Small things I drew this month

Leaves, mostly. I filled half a sketchbook with leaves this month — maple, oak, one I'm fairly sure was just a weed I found charming — and every single one came out a little lopsided in a way that used to bother me and now, mostly, doesn't.

A mug, twice. The first attempt had a handle that looked structurally impossible, the kind that would snap the moment anyone tried to actually lift it. The second was better, though "better" here means only "recognizable," which I've decided is a perfectly good bar to clear on a Tuesday.

And a very unsuccessful attempt at my own hand — my actual hand, held up awkwardly in front of me while I tried to draw it holding the pencil that was drawing it, which is exactly as confusing as it sounds. It looks more like a glove that's given up than a hand. I kept it anyway.

Drawing badly on purpose has become my favourite hour of the week. Not "badly" as in careless — badly as in unconcerned, as in nobody's grading this, as in the leaf doesn't need to be correct to be worth the twenty minutes it took to notice its shape in the first place.