Rediscovering the Art of Drawing: A Personal Journey Away from the Digital Clutter

In the mid-90s, the world began to shift in a way that was both exhilarating and, in hindsight, somewhat overwhelming. The internet, with its infinite promise, burst into our lives, offering a new frontier of information, connectivity, and entertainment. I, like many others, was caught up in the digital wave, marveling at the possibilities. Yet, as the years passed, I couldn’t help but notice the subtle ways in which this digital revolution began to encroach upon the simpler, more tactile pleasures of life, particularly the joy of drawing.

Drawing, for me, had always been a source of solace and expression. It was a way to capture the world as I saw it, to communicate feelings I couldn’t put into words, and to immerse myself in the flow of creativity. However, as the internet became increasingly ingrained in my daily routine, I found less time and inclination to pick up a pencil and let my thoughts spill onto paper. The instant gratification and endless distractions of the digital world seemed to dull the quiet thrill of creation that drawing once provided.

It took me years to recognize the toll this digital saturation had taken on my mental well-being and creative spirit. The constant barrage of notifications, emails, and the endless scroll of social media began to feel less like a connection and more like a chain. In a quest for balance and a return to my creative roots, I made a conscious decision to rediscover the art of drawing, not as a pursuit of excellence, but as a return to the simple joy of sketching and painting, going with the flow.

The benefits of this decision were both immediate and profound. Drawing reconnected me with the present moment, a form of mindfulness that was starkly absent in my digital interactions. Each stroke of the pencil or brush became a meditation, grounding me in the now, and reducing the stress that had become a constant background noise in my life. This was not about creating masterpieces but about the process itself, the act of creation that demanded focus and yet offered relaxation.

Moreover, drawing reignited my creativity in unexpected ways. The freedom to explore ideas on paper, to play with shapes, lines, and colors without the pressure of a ‘like’ or a ‘share,’ reminded me of the intrinsic joy of creating. It was a reminder that creativity shouldn’t be commodified or curated for an audience but cherished as a personal journey of exploration and expression.

This journey back to drawing also offered a surprising benefit: an improvement in my observation skills. In drawing from life or from the depths of my imagination, I became more attuned to the details of the world around me. The way light filters through leaves, the myriad expressions of the human face, and the subtle interplay of colors in a seemingly mundane scene became sources of inspiration. Drawing taught me to see again, to notice and appreciate the beauty in the everyday.

Reflecting on this journey, I can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the clarity and balance drawing has brought back into my life. It has been a therapeutic counterbalance to the digital overload, a way to detox from the constant demand for attention that defines our online lives. Drawing has become a reminder that there is a world outside the screen, rich with colors, textures, and moments worth capturing—not in pixels, but in strokes and shades.

The digital age, for all its benefits, has a way of distancing us from the tangible, the tactile, and the real. My return to drawing has been a reclaiming of these lost pleasures, a reminder that in the act of creation, we find not just a form of escape, but a deeper engagement with the world and with ourselves. It is a journey I recommend to anyone feeling overwhelmed by the digital clutter, a path back to the simple, profound joy of making one’s mark on the world, one line at a time.