In Praise of Pencil:

Why I Never Left It Behind

When I first returned to making art, I had a toddler under two and very little time. Life was wonderfully chaotic, and I needed something simple. Something I could pick up quickly, leave out without worry, and carry with me from room to room if needed. When my second child arrived, this became even more important. I could step away from a drawing and return hours later without the paint having dried or the colours needing to be remixed. Pencil became my companion.

In those early days, I did what many do. I tried to impress the watercolour. It was, after all, the industry go to, and it seemed the natural path if I wanted to build a career in art or design. But no matter how hard I tried, watercolour never felt like me. It felt like someone else’s language, someone else’s rhythm and even though I’d spent many years painting before, watercolour was just not quite me.

So, I gave myself permission to let go of what was expected and simply see what would happen. I needed to find out who I was creatively. And for me, that meant going back to the beginning: drawing. I believed then, and still do, that strong drawing is the foundation of everything. If I could draw well, I figured, everything else would gentle fall into place at least for me.

And then something unexpected happened. I never left pencil and pencil never left me.

I got my first proper set of drawing pencils on my sixteenth birthday from a girl at boarding school. I still remember her clearly. It was such a thoughtful, unexpected, beautiful gift and she clearly saw that art was something I loved. I still have those pencils. They’re much too short to draw with now, but I will always treasure them and that small moment that meant so much to me.

I’d painted before for many years, mostly in acrylics and oils and maybe one day I’ll return to them. But pencil just felt honest. It felt like me. We’ve developed a quiet understanding, pencil and I a shared affinity that speaks in soft, deliberate strokes. My style has softened over time as I remind myself as I draw “softer, softer, softer”.

There’s something grounding about working in pencil. It’s quiet, slow, a little raw. It slows you down in the best way. You can see every mark - every hesitation, every bold gesture of confidence, and every little thing that I like to call a ‘happy mistake.’ Even when you try to rub them out, the paper remembers - an impression is forever left on the paper. Even if you try to fix it or hide it, it remains, now part of the story. Each of my pencils makes its own unique mark, and I reach for the same ones again and again. They remind me of those old paintbrushes. Crusty from years of use, always sitting in a jar and still the ones you reach for every time.

Pencil gives me everything I need. It’s portable, personal, tactile and always ready to tell a story. It’s also what makes my designs feel different in a world full of watercolours and digital polish.

And it turns out, those are the things I love most.

In a world that moves fast and favours the finished and the flawless, pencil reminds me to slow down. To notice things. To find beauty in the imperfect, the simple, the quiet, and the intentional.

….. a story from the world of Dianne Stark