A few weeks ago I bought a new journal. A special journal specifically made for the community of
. Acquiring a new journal is a pretty regular occurrence in my life, one would call it a guilty pleasure. I have a stack of partially-used journals sitting on my desk as we speak. But I didn’t want this journal to turn into what those had become–a combination of jotted down notes from meetings, some reflections and ideas for the book, and lists of groceries or daily to-dos. I wanted this journal to be sacred. Only to be for this Cramming for the Apocalypse journey. If only I could draw, I said to myself when I bought it. And then I said the same thing aloud to my writing group: “I just wish I could draw well and I would make this a written journal and sketchbook.”Not a week later artist and educator
(aka WendyMac) announced that she would be leading a 30-day Drawing Challenge through her Substack. I have been a fan of Wendy’s since Samin Nosrat’s beautiful book Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat came out. Wendy’s illustrations throughout the book are exactly what I wish I could do–simple, beautiful, and very clearly what they are meant to be. I was excited to give it a try. I figured this challenge could be a way for me to learn something and maybe bring drawing into my life. This challenge was part of the adult-centered community of Wendy’s DrawTogether community. The paid membership of what is called The G.U.T. or The Grown-Ups Table helps fund the incredible work DrawTogether does for kids that I was introduced to during the pandemic when parents were flailing in isolation. What’s not to love?So starting on January 1st, Wendy would send out daily prompts and lessons that would guide what would turn out to be over a thousand of us in a daily drawing practice. The only rule was that we keep it to 10 minutes. The point of the timer is to develop a daily habit where you actually enjoy it. Stop when you’re in the flow, you’ll be excited to get back to it tomorrow. Keep going on too long and you’re not as excited to return the next day. “The key is to draw just long enough to get into the groove, then stop right at a moment when we are feeling GOOD,” Wendy wrote in the introductory post.
Before the new year hit, I eagerly visited the craft store where I rarely, if ever, buy anything for myself. It’s usually to pick up some more craft supplies for Finch or presents for him or another birthday kid. This visit was just for me. I asked questions of the lovely staff, I wandered slowly admiring the different drawing pens and I ogled the watercolors. I came away with a set of watercolors, some drawing pens, and a mixed-media sketchbook that would be my drawing challenge book for the month.
And then, with much anticipation, the 30-Day Challenge began. I was nervous it would be too hard for me and that I wouldn’t enjoy it because I sucked. That fear washed away from the moment I started reading Wendy’s first couple challenges. That first week was dedicated to Doodling. Each day Wendy presented us with a different type of “doodle” that was inspired by a real deal artist. This, to me, was mind blowing. I mindlessly doodled all the time. On phone calls with friends, if I wasn’t pacing the room, I was drawing the same endless line of vaguely botanical figures. And lo and behold, one of the lessons tapped into that same style. I was drawing all along, I said to myself.
Fully bought into all of this and my confidence a lot higher than I expected, I posted my results in the group chat every day and scanned others’ creations and liked and celebrated everyone’s results. It was so amazing to see the different styles, abilities, and creative minds out there. And it was even lovelier to just be part of a community of people trying something out and being brave to share their creations with the world.
About a week into the challenge I realized how linked this challenge was to my own Cramming for the Apocalypse project. The story I told myself before launching into drawing–that I was bad at drawing and should just not even try–is not dissimilar from the story I told myself about all the skills I’m attempting to build through this project. As we get older we tend to convince ourselves that we’re good at some things and we should just stick to those things. Alas, if we don’t try something out, how do we even know? I tell my kid this every day with the vegetables on his plate, but don’t tell myself this with all the amazing things to learn out in the world every day. All it took was a nudge and a community.
It’s the same thing with all the preparedness skills. I don’t expect to be an exceptional artist with my work hanging on gallery walls. But I can have fun with it and I can maybe even make some art for my own walls. I don’t imagine I’ll ever become a master gardener, but like this drawing challenge, I found out this last year that I actually do like gardening. I’m still just okay at it, but that’s just enough to keep me going with it
Another way this relates to this journey is that it taps into the childlike spontaneity of life. Several days into this challenge, I created art alongside my son who very clearly has a talent, but more importantly just loves drawing and painting and creating. If we forget to put his art stuff away at night, I’ll find him downstairs in the morning already mid-art project. Now I can do this with him. Several of the weekends during the challenge, we’d both just get lost in painting alongside each other.
I had just started writing the chapter of my book about how I need to slow down and learn from my kid. And boom, there it was. Drawing. It also became a way to keep my hands busy that didn’t involve grabbing my stupid phone.
And above all, I discovered the meditative nature of drawing. As a naturally anxious person–which has thankfully been toned down thanks to Lexapro (I’m a believer in SSRIs y’all)–I get pulled in a bunch of different directions with my to-do list every day. When I found myself in that overwhelmed mode, I decided it was time for the drawing challenge. Immediately as I sat down with my paper and pen my mind cleared and my nervous system calmed. It was these moments when I became a believer. It didn’t really matter what the end product was, it was the process, the emotions I was working through, the calming of my body, and the complete absorption in that activity that was involved.
To say that I’ve been “drawn into” (see what I did there?) to the world of drawing is an understatement. I’ve become a true believer. I’ve been furiously texting questions about best art supplies and photos of my drawings to my incredible artist-friend Amanda Burnham (who made the cover art for this very newsletter). I’ve made several additional visits to the art supply store, particularly when Finch decided to claim my new colored pencil set as his own and when I realized the travel watercolor set I borrowed was definitely not going to hack it when I was now fully obsessed with the medium.
As I sat down to do the final 30-day challenge–drawing a diploma for my achievements over the past 30 days–I listened to Wendy’s truly beautiful and moving “commencement speech” she recorded for us to listen to during our ten minute drawing session. I couldn’t help but get choked up as I drew. It felt so relatable to all the journeys that involved me trying to carve some kind of identity for myself asking when is it okay to call myself a “writer”? Is a writer an artist? If I don’t think I’m good at drawing, can I call myself an artist? Wendy answered that with these words:
Being an artist means actively looking and listening to the world and the people in it. Being an artist is engaging with the world in small and big ways, both and making connections between the two. Being an artist is MAKING THINGS. When we make things and share them with others, we contribute to the growth of a system bigger than any money-based economy. We contribute to an economy of hope. Of real possibility.
Every one of you who draws with me here at the Grown-Ups Table is an artist. Not because you know how to draw a drop-shadow or render two-point perspective. But because you are curious, you care, and you create.
That is what we do here at the DrawTogether Grown-Ups Table.
That’s who we are: Curiosity. Care. Creativity. Connection.
I mean, just gold, right? I’m full on into the GUT and I can’t wait to sit down with all the other community members each week and draw and share. And also, of course, that journal I wanted to fill with drawings and writing and all those things is now full of words and sketches. But best of all, I have a new way to become more rooted in myself.
All of WendyMac’s GUT lessons are all archived for paid subscribers. Each lesson is so well done, comprehensive, and inspiring. I can only imagine the time and energy it took Wendy to put each of those together for 30 days straight. She’s a powerhouse, y’all. And now that the 30-day challenge is complete, she’s back to the regularly-scheduled weekly GUT posts which I will be eagerly awaiting each Sunday
. Come and join the GUT with me!
I love this article because as a teacher I became acutely aware of how quickly childhood wonder and confidence and love of art turns into doubt and fear and loss of confidence. I’m not quite sure how it happens and it made me sad that my older students lost the childlike joy of creating. I spent my entire career trying to convince them otherwise.
Of course I love this! ❤️🎨