Three years. That’s how long I kept my creative side locked in a drawer while I dealt with the rigid, gray logic of computer science.
For three years, my hands only knew the click of a keyboard and the glow of a monitor. But this week, I finally picked up a pencil again. And honestly? It felt like taking a first breath after being underwater for way too long.
There is something almost euphoric about the first stroke of graphite on a clean sheet of paper after such a long silence. It’s not like a screen. It’s physical. You feel the resistance, the grain, the pressure. You can’t just “delete” a mistake; you have to face it.
I’ve missed this more than I can put into words. I missed the way a simple HB or 2B pencil can manifest an idea without needing a single line of code or a software license. After years of focusing on “how things work” inside a machine, I’m finally back to focusing on how things feel on a page.
But the transition hasn’t been without its hiccups. I was sitting there, following an anime portrait tutorial, and I messed up a line. Without even thinking, I actually tried to Ctrl+Z the paper. I tapped the air where the keyboard should have been, twice, waiting for the stroke to vanish. When I realized what I was doing, I cringed hard at myself. My brain was still looking for a shortcut that doesn’t exist in the real world.
It was a wake-up call. It showed me just how deep the “digital” had gone. But it also made me realize why I’m doing this: the artist in me isn’t dead, it’s just a bit rusty. It’s time to stop looking for an “undo” button and start trusting my hand again.
It feels good to be back.
Some more pieces are on instagram and ongoing.
