Over twenty years ago I started losing my eyesight, very suddenly and unexpectedly. Before long I was unable to see a pencil line, then Biro disappeared and, after several years of gradual sight loss, I was left using thick black pens to write notes. Over time even these became difficult to read.

I had always been far better at three-dimensional arts and crafts, and firmly believed I was unable to draw at all, so parting ways with pencils really didn’t seem like any kind of tragedy at a time when I was losing the ability to read, drive, pursue photography (one of my passions) and even see the smiles on the faces of those I love.

Over the past few weeks I have found myself drawing compulsively and producing work of which I would have been proud when I was fully sighted. But once I am more than six inches from the page I can’t see what I’ve produced, so I don’t actually know what my work looks like to a sighted viewer.

This blog is intended as my journal of discovery as I learn techniques and how I can use them within my limitations, and, in the process, learn so much about myself and reflect on loss, acceptance, realism, perfection and imperfection.

‘Pick up a pencil.’

So why does a blind woman suddenly decide to start drawing?

I will go into the details of my sight loss and the different ways I work in a later blog, but for now imagine you are wearing a pair of glasses with a smear of dirty Vaseline in the middle of each lens. Then pick up a pencil and try to draw something. That’s an approximation of what I’m working with, so what the heck am I doing even trying to draw in the first place?

We could blame all this on Toyah. I was a massive fan of hers in my teens and, in an idle hour or two a couple of months ago, I watched a YouTube interview with her. When asked for her advice to young musicians today she pointed out that the Internet gives all of us the opportunity to publish our creativity direct to the world, and that you don’t need many loyal followers to bring in a modest income.

I am a writer by training, but have only ever been paid for web material and live theatre projects. I have never pursued a relationship with an agent or publisher, despite having produced copious amounts of poetry and prose, and several scripts. My training and background give me the confidence that my work is of a high standard, but I have never fancied diving into the world of publishing. It seemed like a huge effort for little reward.

Reflecting on Toyah’s words, I read a couple of books on independent publishing, and I decided to publish some children’s books I have been working on. And that’s where the art comes in.

My initial thought was to try to team up with an illustrator, but that seemed like a massive hassle and, after all, this whole independent publishing thing was just an idea which may come to nothing. I dug out a thick pen and some old Braille paper and tried to sketch a guide dog for one of the books….

I turned out something which I, and more importantly my small grandson, thought was cute. I salvaged some old water damaged sketchbooks and tried a few more…..

And then I hit YouTube again, searching for tutorials on drawing cartoon dogs. I’m aware that I’ll need to achieve consistency for the books, and I need to be a lot confident that I know what I’m doing. I tried a few more cartoons relating to other Characters in the books, but everything seems so flat.

So far everything was produced using a thick felt tip pen and some wax crayons. I realised I need to know a lot more about perspective, shading, colour blending and choices, and the list goes on and on.

Back to YouTube where one click lead to another and I found some great stuff with abstract artists in Australia. I was fired up by those singing colours, so I dug out some pastels to play with and took some inspiration from Ken Done and others, learning learning with every stroke.

I really did try to keep away from anything involving pencils, but I just couldn’t resist those wonderful Proko drawing tutorials. And then, of course, I had to have a go. I dug out all my old sketching materials and got stuck in.

I had some drawings I was feeling pretty good about, but I was really nervous about using colour and shading. I’d never even heard of values and tone and cast-shadows before all this. So I decided to work on some basic exercises to see if I could cope with the whole colour and form thing. And that’s when I really surprised myself.

I found that, using pastel pencils, I can build up a little form. I learned so much just doing these few little exercises. I took the plunge and added some colour to one of those drawings, and even shared it publicly. This was a huge step for me and I was ready to be disheartened by the response. People liked it.

I’ve raced through the story of the first three weeks also of my affair with a sketch pad. And I have hardly told you anything about how all this can possibly work with someone who is registered blind. I have so much more to share with you and in the coming posts I will talk about what I have learned playing with shading and texture – light and shadow, and then perspective – reaching towards a sense of realism, trying to make things appear heavy or distant. The whole thing has become utterly absorbing. And some of the weird stuff coming out is quite a surprise to me. It seems there are places I go when drawing which I never visit when writing. I look forward to sharing more of my discoveries with you soon, and letting you in on some of the secrets of drawing with broken eyes.

I’m having to be very disciplined to ensure that the writing still gets done, but I am increasingly confident that this blind woman will be illustrating her own books before too long.