My sketchbook habits are so erratic. Sometimes it's like I'm leaving doodles like surprises for myself through the book, just waiting to be wrecked with ink some weeks later. Much of it is probably indecipherable for anyone save myself. Often, just figuring out perspective, plotting action, images and figures crammed over one another, jammed onto a page.
Then, big, wide, open pages. Like I'm preserving the image.
And, sometimes, I am. A handheld museum of the mind, an assemblage of my best and worst kept secrets.
-Jam
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