The act of drawing is… a moment and a feeling committed to paper

COMMENT I have always enjoyed drawing. Although until a few months ago, I mainly managed to indulge my love of sketching at our weekly date nights, when I would take my pen roll, a sketch book and my pencil case, stuff them in a dainty handbag and take them to the restaurant of our choice for that night. You can imagine the look on the faces of the front-of-house staff at our less regular restaurants when, on arrival, I would go through my rituals: fountain pen carefully put on starched white linen, pen roll unfurled with the serviette unceremoniously pushed to one side, and the cold china underplate replaced with a sketch book of warm textured handmade paper. There is little more pleasurable than a glass of wine, great conversation, good food and sketching. The action of drawing the next line, hatching in a shadow and putting in a wash of colour is all-consuming. The perfect piece of relaxation. It was my mother who taught me to draw, showed me all the techniques I know, encouraged me to used different materials and encouraged me to do art. Of course, the act of drawing is much more. For me, it is a moment and a feeling committed to paper. Frequently, those moments don’t return. The sketch is a reminder. The earliest one for me was when I was six. My father took me to the roof of our apartment block in Tehran and together we looked at the sunset one last time before we left the country. I committed that moment to memory and later that evening committed it to paper. My parents still have that drawing. And when I look at it, I still remember that night. It was that memory that encouraged me to do the drawing a day and the desire to do something beyond work and home schooling during lockdown and why one of the earliest drawings (Day 3) is the view from our house and although the sky isn’t shown, it too was a view at sunset. A few days later, when my old friend Patricia Brown suggested that I went beyond a daily sketch book to a daily request to draw places that we have been denied access to due to Covid-19, it was no longer my own personal visual diary but a record of all the places that are special to others during a time when they are out of reach. There is also now an added layer of fundraising for the Armed Forces charity SSAFA and turning it into a sponsored draw. Seventy-three days on, as I write this, while juggling full-time work, remote schooling and a daily drawing has been challenging at times, it has and continues to be a privilege to be entrusted to draw these special places. I have had a number of kind messages from those who have asked for the artworks. They speak of memories the drawings have brought back and places they missed that they now see in front of them, especially from those who are far from their homes or loved ones. For me personally, it’s given me another outlet to focus on beyond the daily infection and death figures, something different to look forward to. Eventually, these daily travels with my pen will end. I will miss the heady mix of starting a new drawing every day, the online, lovely supportive community and the joy of making someone happy. What next? I’m hoping to do an exhibition and book with the proceeds going to charity. It’s another thing to plan for and another thing to look forward to. If anyone reading this wants to help with either of those, you know I’m only a tweet away. https://www.justgiving.com/sherin-aminossehe Sherin Aminossehe is director of infrastructure at the Ministry of Defence [gallery type="slideshow" link="none" columns="1" size="full" ids="1038430,1038433,1038431,1038429,1038427,1038428,1038425,1038426,1038424"]