Michael Nobbs

Tag: creativity

  • Drawing in the Dark (Again)

    A softly lit tea-tray scene resting on a crocheted blanket. On the patterned tray are a lime-green teapot, orange Stanley mug, stainless-steel flask, and a carton of Alpro Barista Oat milk. In front of them lies an open sketchbook showing a bold drawing of the same objects, partly coloured with red, blue, and ochre Neocolor crayon. A small lamp casts a warm yellow light across the page and teapot, turning the whole arrangement into a cosy night-time study in repetition and reflection.

    I was excited to pick up my sketchbook this morning. After yesterday’s experience of drawing in the dark, I was keen to experiment a little more.

    Only a little light

    There was a small pool of light cast from my bedside reading lamp to the left, but the tray in its usual position on the bed was mostly in darkness. I could just make out the familiar shapes of the things on it, but much wasn’t clear.

    I began with the ninety-degree Perspex handle on the lid of my new bright orange insulated mug. I drew the gentle curve of the top of the mug and immediately felt the comfort and pleasure that can come from drawing. I couldn’t see the shape of the mug’s handle, so I drew that from memory — and did the same with the Stanley motif on the front.

    Next came the flask, drawn a little less clumsily than yesterday, and the milk jug — a mix of what I could see and what I remembered from drawing it so many times before. Then the oat-milk carton. The top half was lit better and I could observe it directly, but this wasn’t my usual brand, so when I reached the darker lower half I left much of it undrawn. Then my teapot: familiar from memory, but not quite right.

    Choosing colour by instinct

    Finally I added the crocheted blanket the tray was sitting on. As yesterday, I chose colours without seeing them clearly — relying on the remembered length of each crayon and a sense of how light or dark it felt. I did better at choosing today, though I didn’t know for sure which colours I’d picked until daylight began to seep into the room.

    At first, I hadn’t planned to include the illustrated hens on the mat (or to colour it), but I was enjoying the session and gaining confidence in drawing from memory. As the room brightened, I could make out the white shapes of the hens, though not their details, so I added a few approximations. To finish, I coloured the mat with what I hoped was a Neocolor II Ochre crayon — it was.

    A litte fiddling!

    When I decided the drawing was finished, I realised there wasn’t much space left to add the date, so I tucked it into one of the white borders of the crocheted blanket squares. Unable to stop myself fiddling (and breaking my rule of the drawing being finished when I add the date), I added a couple of small touches of colour where I’d missed before — the only moment of dissatisfaction in an otherwise deeply satisfying drawing.

    A closer view of the open sketchbook resting on the tray, its pages filled with a line drawing of the morning tea-tray — the Alpro carton, flask, teapot, and Stanley mug — outlined in black and filled with bright blocks of ochre, red, and blue. The yellow lamplight gives the page a golden tone, echoing the warmth of the objects around it. The date “12-11-25” appears in the top corner, anchoring the drawing as part of the ongoing Tea-Tray series.

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  • Drawing Through a Transition and a New Understanding

    An open sketchbook lies on a bed beside a tray. On the tray are a white ridged jug, a small green teapot, and a bright orange insulated mug on a chicken-patterned mat. The drawing in the sketchbook depicts these same objects and their arrangement. Coloured pencils and a small reading light are nearby. The scene is softly lit with warm, indirect light.

    Two new things in my world

    When something changes in my small daily world, it can feel larger than it might seem to someone else. I often need time to learn how to be alongside the new thing — to find its place and let it find mine. Drawing can help with this — not always straight away or with one drawing, but over time, drawing by drawing, I can begin to feel comfortable with the new and unfamiliar.

    Today’s drawing, The Shock of the New shows the start of a transition. I have a new bright orange mug and a new turquoise tray mat covered with small white chickens. I really love them both, but on my tray, in this drawing, they both felt out of place — loud, jarring and too new.

    Drawing through the discomfort of transition

    In the drawing, the new mug appears only partly on the page, as though it hasn’t quite entered the familiar world of the drawing yet. The chickens on the tray are clumsy — my hand doesn’t know their shapes, so it feels its way slowly, uncertainly. Nothing is fully settled. I am still working out how these new things belong.

    As I stayed with the drawing, I noticed that something began to shift a little. The new objects didn’t feel comfortable, exactly — but they felt less abrupt. I wasn’t trying to make them fit, but I was enjoying exploring them and and feeling the possibility that they might.

    What I’m beginning to understand

    I’m beginning to see that drawing helps me move slowly through a change, to sit with the discomfort of it, and to let something unfamiliar become part of my world. In that sense, it is a therapeutic process.

    More than that, I’ve realised today (with a quiet shock of recognition) that my recent drawings have also been revealing a little more about me than I had quite seen before. I think that understanding is part of another transition and I need to let it arrive slowly too — drawing by drawing.

    A close view of an open sketchbook page showing a line drawing of objects on a tea-tray: a ridged jug, a small teapot, and the upper portion of a tall insulated mug. The tray mat beneath them is turquoise and patterned with small repeated white chickens. Areas of flat colour appear in turquoise, black, and orange. At the top of the page, handwritten text reads: “The shock of the new. Trying to draw my new mug and tray mat among the more familar (sic). I'm not very good with change.” The image is lit by a soft orange light, which may be somewhat altering the appearance of the colours.
    The Shock of the New (6th October 2025)

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