People sometimes ask why I spend so many hours drawing a single animal.
The internet is enormous. You can find a photo of just about anything in seconds. It can feel like information overload. Every animal imaginable is right there at your fingertips.
Now, most of us don't print random wildlife photos from the internet and hang them on our walls. We scroll past them. They're interesting for a few seconds, and then they're replaced by the next thing.
Take a dik-dik, a saiga, or even a giraffe. A giraffe has a neck that's unbelievably long, and because it can't bend its front legs the way we might expect, it has to spread or cross them just to drink water. How crazy is that?
Okay, sorry. Back to my point.
These animals exist in this incredible world, but most of us never spend enough time with them to really appreciate how fascinating they are. I think living with an image every day, whether it's hanging on your wall or slowly taking shape on a drawing board, gives you the chance to notice things you otherwise never would. It sparks curiosity. It makes you wonder how an animal evolved to look the way it does or why it behaves the way it does.
For me, that happens while I'm drawing.
Layer after layer, my hands are busy while my mind is free to wander. Instead of dwelling on the things I can't change in my everyday life, I get to think about nature, textures, colors, anatomy, and all the little details that make each animal unique. It's one of the few places where my mind finds a little quiet.
Finding that balance isn't always easy.
The temptation is to disappear into my work from sunrise to sunset. I would love nothing more than to lose myself in a drawing all day. But reality has a way of reminding me otherwise. My mind may want to keep going, but my body has different plans. Multiple sclerosis and spinal stenosis mean I have to stop often, rest, and accept that I can't always work as long as I'd like.
That can be frustrating.
But maybe that's also why every finished piece means so much to me. Each one represents hundreds of small decisions, countless breaks, and a refusal to give up just because the process takes longer than I'd like.
When someone looks at one of my drawings, I hope they don't just see an animal. I hope they pause for a moment, notice something they hadn't seen before, and carry a little of that curiosity with them after they walk away.