Chapter 9. Sketchbook Memories

When I was ten years old, my parents gave me a thick sketchbook for my birthday.

I asked them why, and they answered me with a smile.

“Because we noticed that you love to draw.”

It wasn’t such a big deal. All the other kids liked to draw as well. We did so many drawing and coloring activities in preschool. Coloring books were the norm as well.

But I liked to draw a different way from my other classmates.

Instead of shapes, fruits, animals, houses, and landscapes, I liked to study different things. I would stare at my mother’s hand and try to replicate it on paper. I would try to get the lines right, to capture the perfect width of each finger, and even the little details like the fingernails, the knuckles, and the wrists.

I would practice drawing faces, legs, hair, and arms. I was interested in the human anatomy and how it worked in various movements. Sometimes I would try painting still-life using watercolor, but I was more interested in humans.