A few months ago I was struggling to change my default drawing style. Since I started drawing with a Lamy my drawing has plateaued.
But anyway instead I read Elmer.
And I’m still on the plateau.
Inspired by my ten years of inktales, I decided to religiously draw every day. Here are some drawings from a trip I took last week, flying from New Delhi to San Fransisco for work.
I took an Air India flight for the first time, and it wasn’t impressive. However my travel companions were really interesting to draw.
At the immigration counter in San Fransisco, my employer and the software that I work on, always turn out to be magic names, no credit to me🙂
And the most surprising of all, the driver of the shuttle that I took from the airport was a native Aramaic speaker. It sounded like a beautiful language.
I was lucky enough to meet my friend Lekha – our trips overlapped by a few hours. By the fountains we caught up with our lives. Thank you America.
While going through my archives, I found these pages from a 2004 journal. The brown boy and I had just gotten married, and I was resisting all the extended family’s combined pressure on me to start propagating the species.
In this angry book it seems that while I did not want to have a baby, I knew all about the details of bearing one. What a know-it-all I was.
The other day this blog inktales completed 10 years. That’s one of the longest relationships I’ve ever had.
inktales started as a way to share my sketchbooks to my friends living elsewhere, bang in the middle of web 2.0 where blogging was becoming popular. Drawings moved from these 98 sketchbooks (2002-2016) to the 540 posts (2006-2016) on this blog. After a few years I even had a guide to inktales.
Now there are close to 1000 fans on Facebook, people I don’t even know, and even my parents and sundry extended family see my drawings on inktales. So thank you for all the appreciation, it’s very humbling.
[Sometimes in the living of every day
I often forget about the life of it
the intentionality, “the composing of the life”
that I once set out to do. The daily bustle,
that once emerged from me –
often swallows me up
until all I can do is hold on for dear life
to banal rituals
so that I don’t lose myself.]