Michael Nobbs

Tag: daily drawing

  • Dealing With Last Page / First Page Anxiety

    A view of a tea tray arranged on a bed covered with a crocheted blanket. On the tray is a patterned hen tray mat, and resting on the mat are a white milk jug, an orange insulated mug, a tall stainless-steel flask, a lime-green teapot, and a slim reading light rising just behind them. In front of the tray lies an open sketchbook. **On its left page is a dense pencil drawing of some of the items from the tray — the reading light and the milk jug — shown sitting on the hen-patterned mat.** On its right page, centred within a large area of blank paper, is a small hand-drawn version of the Stanley logo — a winged bear wearing a crown — with “STANLEY. Since 1913” written beneath it. Warm lamplight falls across the scene.

    This morning I woke with a tightness around the idea of making my morning drawing — a physical resistance to picking up my sketchbook. I’ve been working backwards through this sketchbook, so although I’d reached what was, for me, the final blank spread, it was also the first pair of pages after opening the cover. I’d been feeling it coming for days and, unusually, it had been haunting me.

    I’ve been working this way through sketchbooks for more than two and a half years — since I first returned to drawing after Mary Gordon died. It was a strategy born out of needing to avoid the paralysing pressure of a perfect first page. At first I simply chose random places to draw, but soon I settled into working from back to front. It has served me well, but with this sketchbook that first-page paralysis has reared its head again — maybe because of the recent stress around my health and all the newness.

    Interestingly, in worrying about meeting this page, I’d forgotten about the power of routine. Simply making my tea, arranging my tea-things on the tray, and bringing it back to bed found me reaching for my sketchbook and pencil and beginning to draw. I stayed gentle and started with something small and contained: the Stanley logo on my insulated mug. I’ve been wanting to draw it for a while, and its sparseness felt like the right entry point. Once that was on the page, the drawing grew easily — the reading light, the illustrated hen mat, the milk jug. Familiar shapes. Familiar company.

    I decided not to add any colour, and as I dated the drawing to mark it as finished, I felt a quiet satisfaction at having made it through that moment of resistance — and at having filled another sketchbook, one drawing at a time, from back to front.

    A close-up view of an open sketchbook resting on a bed. On the left page is a dense line drawing made with pencil showing a reading light and a milk jug, both sitting on a patterned hen tray mat. The hens form a repeating background across the whole page. On the right page, centred within a large area of blank paper, is a small hand-drawn version of the Stanley logo — a winged bear wearing a crown — with “STANLEY. Since 1913” written beneath it. The date “17–11–25” appears in the lower corner. Above the sketchbook the edges of the tray from the drawing can be seen showing the base of the reading lamp and part of the hen patterned tray mat from the drawing, along with a short pencil with a gold point guard and what looks like the base of an orange mug and a silver flask. Warm lamplight softens the edges of the paper.

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  • Needs Must in a Crisis

    A full view of the drawing “Needs Must in a Crisis,” made in the middle of the night after Michael discovered all his favourite mugs were in the dishwasher. The drawing shows a glass mug of decaffeinated tea on his familiar tray, drawn in Blackwing 3 pencil with subtle areas of Neocolor II Light Olive. Above the drawn mug, the handwritten text reads: “Middle of the night (decaffeinated) tea – all my favourite mugs are in the dishwasher, so I’m making do with this glass one (once a favourite 25 plus years ago). Needs must in a crisis…” The page sits open in a large Moleskine sketchbook, lit softly by lamplight, continuing the ongoing Tea-Tray drawing series that documents daily rituals and recovery.

    Middle of the night. Decaffeinated tea.
    All my favourite mugs were in the dishwasher, so I reached for this glass one — a forgotten favourite from more than twenty-five years ago.

    So, I made this drawing (Needs Must in a Crisis) in my current sketchbook (29-08-2025 – ), a large Moleskine that I’m enjoying using. It was made with a Blackwing 3 pencil and Neocolor II Light Olive. I’m not very sure about it. Drawing the glass mug felt quite alien, not as satisfying as drawing one of my Go Gently hen mugs. Nothing familiar about it. Making me realise just how much of these drawings are from memory (perhaps something easier to do when my brain is tired?) and how little from observation. Last night I was forced to observe and don’t feel that I did very well. That feels a little disappointing, but good to note.

    Anyway, sometimes it really is needs must in a crisis — and sometimes that’s enough to keep the rhythm going.
    A small reminder that even when things don’t go to plan, there’s always something to draw, something to notice, something to keep you company in the quiet, dark hours.

    A close-up, straight-on view of an open Moleskine sketchbook showing my “Needs Must in a Crisis” drawing, focusing on the sketchbook itself, with the tea-tray and glass mug of tea peeking out from behind it. The image conveys the intimacy of a late-night drawing session — quiet, domestic, and gently self-observant.

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