I don’t know when art became such a serious thing—there’s occasionally humor in literature but it’s harder to find in art these days, it seems. Picasso had a wonderful sense of playfulness; he turned a bicycle seat and handlebars into a bull’s head. I don’t imagine many people care much about bulls. But what that image tells us is that we can play—that we’re here to play. That’s a pretty radical concept! That image of the bull’s head is so surprising, so confident and fun. It awakens our own desire. So when I teach drawing I really want to teach playfulness.

Right away that means we need to get to the understanding that when we draw it doesn’t have to look a certain way. Beginning students are trying to hone their abilities, which is fitting, of course. They need to get to the point where what they draw looks like what they intend to draw. That takes time, and practice. But often in the process of advancing skill all ability to play and experiment is lost. We get tight and uptight. Our muscles contract along with our minds.

So we’ll begin with scribbling. A big pad of newsprint, some crayons and some good music. Just feel the music and go. Let the hand go where it will. Use black to start. Make long swooping strokes, short jabs, dots, black marks, softer grey ones. Press hard, hardly press at all. Keep the hand moving and watch.

Watching is such an integral part of playing. It brings us into the here and now which is where we need to be when we make art. Totally here now. It’s quite Buddhist. We have one pointed focus—our hand, the crayon, the paper and whatever emerges. It’s magic, really. And every single person will do something unique. I’ve done this experiment and it’s amazing how interesting these abstract drawings are. No two scribbles look even remotely alike.

That’s the first part of every class—loosening up, feeling and seeing the unique beauty of our own hand. Fun.