Looking through old sketchbooks

I used to do a lot more sketching than I'm doing now.  Yesterday, I was sitting in Johannesburg airport, bored out of my tree, and I started drawing.  I drew whatever I saw: the strange space-station-style architecture, the flat horizon, the huge thunderclouds.  And as I was drawing, I remembered how much I love it. It was like meeting an old friend, and realizing when you see their face how much you've missed them.  

I don't draw, really draw, nearly enough any more.  There always seems to be something else to do, even painting can get in the way. (because we all know that painting isn't really drawing)  

Yes, I'm an artist, and I don't draw every day.  It sounds terrible to admit it. 

This afternoon I had to open up the storage box that held all my old sketchbooks.  There was a client in the States who wanted a scan of a sketch I'd done at a Leonardo da Vinci exhibition a few years ago.  I didn't know exactly which book it was in, so I had to thumb through all of them.  

I hardly wanted to look; I wanted to cover my eyes and only peak through my fingers.  Sometimes I don't want to see my old illustrations, because I'm not happy with them.  Wouldn't the sketches be even worse? 

But I've decided that the only way to move forward is to be vulnerable. So I looked...

...And guess what!  I loved those old sketchbooks!  I loved how much I was experimenting; trying to figure out how to see the world on paper.  I loved that I made mistakes, and then drew more to figure out why something worked or didn't work. I loved how I could see the progression in my style and confidence.  

How do you feel about old work?  

I've posted both of these sketches on this blog before, but I thought I'd share them again.  

Here is one of the sketches of Joburg airport.