My Sordid Past in Sketching

I started college as an architecture major. I've always had a sweet spot for buildings, and I decided as a middle schooler that I wanted to be the mastermind behind at least a few of some really great ones. And, I came from an architecturally inspiring city. Sounds like a recipe for a future architect, right?

Well. Once I got into the studio, I quickly realized I'd have absolutely no time for writing. In fact, I had little time for sleeping, eating and, unfortunately, bathing, let alone writing. Even though in the end I elected to graduate with a degree in American Studies, I still harbor a love of all that is the built environment. I'm grateful I live in an area where I can still gawk at wonderful structures without having to travel far at all.

While I was still a zombified architecture student, my first sketching assignment required I pick three structures from my hometown to pair with three structures on campus and present them on some ever-loving, God-forsaken Strathmore board, which soaks up pencil lead like a devil-sponge and cannot be erased. It has to be very carefully shaved off with an Exacto knife, and if your professor notices what you've done, you can bet you just lost a letter grade.

Sorry. Flashbacks.


This house is in old Sand Springs on the north side of the river. Rumor has it that a husband built it for his wife who, shortly after the house was complete, passed away. I'm not sure who owns the house now, but I would love to learn more about it and its history. In my opinion, it's the most beautiful house west of downtown.

Of course, I had to draw this...


...at night. I was fearless in college. I was also a good sketcher, apparently, because I got the highest grade in the class on the assignment, whcih was nice since it was pretty much the only assignment I got during architecture school on which I made a grade higher than 79 percent.

Even so, I still make a sketch from time to time, especially when I'm downtown and see things like this:


It's images like these that make my fingers itch. Then I start longing for the bright, chilly mornings spent in that architecture studio, working alongside some incredibly talented friends and exercising my creativity and cutting off the tip of my left index finger and splaying blood all over the parts of my final project I'd already built in Strathmore board.

Then I remember that architecture school is for people who eat nails for fun.