For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved to draw. Whether it was doodling in the margins of my notebooks or sketching landscapes from trips I wanted to remember, art has always been a quiet presence in my life. But despite my enthusiasm, I never had the opportunity to formally learn how to draw—not in the way I wanted to. Technique, composition, the interplay of light and shadow… those were things I admired in other artists’ work but never quite knew how to achieve myself.
That changed when I enrolled in Drawing I.
As an engineering student, my days are usually filled with equations, simulations, and technical problem-solving. My mind is constantly working through numbers and constraints, optimizing, analyzing. But stepping into the Drawing I studio feels like entering another world—one where precision gives way to intuition, where mistakes are embraced, and where time slows down just enough to notice the way light falls on a crumpled piece of fabric.
One of the most rewarding aspects of the class has been learning actual techniques—things I never knew I was missing. I’ve experimented with charcoal, ink washes, and different ways of mark-making that have completely changed how I approach a blank page. Still lifes, in particular, have been a revelation. Before, I might have seen a collection of objects on a table and simply tried to copy what I saw. Now, I look for depth, contrast, texture. I see how negative space shapes the composition, how a single bold stroke of charcoal can bring a drawing to life.
Another unexpected joy has been learning from my peers. Each critique session is like seeing the world through a dozen different perspectives. Someone’s expressive linework, another’s delicate shading—there’s always something to absorb, something to inspire. It’s a reminder that art isn’t just about improving in isolation; it’s about conversation, observation, and growth.
And then there’s the sketchbook.
At the beginning of the semester, we were all given our own sketchbooks—blank, waiting, full of possibility. I’ll admit, at first, I hesitated to put pencil to paper. But soon, it became a space for pure experimentation. Quick gesture drawings, abstract shapes, studies of hands and faces. Some pages are careful and intentional; others are chaotic and filled with half-formed ideas. But that’s the beauty of it. There’s no pressure for perfection, only the freedom to explore.
In many ways, this class has given me something I didn’t even know I needed. It’s not just a break from engineering—it’s a way to engage with creativity in a deeper, more meaningful way. It’s a reminder that, even amid the busiest weeks, there’s always space to step back, observe, and create.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll carry a little bit of that mindset with me beyond the studio—into my engineering work, my problem-solving, and the way I see the world.