Page 9 - sarah-simblet_sketch-book-for-the-artist
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                                                                                                                                                              WHERE WE BEGIN

MAKING OUR MARK                                                                                                     FIRST PORTRAIT
                                                                                                                    For sorre forgotten reason, the
It seems reasonable to assume that we have engaged                                                                  hair of my first portrait was most
in pictorial mark-making for as long as we have made                                                                important. Eyelashes take up as
conscious use of our hands. In cave paintings like the                                                              much of my attention as the head
one opposite, we see our oldest surviving images, created                                                           itself. I now think this is a picture of
by societies of hunter-gatherers, who in their day-to-day                                                           proximity, reflecting my experience
hardship made time to picture themselves and the animals                                                            of looking closely at my father's
on which they depended. Cave art was not made for                                                                   face. Even though it is made by
decoration but as a fundamental part of life, an expression                                                         a toddler this image would be
of existence, power, and belonging to place.                                                                        recognizable to anyone.

                                                             On a particular afternoon in September 1974, at age two-and-

                                                             a-half, I was sitting with my mother. She gave me a notepad

                                                             and a red crayon and asked me to draw her "a picture of

                                                             Daddy." Until this day, I, like all toddlers, had happily

                                                             scribbled, enjoying the physical sensation of crayon on paper,

                                                             and the appearance of my strikes of colors, but I had never

                                                             yet attempted to figuratively picture my world. The image

                                                             above is what I gave back to my mother, and she kept it as

                                                             my first step beyond the delighted realms of scrawl.
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