Beauty of drawing
Whenever I spot a bird species for the first time, it becomes my instant favourite. It usually doesn’t last, unless the species in question really is a bird of the heart. But it’s a well-oiled mental flow that unfolds on its own. My instinct always sprints ahead of me and goes like this: ‘Ooh, a [insert species name]! I’ve never seen one before. It’s so beautiful, I love it, this has to be my favourite bird.’ Or like this: ‘Wait, what’s that bird? It’s too far high up the tree, I can’t tell. Go on, take a photo, so at least you can look into it later. That has to be my favourite bird of all.’
Back at my desk, I revisit the thought process with a colder, more rational mind. Whether I was aware of the species from the start or I have to identify it first, the sequence of steps I take is largely the same:
Identify the bird (if not yet known)
Read about the species in my field guide
Look up other images online - if the bird was very far from me and my camera, chances are my photo(s) will serve the purpose of helping with identification but little else
Look up the scientific name of the species, as well as the Italian and Czech translations of the bird name. Chances are that the Czech name will be forgotten in a matter of hours, while the Italian translation is more likely to stick
Of all the photos I took, shortlist one or more I deem worthy of editing (not always is this possible)
Edit the photo(s).
I might also write a few lines on that bird encounter or the views I walked through during that birding trip. If I’m especially pleased with the photo I took, I’ll even add it to the dedicated photo gallery on my website.
Lately I’ve added one extra step to this routine:
7. Make a drawing of the bird.
I took up drawing last summer for no particular reason. I can’t remember why I thought I had to try, but I remember thinking I wanted to try and draw birds. One evening I brushed the dust off a sketchbook I’d bought in 2018 and parked in a corner of a shelf only to never look at it again. I’m not one to buy notepads unless I need them for a reason, yet here I was, six years on, guilty of that. For a couple of evenings I jotted down awkward sketches from Youtube videos. I tried it again a few days later, then again, then once more. An occasional pastime, the joy of not staring at a screen.
A couple of months in, after my second Svalbard trip, I started drawing Svalbard views from my trip photos whilst keeping up bird practice as well. I went on to buy coloured pencils, later watercolours, then a sketching course. Drawing turned into a regular practice and now I consider it an integral part of my work. It feels like the piece I missed in my creative puzzle. What was a straight line connecting writing and photography is now a triangle connecting three dots that inspire and complement each other.
Drawing has also given me a fresh insight into my writing and photography. Whenever possible, I draw from the subjects of my photos. With views I try to replicate the entire frame. With birds I might draw the whole animal or focus on parts of it: a head, a wing, a bill. Drawing has become an irreplaceable means to gain additional knowledge of birds, understand them better in all of their parts, almost taking a scientific look at them. Shapes, colours, textures, plumage: so much to notice, so much to focus on.
My writing feels richer too. Drawing, especially drawing from my photos, prolongs the time I spend processing my photos. This way, as I go through my creative flow, I take more time to think about what I’ll be writing about and how.
I’m motivated to learn and improve my drawing skills, and I’m also interested in outdoor sketching. I’d like to make it a creative act on its own, not only something instrumental to photography and writing. I do also want to carry on with this interconnected writing-photography-drawing creative work, though: see where it goes, see where it takes me.
Drawing has strengthened my understanding of both the subjects I photograph and write about and the meaning of my creative work as a whole. I’m so eager to see what’s next.
