James's Shoes

I have not been drawing for a couple of weeks because of my exams. It frustrates me when I cannot draw. I once heard someone say that all children draw, but only some strange adults refuse to give up the habit.

I do not know why we give it up. Plenty of us write our thoughts down in a diary, but never sketch shapes. But drawing makes me happy, and I like to do it as much as I like to write words. Maybe we stop because of the inadequacy of the result. None of us, though, have the draughtsmanship of Leonardo: that does not make it useless to us, since by that thinking, only our finest novelists should pick up a pen to write even a shopping list.

I stopped drawing between when I was 15 and when I was 19. I do not know why. I don't even know why I started again, I just felt the urge to, and have never stopped for more than a few days. My drawing has improved only a little since I started again. I do not think it will ever improve greatly, but I enjoy doing it, and think that more people should make it a part of their lives.

This is a drawing of my flatmate James's feet. He is wearing trainers, sitting in the living room in Rosefield Street, Dundee. There are dirty glasses and a side table in the drawing. There is always something to draw.