Recently, I’ve found myself returning to one of my greatest creative joys: working in a sketchbook. For me, a sketchbook is far more than a collection of drawings, it’s a visual diary. Each page holds a memory, a story, or a fleeting moment captured. Looking back at past sketchbooks is like flipping through a time capsule; I’m instantly transported to places I’ve visited, exhibitions I’ve been part of, and those small, everyday details that might otherwise have been forgotten.
The beauty of keeping a sketchbook lies in its freedom. There are hundreds of ways to start and endless ways to work, or play, within its pages. Some days it may be filled with loose, energetic sketches, other times with detailed studies or even notes scribbled in the margins. The key is that it’s for your eyes only. It doesn’t matter whether the pages are beautiful or messy, polished or unfinished. What matters is that each one is a snapshot of a moment in time.
Take, for instance, a recent sketch of mine. My partner and good friend were exhibiting in the Harbour Cottage Gallery in Kirkcudbright. We were thrilled to be there, but after two weeks without a break, we were all flagging. Eventually, we agreed to take a little time out separately. I wandered into a lovely café called ‘Feast’, left my phone behind at the gallery, and treated myself to brunch and a strong coffee.
It was a simple pause in the day, but without my phone to distract me, I found myself really looking. Across the room sat three women, dressed in an arty way, full of laughter and teasing conversation. They spoke about art, which of course made perfect sense in Kirkcudbright, an art town through and through. Something about their ease and energy drew me in and gently as I observed, I grabbed my small notebook that I carry in my bag, the same one where I jot down important information, and I made a quick pen sketch of my cappuccino.
This little book is unusual in its own way. When my notes are no longer useful, I simply draw over the top of them. Over time, it has become a layered, textured kind of visual notebook, half diary, half sketchbook. That quick coffee sketch may never be “finished” or framed, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a memory. A tiny, honest record of my day in Kirkcudbright.
And that’s the magic of sketchbooks: they don’t need to be precious. They don’t need to be perfect. Sometimes, all you have is a biro in your bag, and that’s enough.
In my latest video, I flip through a few of my sketchbooks to show just how different they can be. I hope it encourages anyone who feels hesitant to simply “have a go.” Don’t overthink it. Start with whatever is in front of you, a coffee cup, a passerby, the pattern of light on your table.
Your sketchbook doesn’t have to impress anyone. It only needs to speak to you.
Because in the end, it’s not about making a masterpiece, it’s about capturing moments, celebrating the everyday, and giving yourself space to pause and really look.
To download my free pdf all about tricks and techniques in watercolour, click here.
To download my free pdf all about colour mixing in watercolour, click here.