Rek Bell

2022.07.26

Hello Kid Rek, we haven't talked in a while. I wanted to tell you that the last two and a half months have been my most productive(drawing wise) since when I was your age. We used to fill sketchbooks so fast that we started numbering them, remember that? We didn't care that no one cared, or that it wasn't good, we could explore ideas all day, everyday, unhindered.

That was a great time. But I'm sad to say that as we got older and started to draw for a living our output of personal works lessened, and was almost brought to a complete halt.

We became self-conscious about our own ideas, and felt that whatever drawing project we worked on had to eventually lead to some form of income, otherwise it was too risky, too reckless, to do as an adult. We forgot how to play, Kid Rek, it's sad, but it happens to a lot of young artists.

I haven't owned a sketchbook in years, relying instead on stray pieces of paper, small notebooks and digital sketches. I couldn't commit to starting another sketchbook. I've never stopped drawing entirely, but I'd stopped diving into the worlds that we'd loved and made together. The characters were always on my mind, but I could never put down their stories on paper. I'd resigned myself to the idea that they could only live in my head, and that somehow this was enough, this is all I could get. I did try to fill other new, blank sketchbooks after that, but never felt the same drive as back then, and the sketchbooks ended mostly unused, and eventually turned into objects of guilt.

I've always assumed that drawing with such energy and passion was something I could only ever do as you, Kid Rek, that this time was over, gone and that I could never get it back. But this year, I'm not sure why I did it, but after a 12-year gap I bought a new sketchbook. I did let it sit on the shelf for a time, with some trepidation, wondering when it too would start to throw guilt my way. I drew a commission on the first page, and hoped that an income-driven piece of art wouldn't be the only drawing that would ever populate its pages. I became superstitious, as if the mere act of thinking that I would not fill this sketchbook would turn into another 12-year long curse. Devine and I left the dock with Pino in early May 2022 for the summer, and now, I'm delighted to say, Kid Rek, that this same sketchbook, after a few weeks, is already nearly filled with drawings from cover to cover.

What happened? I've always felt guilty spending my days drawing comics that were destined primarily for me, for us. "It's not productive," I'd say to myself, "you love it, and it animates you like nothing else, but it's not going to earn you money." For that reason I've long ignored my wants, in favor of supposed self-imposed "had-to's".

In the summer, we lie at anchor full-time and don't have moorage to pay, and so somehow, I feel the guilt less. (I live on a boat Kid Rek, you would have never guessed that, right?) This is also my first real Pacific Northwest summer on the boat, with no destination, few projects or concerns. (You've left the cold Montreal winters too, are you impressed yet?) This is free time, and because it is my mind is unbothered by thoughts of money and is free to roam and play all day, like we used to do. I did feel some guilt in the start, but it slowly ebbed away... and with every passing day I felt its pull less and less until it was gone almost entirely.

Now I realize how much I needed this in my life, to be happy and content. I used to lie to myself a lot. When friends would ask about my drawings, I'd say, "Oh, well, you know, I draw less now, I write more though! I like it!" Saying this, understand Kid Rek that I was protecting myself from having to think about why I wasn't drawing as much, maybe because it was something I thought I couldn't fix.

We've always enjoyed making comics. When you used to draw, all day, everyday, I remember that you'd often catch yourself smiling and laughing a lot. I thought it impossible to experience this same level of joy again, but I am. It took me a while to get here, but I did it. I had to re-learn how to be you, again, Kid Rek, you'd be proud.