Sketching in public can be intimidating. One of the things I had to struggle with when I started out as a ‘person who sketches’ was public scrutiny. I hated it when someone would hover behind me, maybe make a comment. I sketch – which means that the drawings I do are scrawly and often quickly done. They might be messy, they might be incorrect, they might even be awful – and I am fine with that.

The objective is to record the moment. Sometimes that can mean a slow and careful rendering of architecture, and sometimes that can mean a quick and jumpy composition of the person having lunch at the next table. The sketch isn’t meant to be judged. It’s a means of connecting and recording. When you are sketching in public, you are, in effect, naked, and there is little protection from the public gaze.

So when a stranger leans over my shoulder to peer at my page of scrawls, I cringe.

I’ve developed a few moves to minimize unwanted intrusions when I am sketching in public.

I usually try to find a corner that is out of line of sight, though that is not always good for a clear view. If you can, position yourself so that people can’t look over your shoulder.

I work usually in a compact sketch book – my favourite is the Hahnemuhle 5×8, a small landscape sketchbook, good for ink, watercolour and wash. And I use minimal equipment, often just pencil, a kneadable eraser and a Sakura Pigma Micron drawing pen. People hardly notice that you are drawing when your equipment is so small.

And most important, get over being shy about your work. Sometimes the encounters you will have with people who are interested in what you are doing will be some of your best travel memories. I have had lovely conversations with people when sketching in public, many of whom express a long held desire to paint and are wondering how to start, or maybe they are just friendly people who are looking for conversation.

Case In Point: Sketching in public has led me to some good conversations and provocative encounters. One fine afternoon, sketching in London, I had found a quiet bench beside the Thames in Putney and was deeply absorbed in sketching the rowers – this part of the river is the starting point for many of the major boat races and rowers are on the river at all hours practicing. I had just roughed in the outline of Putney Bridge when a young girl, maybe eight or nine, sat down beside me and peered into my sketch book.

She was very chatty – her name was Annabelle, she lived here in Putney and she was waiting for her Mom who was over wishing good luck to her sister who was about to take part in one of the boat races.

“Why are you drawing the bridge?” she wanted to know, in that direct way that some children have.

“Because I think it has an interesting shape and the light is very nice right now.”

“Why don’t you just take a picture of it?”

“Because this way I get to really understand the bridge and to appreciate it.”

“What does that mean?”

So I asked her to stand up and turn her back to the bridge. “Now”, I said, “tell me how many arches there are in the bridge.”

She thought for a bit. “Hmm, maybe three?” Maybe four?”

” Annabelle, you’ve been looking at that bridge since you were little, but I don’t think you have ever really ‘seen’ it. There are five spans to the bridge.”

She was quite surprised to discover she was not as observant as she had thought. “So, if I sketch things, I will notice them more, right? I think I will start drawing things too”

When her Mom arrived, we had a good talk, and Annabelle put in an request for a sketch book and pencils and it was a thoroughly enjoyable encounter. I didn’t get much drawing done, but it was a good afternoon nonetheless.

And maybe Annabelle is still drawing and noticing.