40 Days of Doodles Project

A review of my sketchbook from the past year reveals a rather disconcerting shift in my process. At some point in the past, I abandoned drawing for fun. The only sketches in the book explore specific designs or are illustrations of patterns. My sketchbook has become all work and no play. I desperately need to recapture that sense of play within my work and my life.

I used to sit in a park downtown every morning and doodle in my sketchbook until it was time to go to the office. Since I left the architecture firm and committed myself to growing my jewelry business and teaching, I lost my "park time". I didn't even realize what a precious time I had lost until I began reflecting on the character of my sketchbook. Something was missing in the spirit of the book; more importantly, something was missing within me. I, too, have become all work and no play. Every moment of my day is spent producing, designing, planning and it has become work.

In an effort to recapture my "park time" and regain my sense of play, I have started my Doodle-a-Day Project. My goal is to create one doodle each day for forty days. I have cut 40 3 inch by 3 inch bristol cards and keep them with my black marker. I am letting go of all of the "rules" of good design and drawing. The only rule is to engage in the act of drawing. Every day I will doodle something and share it with you: the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Lessons from My Pothos

For most of my life, I have been plagued with a black thumb. I couldn't keep cut flowers fresh for more than three days. And potted plants, forget it. Within a week, I could turn a beautiful, healthy houseplant into a pot of decay and mush. My dad was always giving me flowers and plants; to me, they were sad exiles to the punishing death row of plants that is my house. They were just another hopeful gesture doomed to remind me, within days, that I am an irresponsible failure (or a swift executioner).

One day, my friend Becky gave me a little pothos she had rooted and potted. Becky is a kind and magical individual who seems to have a deeply rooted connection with nature and the living world. She is a portrait of self-renewal and proof that people can choose to change themselves for the better. Simply put, she is everything that I am not. I thought to myself, "this poor little plant is doomed," even as Becky was extolling the virtues of the pothos.

In honor of Becky's faith in me, I decided to really make an effort to not kill the pothos. A week went by and the plant was still alive. Then a month. After about six months, the little guy had outgrown his pot and I took some clippings and gave rooting a try. It worked. A few more months and I had enough plant to try rooting a bit in water. Then, brimming with self confidence, I acquired a few more plants. Now I have a window full of semi-healthy, growing green things. Although there have been a few casualties along the way, including a supposedly indestructible aspidistra (thanks, Dad), most of the plants continue to grow.

Each time I look at that little pothos, I am reminded that I can change. I can be a better person. It hasn't happened overnight and I still make mistakes but little pothos reminds me that, no matter how old I get, I can still change myself. I, confirmed plant killer, can turn my black thumb to green (well, brownish green). I just have to keep trying; it helps to have friends who believe in you.

The original pothos (right) and some of its children.

Who, or what, has helped you become better? Please feel free to comment!