Corban Wilkin

Drawing is the Gateway to the Soul

I’m not very good at talking.

The idea of going on a trip where I would be with a large group of mostly strangers all day long for two weeks fills me with anxiety. This October I did just that, travelling to KwaZulu-Natal in South Africa with CBCC (Children’s Book Creators for Conservation) to work with Wild Tomorrow.

I have much to say about the work of the conservation groups we met and the value of art and books and public communication in helping to tackle the considerable issues facing our natural world, but my initial surge of feeling and thought regards the people I got to know in South Africa and the power of drawing in real life.

I didn’t prepare adequately for the trip.

I had a fairly profound anxiety response to the upcoming trip and the emotional and social demands it would make. My response was to shut out these demands and refuse to think about them. As it approached, I seriously considered cancelling the trip several times.

I decided that to cope I would use my sketchbook as a shield, a place to hide my eyes, something to busy my hands. Maybe I could hide myself behind that sketchbook for two weeks.

But then something else happened.

The sketchbook, rather than becoming a wall, became a window. Rather than a way of avoiding communication, it became a way of communicating.

To my surprise and profound joy, my travelling companions, rather than seeing my drawing and note-taking as something antisocial, saw it as a direct communication of what I was seeing with my own eyes, and what I was feeling and thinking.

It was as if by drawing, I was opening a dialogue with people.

Throughout the trip, not just artists, but all kinds of people approached me by using my sketching as a way in. How many people feel comfortable complimenting a complete stranger, ordinarily? But when you draw, people do. They smile and they like you. They laugh if you’ve captured a drawing of someone they know. They talk about their own creative projects, or their children. It’s like they see something of your naked soul, and feel they can trust you.

My kind and generous companions in CBCC told me with a frankness I’m not used to that my drawings enriched their own experience of the journey. Many of them are artists themselves, and of vastly greater talent and experience than me, so to have felt that I could contribute to their experience in my small way is nothing short of a blessing.

Drawing my experience of things allowed me to engage with what was happening in a way I couldn’t have without drawing. And not only that, it allowed me to share my experience of things with others.

And people understood.

I underestimated how open and authentic people can be when you reach out. I didn’t really know how to reach out, but I discovered that you can do it with a drawing as much as with speech.

As the trip went on I found myself regretful only that I hadn’t done more in advance to get to know the people and the places I would be going to, and to contribute to the good-hearted work that Wild Tomorrow and CBCC are doing.

I hope that this is just the beginning for CBCC led by Hayley and John Rocco, and for my relationship with them and all the other wonderful people involved.

I started listing everyone to thank, but there are so many that I am bound to miss someone out. Just know that if I met you in the past two weeks: thank you. The kindness and spirit and generosity of you all has been one of the great privileges of my life to experience.

Please consider donating to Wild Tomorrow at: wildtomorrow.org/cbccdonate