A bracket fungi is a universe in itself, if you look closely. Photo and drawing by Kleo Bartilsson.
I will run a nature journaling course this summer. When I sat down a couple of months ago to write the course description, I started thinking about why I love nature journaling so much. Then I started thinking about what others like about it. And then how to explain what’s so great about it to someone who never heard of it. I started to realize there are probably as many reasons for journaling as there are people journaling.
What I found fascinating about nature journaling to begin with was actually the look of it. I found the nature journal spreads of both historical and modern artists mesmerizing. I knew that it was something I wanted to try out for myself. So, in a way, my perspective was a bit shallow, as I did not comprehend the multilayered depth of nature journaling. All I wanted was to make pretty pictures, and to feel like a 16th century explorer.
A mesmerizing nature journaling page from the year of 1575. Victoria and Albert Museum Number AM.3267H-1856.
The illustrations in my journal really did turn out pretty, but it did not end there. I started noticing that my mindset was changing. I have always been a person who like to spend time outdoors. I have been nerding deep down into butterflies and mushrooms, loving to take strolls in any weather and was already all over the place checking for fungi, flora and fauna. But now the journaling was shifting my attention. Instead of just noticing stuff, I was actually seeing them. I think I know why.
Observing a coltsfoot. Photo and drawing by Kleo Bartilsson.
A couple of years ago I read a well known book called Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, by art teacher and author Betty Edwards. The book is actually a drawing course, and Edwards teaches that we have two different modes in our brains. The theory is based on the assumption that the different hemispheres of the brain has different ways of solving problems. However, she was aware that most activities require contribution from both hemispheres. So she named the two modes L-mode (left-hemisphere) and R-mode (right-hemisphere). The modes are to be understood as two different ways of solving problems, no matter where located in the individual brain.
On her website www.drawright.com, you can read examples about how the different modes work:
“For L-mode, the left hemisphere verbal, analytic, sequential system: Balancing your checkbook. We do not want creative, intuitive checkbook balancing. We want step-by-step verbal, numerical, sequential analysis”.
“For R-mode, the right hemisphere visual, spatial, perceptual system: Facial recognition. We do not analyze a face, naming each feature in sequence, in order to recognize the face of a friend. Recognition is instant, visual, and global (all-at-once).”
The book gives a whole bunch of exercises to turn that L-mode of. It teaches that anyone can learn how to make a realistic drawing. When gaining access to that R-mode, that perpetual system, drawing is easy.
A student example of drawing-skill progress after just a few days following the exercises in Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain.
Image from www.drawright.com.
Now, does this have anything to do with nature journaling? It has everything to do with it! When I grab my sketchbook and my pen case, and head out to find a motif, I start scanning my surroundings. I go straight into that verbal analytic L-mode. “There is a wood-anemone, there is a crocus.” What a beautiful tree!” “That leaf looks kind of boring. “And so on.
I’m still not able to walk the earth without evaluating the things I see (working on it) (just as our society tells us, so that is not so strange after all). But! When I pick up that boring leaf, to start my drawing, then the magic happen. Because, to be able to draw it, I have to stop evaluating it. I have to look beyond everything I ever thought about leaves. Leaves as a concept no longer exist. It’s just this shape. That is when I know I’m in the right mode, no matter what it is called.
To be able to draw, I have to stop thinking and start seeing. Photo and painting by Kleo Bartilsson.
There is something spiritual about this for me. Maybe because I’m a person who tends to overthink things. Drawing from life is true presence. It’s seeing what everyone else is missing. It’s gaining entrance to a world most people don’t know exists. Like how fluffy a downy feather actually is. Or how beautiful the wing of a moth is. It’s beyond beautiful. I guess you can’t describe it in words, and that is the whole point.
So maybe you fill your journal pages with pretty pictures. Maybe everything turns to blurry splotches. Maybe you draw to remember, to document nature, to learn new techniques or to just pass the time. It really does not matter. The essence is to observe. To leave your judging thoughts for a moment and shift your attention to the subject. Nature journaling teaches us so much more than just skill. When I truly see a natural object, I see that it has it’s own value, just by existing. Now, what if I take that understanding with me, when I put my journal on the shelf?
See more of Kleo’s work on her website: here. Follow her on instagram @kleobartilssonillustration.