It's interesting to me how sketches can evoke memories. That is, after all, a big part of the reason I'm so hell-bent on documenting my life in drawings. This little guy, for instance, reminds me of the beautiful day, the warm weather, my mom (who joined us on the field trip) and relaxation.
On the other hand, this sketch from a couple of weeks ago, sends me back to another type of place and mood. I've been fighting with some pretty intense feelings of depression here lately [and yes, I did just admit that publicly], a big part of which came to head at the conference in Atlanta where I felt as though I was simply existing, not connecting. When I look back at the drawing I appreciate it's technical qualities, but feel no love for it. It doesn't make me happy, but sad. I also drew many other things on that trip, but, for this same reason, have yet to post them here. Maybe I will one day, maybe not.
I'm curious of whether others of you get tied up in your own work this way...do they [your sketches, paintings, poems...] transport you to places you want to go, want to avoid? Is this a sign of authenticity?