I was hanging out with my son this morning. We couldn’t partake in our usual play excursion in the woods because it was a rainy day. I couldn’t help but think of the Cat In the Hat and quickly became bored. We headed downstairs to my studio and I rummaged around in stacks of old stuff. I found a sketchbook from 2003. It wasn’t just any sketchbook…it was one of my road journals.
Back in my early twenties I had dropped out of art school, had been arrested more times than I could count, and was enrolled in a pro wrestling school. After sustaining a near disfiguring facial injury from a ring wearing rotten bastard of a bouncer in a red neck bar, I briefly reevaluated my life. I quite my wrestling training and headed to Southern California. Despite falling in love with the weather, I rarely went out and left some months later. I went to Florida close to the Atlantic Cost. When away from the beach I found the humid climate harsh and the mosquito swarms horrible. I went out way too much in Florida. I had a lot of fun, was stabbed through the hand, and barely escaped prosecution.
I returned to Texas broke. I slept on my parent’s couch for about a month when an old pal we’ll call Cotton called or came by. He needed a partner to travel the US delivering furniture. So I was off again. We had a lot of fun traveling in that huge 18 wheeler. In Australia they call them “Road Trains”. Anyway we lived in a big furniture warehouse in North Carolina when we weren’t traveling down the highway. we slept on beds that were later sold to consumers as new. I thought of myself more as a writer before the long trip with Cotton began.
After dropping out of art school where I majored in Graphic Design, I gave up on drawing and hadn’t so much as picked of a pencil to sketch in about three years. Graphic Design and the school I attended had left a bad taste in my mouth to say the least. It was on the cross country trips with Cotton that I started drawing again. He wasn’t much for literature so he didn’t get my writing. I needed a way to entertain and express myself, so I bought a sketchbook and some number two pencils. That’s how I rediscovered my love for sketching. I filled the notebook with hundreds of drawings. Many were autobiographical and some were merely fantasy, but they were almost all certainly depraved.
Finding the road journal today took me back through a very fun but chaotic period in my life. The crude comic style drawings made me proud of the technical progress I have made. Flipping through the pages reminded me of experiences that set me on my career path and it really, really made me glad I quite drinking. Seriously.
Anyway, I began to wonder what I could do with this sketch book which documents a chunk of my life. Its littered with hundreds of funny, perverted, sad, and psychotic drawings. They don’t represent much technique but are a clear example of raw talent and commitment. I thought about scanning the pages of the journal and putting together a book or maybe I’ll auction off the original road beaten journal sometime in the future. Who knows? I’d like to upload some of the photos here on my blog, but then I would have to change my setting to x rated.
Until next time