Usually when I finish off a sketchbook, I have either a feeling of accomplishment because I’ve managed a few competent scribbles within or relief in that I finally put an especially irritating pad that I made the mistake of purchasing out of my misery. With this cheap little scratch-pad I got for Christmas, I felt sad as I turned to that last page at the local YMCA. The sketchbook which had given me so much was giving it’s last.
Not the last page, but second to last.
I never felt this way about another sketchbook. Then again, I’ve never had a sketchbook where I was as happy with the stuff I was putting into it. Ideas bubbled up from it’s wire-bound pages. It seemed to be it’s own cure for creative block. The blank whiteness of the pages did not stare back for very long. I guess that’s why it didn’t last very long.
Goodbye, not very old friend.
