It is a constant struggle for all artists, I think, to translate the energy and immediacy of the first, inspired scribble of an idea into the final piece. And I wonder if it is partly this that makes showing images from sketchbooks so exposing; you worry that it underlines how the final worked up piece fails to live up to the spark and promise of the initial idea.
The other reason, in my case, is that the contents of my sketchbooks (or scraps of paper, or backs of receipts) look more like the scratchings of a confused inventor of pointless things than studies for works of art.
In the pages of these notebooks I will jot down the plot of last night's half-remembered dream, record a bon mot overheard on a bus journey, and roughly depict a strange specimen happened upon in the corner of a museum display.
They make sense to me all of these things, but the makings of a masterpiece they are not. They are a way of pinning down the peculiar things that flit around in my brain and recording things that have sparked my curiosity. In my posts on here I hope to spark your curiosity in turn and share the joy of things that I find fascinating in the best way I know how.
PS - Those mole's feet (sad face) can be found here.
PPS- Speaking of curiosity, a friend gave me this book recently and it is a real treasure trove.