I've been looking forward to starting the second year of my degree, almost as soon as I drove out of the car park on the last day last term. This, you might think, would have resulted in at least a weekly visit, just to keep my in touch and continue working or studying over the summer.
My recurrent college nightmare may have subsided after twenty years but I still tipped up on my first day back (yesterday) with palpitations over my efforts over the summer.
We were asked to develop a project and, as usual, demonstrate our efforts using sketchbooks. Most of my efforts in this direction involved looking at other peoples' work, other peoples' sketchbooks, other peoples' creative endeavours.
I thought a lot.
I read a lot.
I visited some galleries and made some notes. I read a lot more and I thought a lot more.
The actual episodes of drawing between March and September 2011 were less in evidence.
Going back to college yesterday felt like taking some kind of super-booster, vitamin tonic. My brain is whirring. My pencil is drawing. I've already done my homework and I've discovered the glories of Youtube for research purposes. I've listened to interviews, I've worked around the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. I've had a blast and I've organised my artist files.