been another driving force in the sketchbook pages I still do today. My “happy colours” began to come out in my work, just by the pencils I chose to pick up that day.

So different from the dark and grey colours I was using in the beginning

Carry On, My Wayward Son

And so the 100 days ended. I hated part of it, but like a trooper, I kept going. I ate my gross vegetables and learned to love it. There’s a reason why these sort of exercises are so effective. However, I don’t offer any new insights or advice around it other than just to do it. 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

The most important outcome was not a surprising one: I learned to develop a sketchbook habit, and months after this experiment concluded, I’m so proud to report that I am still drawing and sketching every day.

Here is what my sketchbook pages look like now. I’d include more in this email, but Substack is telling me this post is starting to get too long.

But even with this small selection, I can see a huge difference. I’m learning to develop full scenes and interesting characters, all of which are feeding into my current focus on children’s illustration and storytelling.

I hope this was fun for you to see. I know it was a real rough start with those creepy stick landscapes, but thanks for sitting through this with me to the end!