Don't snap, sketch

Trading our constant snapshots for a sketchpad could be the perfect way to slow down and remember to observe the world around us, says David Gillett

- David Gillett

LUDLOW, the Shropshire market town dubbed ‘the loveliest town in England’ by Sir John Betjeman, has it all: the curving embrace of the River Teme, a brooding medieval castle, a concentration of some 500 listed buildings, delectable food shops and a glorious church accessed by an alleyway of ancient pubs. I go there often, but by way of a little black sketchbook, rather than in person. I open a page and I’m back at the Harp Lane Deli: I remember the weather that day (sunny), the noise of the market behind me (bustling) and the Yorkshire terrier inspecting my foot (somehow both nosy and dismissive).

Drawing is to photography what walking is to driving: it’s more work, it’s slower, it demands patience and it’s something we’ve increasingly forgotten how to do. Yet it pays dividends: the work is the reward, the pace allows a scene to sink in and be appreciated. Concentration breeds a contemplative mind set and it’s something that can be re-learned. Anyone can draw, and the more you do it, the more you’ll want to.

I always travel with a camera, but, with my Luddite love of drawing en plein air, the distractions drop exponentially. It’s likely that more photographs have been shot in the past year than in the whole first century of photography: we all carry cameras in our pockets now. However, after posting a few selfies, we go tumbling down the rabbit hole once more, scrolling our way to a world of worry far from the Georgian streetscapes we’ve travelled three hours to enjoy.