I owe you a confession. Neither I am a professional artist, not I have any inclination to become one. For the last four years my hands not even once got dirty of ink or paint! Trip to Balkans changed it a bit and my sketchbook became my best companion during the long hours in trains, buses and in the cities I have never been before.
My overall experience is not that long. In the past I happened to sketch hundreds of technical drawings for Museum of the Earliest and Ancient History of Thuringia in Weimar (there is still some blog about this project online). A great deal of middle-aged potsheds, broken pieces of ceramic vessels, carafes or iron tools of daily use (spurs, nails, hammers etc.) passed through my hands. With care and attention due to the history, I draw each of them and learned how to depict sand, iron, clay using linear and render technique. Yet I hoped to draw more of different subjects - trees, water, mountains or birds.
However, this is not the bunch of sketches that made this journey so unique for me, but all the memories and social interactions that revolved around them! Different people happened to cross my way, gazed at my scrawlings, talked and very often accompaned me while I was drawing. They unexpectedly started to share their stories, being enticed by the subject of the picture and whatsoever. It felt as if these couple of sketches could open the window to their soul a bit wider. I was surprised to be given this kind of trust just because I have nothing else to do than sit and draw :)! All those people are the biggest part of the story and particularly about these tiny memories I wish to tell you here about.
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| After two weeks this sketchbook looks pretty scruffy |


Tolle Bilder! :)
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Danke ;)
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