I have too many notebooks with empty pages and abandoned ideas. I’m also addicted to doodling. It’s a horrible combination of habits.
I have wasted hours pouring ink, paint and imagination onto lined paper, only to crumple up the scribbles and toss them to the trash. I recently went through my old notebooks and half-used journals, and I found a series of doodles that I did last year (around the months of April and May), but had forgotten to throw away. The doodles say something of where my mind wandered, and what my pen produced – it’s a bizarre rollercoaster of imagined images and misplaced paint. Before I turn them into something else or toss the lot away, I remember that doodling has made me who I am today.