Michael Nobbs

Tag: noticing

  • Finding out that Mary Gordon had died

    A screenshot of an email message displayed on a laptop screen. The message was sent via the Go Gently website contact form and appears in a plain black-on-white layout. The sender’s name, email address, and phone number are partially visible but have been redacted with blurred or blanked areas. The subject line references Mary by name. The body of the message explains that Mary had died in a hospice in Edinburgh a few days earlier, describes how sudden her illness had been, and expresses sadness and disbelief. At the top of the screen are standard email interface icons, including reply, forward, archive, and search. Below the message, a visible timestamp shows the date and time the message was received. The rest of the laptop screen is dimly visible around the email window.

    From March 2023, this screenshot shows the message sent via my Go Gently website, informing me that my dear friend Mary had died a few days earlier.

    See also: Moleskine Invoice and Drawing Mary (upside down).

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  • Moleskine Invoice

    A screenshot of a digital invoice dated 10 March 2023. The page lists two sketchbooks — a Moleskine Sketchbook and a Moleskine Pocket Sketchbook — with item codes, prices, VAT, and delivery details. The document layout is plain and administrative, with black text on a white background, order number and billing address at the top, and confirmation of next-day delivery at the bottom.

    On the face of it, this little piece of digital ephemera shouldn’t matter. It’s simply an order for two Moleskine sketchbooks made two and a half years ago. But it’s much more than that…

    Firstly, these two sketchbooks were the first I bought after returning to drawing following a ten-year break.

    Secondly, the date of the invoice shows that they were bought on the same day I heard that my friend Mary Gordon had died.

    Mary dying was the catalyst for my restarting to draw. I remember clearly that when I heard she’d died, I knew — suddenly and without doubt — that I needed to draw again. That I didn’t want to die without at least trying to get back to a drawing practice.

    What I didn’t remember was just how closely these two events — hearing of her death, and ordering sketchbooks — sat together. According to the invoice, they were not just related, but simultaneous. The sketchbooks were bought on the same day.

    That realisation has given this little digital record a much greater significance — it has become a timestamp that shows not just when I returned to drawing, but why.

    See also: Finding out that Mary had Died and Drawing Mary (upside down)

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  • Two Cartons of Oat Milk

    Sketchbook drawing showing two cartons of oat milk, a mug, and a teapot. Handwritten text reads: ‘Two cartons of oat milk on my tray this morning. I’m feeling very jittery. Am I drinking too much tea? I hope not!

    Here’s today’s Tea-Tray drawing. The text reads:

    Two cartons of oat milk on my tray this morning.
    I’m feeling very jittery.
    Am I drinking too much tea? I hope not.

    Often (usually?) my drawings are simply a record of a moment, of what’s here in front of me — the clutter, the small absurdities of my tiny life, the quiet noticing of how I feel. Today it’s two oat-milk cartons, a teapot, and a cup of tea that’s probably gone cold while I was drawing.

    Open sketchbook on a tray beside a mug of tea, two cartons of oat milk, and a green teapot. The drawing on the page shows the same scene with handwritten reflections about drinking too much tea.

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