The only reason I drew in the first place was to impresses my sister who is an art prodigy in my eyes.

I
pretty much idolized her in every aspect of my life. Her hobbies were my hobbies. Her interest and
dreams were my interests and dreams. Drawing when my sister drew or asked me to. I have a core
memory of being on top of her blanket and being taught how to draw the joker (she was in that phase)
and that was only thing I drew for a whole entire year.

The time she was away for University I bought my own 100-page sketchbook to be far better than she
ever was. In simple term, to brag. In the first few pages I only realism, portraits of other people on the
internet because I specifically remembered her telling me it was her weakest skill. Of course, to get an
upper hand on her, realism had to be strength. Also, I believe only realism equaled to “good” art. The
first drawing I ever did took me three whole days to complete. During the time, I would randomly open
to the page to see my accomplishment. I felt so proud of it, and with this one drawing I already
surpassed my sister (I didn’t but it was everything I hoped and wished for it, perfection in my eyes. Now
it’s the most hideous thing to ever exist. I can’t even look it away without feeling disgust that I thought it
should be hanged in a museum.

The sketchbook shows my progression in art but also times where I gave up and didn’t pick up a
sketchbook for 2 months straight. There were moments where putting my pen down a paper caused me
frustration because my drawings didn’t look “good” enough to be produced. I felt stuck in one place, the
skills I had didn’t allow to draw like the people on the internet. People were completing three or four
sketchbooks in the span of the time of myself completing one. Also, people who were younger than me
were producing higher quality.

I used to get on video calls only to show my newest drawing to my sister, not to catch up or anything.
After she graduated highschool she stopped drawing all together. There was no one to real reason to
keep going expect for myself. Which was hard because I need motivation other than myself to push
myself to impress others. I still barge into her room so I can get told my drawing looks good. When I
completed my sketchbook, I looked back all the way to the very start. I felt for some reason nostalgic as I
had a specific memory attached to each drawing. The times where I drew while camping or at 3am
listening to music. The weird thing is even though I stored the sketchbook away in my closet, I seem to
flip through it often. It’s like seeing my childhood pictures and reminiscing about the past and my
emotions in that time. I bought three different sketchbooks to start my second journey, but it seems I
don’t have the same motivation as I did before.

The more I practiced the more my skills improved and the more I could see my progression in art.
There’s a reason why it’s a cliché to say practice makes more perfect because it does and proven by
millions of people. Everything we are able to do was because of simply practice, from walking to eating.
Even though I am not going to art related school or profession. The skills I gained throughout one
sketchbook could be applied to all future hobbies or jobs. Anyone can draw even if people say they have
a skill of a baby. Everyone had to start somewhere and the people who are artist started at the same
starting line, they just kept on pushing, never giving up. That’s all how to improve in art. If you have real
passion to