When we’re little and first discover drawing, we – and by we, I mean all of us – use a set of symbols to describe what’s going on around us, to represent people, parts of the body, clothes, emotions, houses, animals, the sky, the sea, cars, etc. In other words, we are all natural-born cartoonists. While not everyone wants to be a cartoonist when they grow up, everyone, I believe, could draw cartoons if they wanted to. It’s strange how few people agree with me. Everyone can draw, and the strange thing is most people believe, actively, that they can’t. Everyone can draw a smiley face, ergo, they can do cartoons. As Picasso said, “Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist when you grow up.”
I have a vivid memory of when I was little, maybe four years old, showing my dad a picture I’d done. My dad was wildly enthusiastic about it , and told me to go off and do him another one. Then my brother, 16 months younger than me, went up to show dad one of his drawings: dad looked bored, slightly disgusted, turned it around a few times to try and figure out what it was (he didn’t ask my brother), and handed it back, dismissively. I don’t think my brother has ever drawn again. I’m very lucky drawing was considered such a girl thing in my family. My dad’s reaction gave me the self-confidence not to accept any criticism of my drawing. At school if my classmates or my teachers didn’t like my drawings, didn’t think my drawings were very good, I knew deep down that I was good at drawing and they were all wrong.
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