Michael Nobbs

Tag: small steps

  • Drawing without firm ground

    A sketchbook lies open on a blue patterned tea tray resting on a multicoloured crocheted blanket. The tray is white with cut-out handles and lined with a cloth covered in repeating hen shapes. Beside the sketchbook and on the tray sit a lime-green teapot, an orange insulated Stanley mug with steam condensing under the perspex lid, and a carton of barista oat milk. The drawing across the two sketchbook pages shows the same objects arranged on the tray: the mug in the foreground, the teapot above it, and the oat-milk carton to the left, all outlined in loose pencil lines. The background of the drawing is filled with many small hen motifs, repeating across both pages. Handwritten text within the drawing reads “Looking for comfort in the familiar” and “Trying to find some ground. Is there any?”.

    I made a drawing this morning hoping for a little comfort. I drew the objects I know: mug, teapot, oat milk, tray. Familiar companions to steady anxious hands.

    As I worked, I found myself thinking about “firm ground” — the feeling of being steadied by something reliable. I’d hoped the drawing might give me that today. But as the lines unfolded, I realised that hunting for ground might be what pulls me off balance in the first place.

    Maybe there isn’t firm ground in the way I keep wanting it. Maybe drawing is simply a way of staying with that uncertainty for a few minutes at a time — accepting the unsteady surface, line by line, rather than trying to find something solid underneath.

    A note to self: perhaps comfort can come from letting go of the search.

    A closer view of the open sketchbook resting on a blue hen-patterned tray cloth. Only the drawing and a small portion of the white tray edge are visible. The two-page spread shows loose pencil outlines of a lime-green teapot, an orange insulated Stanley mug, and a barista oat-milk carton arranged across the tray. The pages are densely filled with repeated hen motifs drawn beneath and around the objects. Handwritten phrases inside the drawing read “Looking for comfort in the familiar” near the top edge and “Trying to find some ground. Is there any?” along the lower right corner.

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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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  • Drawing is Free Session — 27th October 2025

    A loose portrait drawing made during a live online Drawing is Free session. The sitter has short orange-brown hair and wears a blue top. Drawn in pencil and crayon with quick, searching lines and a few patches of colour, the image captures the immediacy of a short pose.
    A quick pencil and crayon portrait of a man with short hair and a blue collar. The drawing shows the head and shoulders in three-quarter view, the marks spontaneous and lightly layered with blue and black lines.
    A sketch of a person with brown hair, hand resting near their mouth. The drawing combines delicate pencil lines with small areas of colour, suggesting the warmth of the pose and the brevity of the sitting.
    A portrait of a sitter wearing a blue, red and white hood, with dark hair, eyes closed, drawn quickly in pencil with subtle hints of crayon. The marks feel spare and attentive, made during a short timed pose.
    A portrait drawing of a young woman with black hair, one hand touching their face. The lines are light and open, made with pencil and wax crayon, showing the immediacy and informality of drawing in company.

    I’m very pleased to have made it along to this morning’s Drawing is Free session.

    I only managed the first half hour today before my energy began to fade, but it felt good to find a little rhythm again after Covid.

    Eight drawings — shared here are five, it took three to warm up and find my drawing mojo — made with whatever was to hand: a Blackwing 3 pencil, Neocolor II crayons, and a few old wax crayons.

    This morning was a gentle reminder that even a short time spent drawing together can be enough to make life feel a little brighter.

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  • Sometimes Things Just Can Work Out

    A close-up of an open Moleskine sketchbook showing a late-night drawing of an Oatly Barista Edition carton and an Energizer light bulb box on a green surface (the tea-tray). The handwritten text records a 4:30 a.m. moment when George found a replacement bulb just after one had blown. The drawing was made with a Blackwing 3 pencil and two Neocolor II crayons (black and light olive). The real objects — carton, bulb box, and Onion Soup mug — rest on the tea tray behind the sketchbook, all on a plaid blanket. The image conveys quiet domestic calm and the small satisfaction of things unexpectedly working out.

    Today’s Tea-Tray drawing, made at 4:30 a.m. when I couldn’t sleep.

    An Oatly Barista carton, an Energizer light bulb box, and my Onion Soup mug were all on the tea tray, though the mug didn’t find its way into the drawing.

    G. had just found the bulb while looking for something else, moments after one of the lights blew — a small thing, but it felt like a sign that maybe not everything has to be difficult. I was about to put the bulb box into the recycling and then decided I could draw it instead. A tiny decision, but one that changed today’s drawing from my more usual composition. (I’m going to put the bulb box into my physical Ephemera archive.)

    It was drawn with my Blackwing 3 pencil and two Neocolor II crayons (black and light olive). I felt very dopey and suspected I wasn’t equal to the task, but I’m glad I persevered — so that now this drawing exists as a tiny record of a quiet moment of domestic calm, and the small satisfaction of things unexpectedly working out.

    The full text reads:

    4:30 a.m.
    Very dopey drawing. G. found this bulb when looking for something else. Perfect as one of my bulbs had just blown (do low-energy bulbs blow?). Sometimes things can just work out.

    A closer view of the drawing in the sketchbook, showing the loose pencil and crayon lines depicting the Oatly carton and Energizer bulb box. The handwritten notes describe tiredness, coincidence, and the relief of a small thing going right. The textures of pencil and crayon are visible on the paper, revealing the dopey, half-awake energy of the 4:30 a.m. drawing.

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