When did I start taking my art seriously?
: this issue's on connecting the dots, my husband's cancer, and what's in my sketchbook
When did I start taking my art seriously?
Seriously…I don’t know. It wasn’t a grand plan of mine. I didn’t have a vision of myself donning the artist's beret.
I always thought I couldn’t draw, even when I have been drawing sporadically over the years. And enjoying the spark. You know, the spark, when you are in the zone doing something.
I wished I could tell you a story like how I have read the stories of other artists. How they were prolific since young, painting after painting, how they went to art school, how they followed their passion…
I wasn’t prolific then, and I am still working on being a prolific artist now. I am on a young journey to discovering my creativity, and I’m just at the beginning of a career as a working artist.
Looking way back, trying to connect the dots of my life, what I do remember is—the stacks of art books my mum bought for me, along with stacks of Enid Blyton, of which, perhaps, are the seeds for my imagination and love for art, words, and the whimsical.
I remember looking at the figure drawing books, and learning how shapes are formed to make up the human torso, legs, arms, etc. I remember proportion for portrait drawing. Maybe those art books and storybooks kept an only-child me entertained and occupied.
I now also realised how my mum’s siblings are artistically inclined. Different ones would paint, draw, play the guitar, sew, and do arts & crafts. In her spare time, my mum painted, cross-stitched, taught Ikebana floral arrangement, and taught making cute figurines with clay. Little did I know, I was being nurtured by this creative environment.
Then, I grew up. Forgotten about all these.
And fell in love with writing.
I thought that’s what I will do. Write. Including writing for this newsletter.
In the process of trying to carve something out from this newsletter though, I got frustrated—artistically. I felt that I couldn’t freely express myself as I wanted to. I felt like I have put myself into a box of keeping to the image I have projected to my readers.
Out of the frustration, came a porcupine.
I started a new newsletter, only telling less than a handful of people whom I felt safe to be the lunatic that I am. At first, I even wanted it to be an anonymous newsletter.
I called it The Porcupine Lab. Er, the porcupine is me.
Long story short of the porcupine…the lack of inhibition from not giving two hoots about what niche to focus on, what to write, whether my drawing is ugly, should I post on Instagram, or…an end in mind…gave space to discovering that—oh my porcupine, I actually enjoy creating art. A lot.
The porcupine has freed me.
So. I began going along this path of maybe I could do something about this art thing. That was in 2021. I started with line drawing. Using just black fine-liner pens to create intricate drawings fascinates me.
Fast forward to 2023. I feel that I am growing stronger and getting bolder in experimenting with different mediums. And more open to being uncomfortable to grow. To be skilled. To create. To produce artwork. Lots of them.
I may not pinpoint when did I start taking art seriously. But it doesn’t matter. What matters to me is—I am taking it seriously. And I’m beginning to learn to have fun with my experiences of becoming an artist; mistakes and detours included. Happy to have you come along this path with me.
Life.
It has been hard for the past few months. On the third day after we landed from Portugal in January, my husband’s right ankle and calf were suddenly swollen. That started the whole hospital runs of going to the A&E, doctors’ consultations, doing a biopsy and PET scans. We found out that one of his tumours (lymphoma since 2017) is now over 7 cm big. As usual, the doctors' standard protocol is strong chemotherapy.
That was a struggle for us. I‘ve lost all sets of biological and step-parents due to cancer. The worse experience was with my mum. I believe it traumatised me. And I suspect I have not had the closure of the grieving process after ten years. Cancer and chemo are just awful memories for me.
But, there are no other options seemingly.
We kept praying. For no chemo needed.
To our relief, the option of radio suddenly opened up from one of the doctors. The latest scan showed that the tumours are now localised, and targetable by radiotherapy. (Five years ago, the tumours were around his right neck, shoulders and lower body. Five years later, the ones on his neck and shoulders are gone, and the ones left are around his lower body.)
We took that as our “no chemo needed” answered prayer. And we are still praying strong, with friends from Malaysia to Portugal praying with us.
As I’m finalising writing this today, my husband has gone through 14 times radiotherapy. It’s a 5 times/week x 3 weeks treatment. We are counting down T1 to the end of his prescribed sessions: March 24th 2023.
Going through illness is not merely a physical issue, it’s also a huge mental challenge. "I felt very lonely", said my husband.
Yes, as much as anyone can offer support, it is only the patient who has to step into the cold radiotherapy room, experience the side effects, and battle the war in their mind.
Though it might take time to regain some life normalcy, given the recovery period to heal from the post-treatment side effects, we are looking forward to no more daily hospital trips.
What's in my sketchbook.
I have been sketching a lot more recently. With different mediums. Some are for practice. Some, just for fun and stress-relieve.
From the radiotherapy waiting room.
It’s better for the mind to sketch than to mindlessly scroll through the phone when one’s waiting for her husband to emerge from the radiotherapy room.
Random sketches before sleep.
From Sketchbook Revival 2023.
I’m taking part in the Sketchbook Revival Online Workshop 2023. The workshop runs from March 30th to April 1st 2023. All sessions are available to watch until April 20th. It’s free. And it’s for everyone who wants to have fun exploring their creativity. You can try it too.
I did the first two short, 30-minute workshops and they blew my mind. I discovered different ways to sketch quickly (with 100% fun and play!).
I have never been successful with sketching regularly. Wanting to get things right, waiting for the right moment, and having the right tools, all became barriers to my growth. Discovering ways to sketch quickly in this way is so freeing. I’m still smiling from my heart as I’m telling you this.
Update.
My art prints now come unframed to ease the logistics of shipping. They are good-quality giclée art prints of my original artwork on fine art paper. Starts from €30. Shop now.
Thanks for reading, and thanks for being here. You can always reply to this email or leave a comment. See you in my next issue. Take care.
💖 Melinda
On love—the 18th-century preacher Jonathan Edwards said that love restores “an excellent enlargement, and extensiveness, and liberality to the soul.” Love is opening one’s heart to another. And once your heart opens, the door keeps getting wider. Love expands. The more you give, the more you have. 1
Excerpted from Tish Harrison Warren's New York Times paid newsletter article on How a scrawny rescue dog taught me a lesson about love.
Much love to you
Sending you much light! I was wondering why your Porto adventure ended suddenly. I hope that they are taking care of your husband, and that you will both be able to join the daily life with no hospitals together. Beautiful Moon!