Why undo?
Drawing in ink is like walking on a ledge. Every stroke you make remains. There’s no eraser, no “that’s it, I’ll start again.” And I love that.
Because when you draw like this, your whole body comes into play. You have to be present. You can’t hesitate. Your hand goes and you follow. Sometimes something comes out that surprises you, and other times… well, other times the paper ends up in the trash.
No, that’s not true. In the decades I’ve been drawing, I’ve never torn up a drawing. I leave it in a drawer. I forget about it. The only revenge and the only forgiveness, someone said.
I notice that when I draw with pencil, a little voice in the back tells me. “You can correct it later.” It always reassures me that changes can be made. With ink, on the other hand, there’s no margin. The stroke becomes an affirmation. Even if it’s crooked, even if it’s too thick or thin. It stays there, marking its place in the world.
There’s something honest about that.
And ink, with its strong character, its brutality, forces you to let go of control. It forces you to trust your pulse.
Drawing like this is almost an act of faith.