So many RVers,
especially full-timers, have creative hobbies that they continue on the road.
Some people knit, do woodworking, or absorb themselves in other crafts. Some devise elaborate recipes for
RV-friendly dishes that can be taken to potlucks at rallies. I envy them; such
skills have always escaped me (my head is usually buried in a book). While we
are traveling I do continue blogging and other writing, but that is rather
abstract until it results in actual publication. I’d like to do something
tangible.
Being a member of
the California Native Plant Society, I recently read their curriculum guide Opening
the World through Nature Journaling, which
helps teachers integrate science, art, and literature. One section in
particular appealed to me:
instructions for sketching and writing in a nature
journal. This could be what I’m seeking as a craft for myself.
Before photography became possible, naturalists like Darwin and Linnaeus drew accurate and appealing sketches in their field notes. Even today, biologists often find sketches indispensable for making complete notes in the field.
As a college student, I enjoyed both a basic art class and the botany and zoology classes where I drew hundreds of cat muscles, chick embryos, flower parts, and so on. Though I never became an artist, I learned to use sketching as an essential tool for observing plants and animals closely. During my years as a biology textbook writer and editor, I made many rough sketches for professional artists to use in illustrating everything from starfishes to redwoods.
Before photography became possible, naturalists like Darwin and Linnaeus drew accurate and appealing sketches in their field notes. Even today, biologists often find sketches indispensable for making complete notes in the field.
As a college student, I enjoyed both a basic art class and the botany and zoology classes where I drew hundreds of cat muscles, chick embryos, flower parts, and so on. Though I never became an artist, I learned to use sketching as an essential tool for observing plants and animals closely. During my years as a biology textbook writer and editor, I made many rough sketches for professional artists to use in illustrating everything from starfishes to redwoods.
It is one thing
to draw and paint in an editorial office having lots of space and tools; it is
quite another to do so in a compact RV. Luckily, the curriculum guide
emphasized using colored pencils and small pads of paper. All my journaling
materials fit in a plastic pouch no larger than an iPad, and I can easily slip
the pouch into a daypack with my binoculars and water bottle.
Living on the
western slope of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, I never lack for living things to
sketch near home. We have oaks, pines, and deer; even the rare bear may show up
(though in that case I probably would abandon my sketching). On the road, the
possibilities are even more inviting. We often see living things we want to
identify, and take photos of them, but a detailed annotated sketch can provide
much more helpful info. When I have a chance later to check a reference book, I
can look at my journal to find out whether a plant’s leaves are opposite or
alternate, or how many stripes are on an insect’s abdomen—information that may
not be obvious in a photo, no matter how attractive the photo is.
It has been many
years since my college art class, and I doubt that my colored-pencil sketches
will ever be considered works of art. They will be useful for careful
observation, though, and the journal will be a concrete result of my new craft.