The Ugly Sketchbook
April Letter - Posted From DC
Dear friends,
This April, I’ve been in D.C. for spring and to celebrate my New Year — the Sri Lankan New Year. We marked it the way we always try to when we’re together: with food. We spent a day making sweets and preparing a big dinner, frying kokis, making milk toffee, sharing stories in the kitchen.
Back home in Sri Lanka, New Year marks the start of the solar new year, usually in mid-April. It’s a time filled with rituals — lighting oil lamps, visiting relatives, wearing bright colours. Even though we’re far from home, we recreate what we can. These small acts setting the table, laughing together, making old family recipes remind me that culture travels with us. Even in a far-off place, we can carve out space for celebration.
When I wasn’t visiting family, I was wandering outside, soaking in the blooms.
The neighbourhood felt like it had exploded into colour — azaleas spilling over fences, tulips stretching toward the sun. I found myself pausing again and again, just to take it in. Sometimes it feels like the world is nudging me to slow down, to breathe, to look.
And this month, creatively, I’ve been doing just that: slowing down, looking, experimenting privately.
I’ve come back to drawing after a long gap, and it’s been harder than I expected. My hand feels unsure. My eye wobbles over the page. And, to be honest, I’ve been battling the voice in my head that says, What if it’s not good enough? What if it’s ugly? What if no one wants to see this?
That’s why I started the “ugly sketchbook.”
It’s just an old blank book I had lying around, nothing precious. I gave myself permission to draw in it badly — to make warm-ups that go nowhere, perspective boxes that fall apart, wobbly pen lines I can’t erase. And you know what? It’s been one of the most freeing things I’ve done for myself.
I’ve been using tools like the Proko app (which has great practice exercises) and Practice Drawing This (a site with timed references) to warm up, explore, and rebuild my hand. It’s not always pretty — some pages are messy exercises, some are half-finished thoughts but it’s mine. And more importantly, it’s honest.
Sometimes it’s just warm-ups. Sometimes it’s fundamental drills. Sometimes it’s a little drawing that surprises me something joyful, unplanned, and fully mine.
I’ve also felt drawn back toward crafting — slow, tactile work that reminds me how good it feels to make things with my hands. I don’t know yet where this will lead, but I’m letting myself stay curious. No pressure, no deadlines, just exploration.
So while this month might have looked quiet on the outside, it’s been a full one — full of family, of blooms, of hesitant but steady lines, of reclaiming a part of myself I thought I’d lost to burnout.
Do you have your own version of an “ugly sketchbook”? A space where you let yourself play, experiment, and reconnect with what you love? I’d love to hear about it or even see it, if you feel like sharing.
I hope you enjoy this little letter from D.C. — and maybe in the months ahead, I’ll send more “postage” from the different cities I’m in at the time.
Until next time,
Mochi Peachu