You can do it anytime, anywhere. That's why I started drawing.
When I see something, be it a thing or a living creature, I'm captivated by the atmosphere it silently radiates. In the beginning, I didn't mean to draw, just scribbled. Drawing over and over again occasionally brings my mind someplace I never thought of. I keep on drawing, to see what comes next.
A line left by a pencil improvising on a piece of copy paper turns into a plane, when its ends meet and inside is filled with color.
I’m bound to a rule I made—draw lines, and color emerging fields—which allows me to just let my hand drift around and create at least something. The results are often very different from my ideal, but as I make those shapes one after another, I feel: “Well, this would also be fine, once in a while.”
My hand does not move like a high-spirited dog romping around excitedly, it's more like one lost, clueless in a vast field, sometimes only able to wander in the same place awkwardly.
The drawing goes on like that, with trust in what's taking shape, capturing the very moment of its making.