​Notes on turning my Brushstrokes figure drawings into a collectible portfolio

​​​​​For the past few months, I have been working on translating my Brushstrokes figure drawings into a physical portfolio object.

 

The series emerged from my ongoing figure drawing practice and brings together several themes that have been important throughout my work: the figure, gesture, reduction, perception, and the space between what is shown and what is left open.

 

I had imagined the project as a collectible portfolio — something that could hold the drawings together as a physical body of work.

 

Getting it into the physical world, however, turned out to be quite a journey.

 

There were failed uploads, disappearing edits, cancelled orders and several moments when I wasn’t sure whether I would actually be able to complete the project as intended.

 

And then, eventually, the first copy arrived.

 

With a production error.

 

The title Brushstrokes and my name were supposed to appear on the linen cover.

 

Instead, there was a large black shape printed across it.

 

At first, I actually thought it was a protective layer — a thin sheet placed over the cover that I could simply remove.

 

It wasn’t.

 

It was part of the print.

 

So the book will be reprinted.

 

And yet, something unexpected happened when I began looking through it.

 

I realised that I was experiencing the drawings differently.

 

Until then, Brushstrokes had existed primarily as digital images. Now they had weight, texture, edges, pages, a binding, and a physical rhythm.

 

The portfolio consists of ten photographic-paper pages, enclosed in a structure of natural linen and black leatherette. Six pages hold the black-and-white figure drawings, while the remaining pages contain text relating to the works.

 

The photographic paper was not something I originally imagined for these drawings. I normally choose fine-art papers for my prints.

 

But here, something about it works.

 

The deep black surfaces create a strong contrast around the drawings, while the matte photographic paper gives the individual works a presence that feels almost object-like.

 

It also changes the way the portfolio is handled.

 

This isn’t really a conventional book. The photographic pages don’t simply fall open and stay there. The binding gives the whole object a different physical rhythm. It asks to be held and moved through rather than simply read from beginning to end.

 

And perhaps that is what surprised me most.

 

I had thought I was making a portfolio book.

 

Now I’m wondering whether I was actually making something closer to an art object.

 

The project is still evolving, and I haven’t completely decided what its final form will be.

 

For now, I’m allowing myself to experience this first version — including its mistakes — as part of the process.

 

It reminds me that a physical object tells us always something about the work that we couldn’t have discovered on a screen.

 

Brushstrokes is still becoming.

 

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