In the last few months I have been snatching bits of time away from work so that I can enjoy some time with my sketchbook. My sketchbooks are not elaborate. Mostly simple pen lines straight to paper. I often have a plan but sometimes I start at the top of the page and work my way to the bottom. By the time I reach the bottom of the page the images are often different than what I planned.
Lately I have been drawing treehouses. My brothers and school friends and I would often build a treehouse after school or on a lazy weekend and then we would spend an afternoon hidden among the leaves in a tall tree eating candy, reading comics or devising ways to make our treehouse even better. Our treehouse was often just a platform made from scavenged wood, nails and rope - borrowed or stolen from trash heaps or junk piles. These sketches are not those treehouses from my childhood but, to me, they still represent the safe haven, independence and long summer afternoons high up in a tree.