This sketchbook is my therapist. Not this one specifically, but any single one small enough to fit in my pocket. I tell it everything, from quirky thoughts and funny notes to abstract concepts, drawings and positive reminders. Keep it analog folks… a doodle, sketch, writing, poem, or scribble every day helps to keep the brain fit and the thoughts flowing. ✏️
I am an art teacher with a master’s degree—trained by brilliant professors who believed that art could do more than decorate walls. I offer safe spaces for teenagers to grow—nourishing soil where their imaginations can take root.
And yet… I am assigned to hallway duty.
This is compulsory education, after all.
So I sit—posted like a sentinel—watching young lives stream past.
“Get to class,” I say with a smile and a nudge.
The system wants attendance; I’m hungry for presence.
Armed not with a whistle or clipboard, but with a pen—
my scribble’s soft insurgency.
The hallway stretches out like a geometric hymn.
Columns and corners chant structure.
Teenagers swirl past—half-formed galaxies of limbs and laughter—
their orbits chaotic, their gravity pulling time forward.
I begin to draw.
Not their tardiness, but their motion.
A shoulder. A blur of sneakers.
A tilted head chasing freedom.
Feet flickering like seconds.
Each mark a pulse.
Each smudge a breath.
My paper becomes a seismograph of seeing—
trembling gently through the mundane.
This isn’t about making art for a frame or a feed.
It’s about refusing to leak away in the fluorescent hum of obligation.
It’s a quiet mutiny against the clock.
I do this on long car rides, too (passenger side, mind you).
Letting the lines grow wild, jagged, and unapologetic.
Not for polish—
but for presence.
This is how I remember I’m still alive.
Still growing.
Still watching.
Still choosing to see.
Because sometimes mental health looks like
a piece of scrap paper,
a moving pen,
and the simple, sacred act of
marking time with wonder.
Ruskin believed that ornament was never decoration for its own sake — it was evidence of attention, a record of the hand and eye slowing down enough to truly see. These kaleidoscope name designs are built the same way: a name broken into line, repeated outward with discipline, until pattern becomes a kind of patience made visible.mandala, kaleidoscope, radial symmetry, pattern art, geometric art, name art, marker art, hand drawn, meditative art
Threw together this pattern study last week. Been using Posca pens since December and I'm loving how quickly they dry. I can throw together quick sketches without having to worry too much about smearing the ink as I move along.
Zoomed in shot of "Pattern Interrupt". 2020. Size: 32" x 40" / Micron pens on archival museum board. This piece was all drawn freehand - no rulers or measuring tools were used to create this artwork.
“Whirlwind 9”, an original drawing. Micron pens on archival paper. Size: 4” x 6”. Title, signature, and date in the back of the drawing. This drawing is the 9th in a series of drawings posted over a period of 100 days. The original post date on this drawing was September 9, 2020.
