On Monday I sat in my living room drawing what I could see of the world around me. The usual things: lamp, tv, coffee table. I branched out and began drawing things I could see out the window: houses, power-lines, cars, a lonely bicycle. By the time I had finished, I had a bunch of doodles, and I liked them all.
I love that simplicity. I didn't have to get out a bunch of paints, or find some giant piece of paper. I just drew, little doodles, in my little doodle book, and there they were.
I have a long history of pretending like these "little doodles" don't matter, or don't count. I've been telling myself they aren't "real art". They aren't "sellable" or "worth anything". I've been discrediting them my entire life. Be it society, or the world of college-level-art-history, or even my own insecurities about my worthiness, it doesn't matter, I'm here now to change all that nonsense. These doodles MATTER.
These doodles could very well be called the backbone of my work as an artist. You could even dare to say these doodles are what make me an artist. I'd venture to say these doodles ARE ART, and they count. They are as real as real art gets, and I'm going to keep doodling them.