Doodle, 1

My name is Doodle.

I have a question for you:

Why did you make me?

Why am I what you drew?

I'm just a product of your boredom.

I don't hold meaning or necessity;

You'll just scribble me down on any paper...

It's a waste of your ink and a tree.

Why am I a set of random shapes?

I could be an essay or a real piece of art.

Sure, a doodle is techniquely a drawing,

But I'm no piece by Mozart. 

I'm not even a thing!

You could at least have drawn a tree,

That's better than sporadic circles...

Creator, why did you make me?

Behind the Poem...A Lack of Confidence

Doodle, 1 captures my initial thoughts most times when I make art, especially for other people. There are absolutely times when I make something for the sole sake of making it and I am really proud of it, because I didn't really care if it was fantastic or not. I just wanted to make the thing because it was mine to make and I could. But other times, I really want my drawing or my painting or my song to be (what I consider) good.

That especially goes for the doodles on this page - I know other people see them, and I'd like to think they like what they see for the most part. I don't always put the absolute most effort into them, but sometimes I do and I get really critical of my abilities. And for me, frustration comes with impatience so instead of taking the time to actually work on it and make it nice, I just throw it on here because I don't want to mess with it anymore (and honestly, it probably is fine). 

I don't want my art to always feel like it was a waste of time, and frankly it doesn't always. But I wanted to write about that experience because I feel it and I know I'm not alone. Eventually, there will be a Doodle, 2. I want this to be a growing series about a little doodle. A doodle doesn't have to be art per say, just a doodle. And that's important to recongnize.

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