Making art on the Camino, 2023
I walked the Camino de Santiago in Spain last year for the first time, and kept a sketchbook diary throughout. I wasn’t sure at the beginning if I would – I allowed myself plenty of excuses to bow out of it – but I found myself craving that time to go and process my day on the page.
This year, I walked the Camino Francés again, starting end May from Saint–Jean–Pied–de–Port, France and finishing in Finisterre, Spain in early/mid July 2023. I knew without question I would keep a sketchbook diary of my walk again.
And I did, filling 114 pages across 2.2 sketchbooks; 88 pages of which were completed during my 41 days of walking (plus three rest days).
I shared my artwork daily and in (mostly) real time on Instagram and received a lot of questions about my practice, art kit, motivation, and so on. So I thought it best to answer them all in one place here.
The process
I took photos throughout the day as I walked. I chose a handful of these images to draw from. I often ended up drawing something else entirely.
I wrote my diary in my phone at every opportunity – before I started in the morning, whenever I stopped for a break, when I arrived where I’d be spending the night, and so on. This was the source of my text.
When I sat with my sketchbook, I mapped out two facing pages per day, first in my mind – this image will go here, that one there, the text will come here, and so on. It was four parts intuitive and one part with an eye to making it different from the previous page (so there’s a flow when going through the whole book). I tried to keep the number of images to an odd number as that’s more visually interesting. I usually considered the two facing pages as one spread, and so had an odd number of images across the two pages.
I drew the images first in pencil. I would move things around completely at this stage if it didn’t feel right. Once I liked the placement, I’d go over it with my fountain pen, filled with permanent ink. That’s commitment. Then I’d draw lines with a pencil for where the text would go. I’d then write the text with my fountain pen, almost always having to adjust the original words so that they’d fit in the space.
Once the pages were fully ‘inked’, I’d erase all the pencil marks. Then I’d paint in the images and key text with watercolour.
The practice
The time it took varied wildly depending on the complexity of the text and/or the complexity of the images (portraits take forever). As this was one of my most persistent questions, I’ll try to answer it: each day’s two pages took between two to five hours to complete, with an average of probably three and a half hours.
The other most common question: how did I make the time? I’d usually arrive by 2pm. I’d shower, lunch, do laundry and then spend the afternoon on my art. Sometimes the art came before the shower and laundry. Sometimes I’d finish up while sitting with my friends as they drank their beers. I often did a little bit more before I went to bed (indeed, I had to be strict with myself to stop so I could be rested for the next day). The videos were often edited just before I went to sleep.
I shared the pages on Instagram after a five–day lag. I did this because I wanted to be sure I had processed the day internally myself before I shared it with anyone else. And I sometimes couldn’t finish the day’s pages on time, so it gave me some flexibility to catch up and still share on an almost daily basis. (I was very touched when I missed a day and I got a flurry of private messages asking if I was okay; thank you, all!)
The motivation
Some days I could only draw and ink, as I didn’t have enough daylight to paint. Some days I had no flat surface so I’d sit up awkwardly on my bed with a cramped hand trying to not spill water on my lap. Some days I had no energy left. But every day, I did something.
Not, as many people assumed, because I’m “disciplined” – a word that doesn’t sit well with me, carrying connotations of external obligation or doing something even if I didn’t want to.
I did my sketchbook diary daily because I wanted to. Because my day felt incomplete without it. Because until I put whatever was in my head/heart onto paper, I often couldn’t articulate what I even really thought or felt. I did it so I could leave that day behind me, digested, and be fully available for the next day.
Creating this diary made me exquisitely aware. I never knew what would resonate enough for me to want to capture a few select moments out of each long day. So I felt curious, open and present at all times.
Keeping a sketchbook diary profoundly enriched my camino (as it does my daily life too). By capturing my day, I honoured my experience, I treasured its big and tiny moments, re–living them in the sketchbook, and I shared it all, so it came back tenfold.
I learnt from Julia Cameron’s book “The Artist’s Way” the importance of both input and output for creativity, hence her daily morning pages (even if just to get the mental chatter out of the way), and weekly artist dates to draw inspiration in. On the camino, I had so much inspiration daily from my environment – nature is extravagantly fulfilling – that I had to keep pouring things out of me otherwise I would burst.
I also did it because I believe the art comes through me, and my job is to show up. So I showed up daily.
Finally, the actual act of making the art gives me immense joy. I love each part of the process – the mapping out in pencil, the going over in ink, and the way the pages pop with watercolour. It was my privilege to carve out time and space for it on the camino.
The videos
I shared photos from my camino on social media last year, using the 10 carousal slides on each Instagram post to show moments of my day. I felt a bit frustrated that the images didn’t quite do justice to the rich panoramic experience I was having (of course, the beauty of still images can be honing in on tiny details that would otherwise go missed). I decided that this year, I’d take micro videos – a few seconds each – as I walked and put them together into a reel for each day.
My impetus was to show my mother what each day was like. Where did I start? What scenery was in front of me, or on the side of me? What was the path like? Who was I walking with? What was I thinking?
I always assembled each reel chronologically – moving from my first steps to my last shot of the day – both to truthfully capture the day’s sequence, and also to keep it simple for me while editing.
Taking videos allowed me to capture the sights and sounds (birdsong is the best soundtrack; car horns blaring captured the jolt I felt passing traffic). The videos are moving, as was I, so that felt pleasingly aligned. Video allowed me to show the relationship of things to each other, as I could move the camera from the side view to the path ahead. Another benefit was realising how varied each day’s vistas were – something I only fully appreciated when I assembled the footage each day.
I used my iPhone 13 camera to take the videos, and an app called Splice to edit them. Just before I started the camino, I was editing footage of my niece performing aerial silks, and the free version of Splice meant its logo was imprinted on my handiwork (these things drive me bananas). So I grumpily paid for the upgraded logo–free version and continued using it. It’s a fairly intuitive app, and it mostly allows me to do the things I want.
Side story: at one point in my previous film production career, I was so in love with film editing, that I considered retraining in it. My mentor at Working Title Films even set up a meeting with a leading editor (who did the Harry Potter films!) in support of it. I decided at the last minute that my calling was in production (note: it actually wasn’t), and I didn’t pursue it. But I did make use of my elementary skills learnt in university to make short films, edit commercials for a spell and create my own video presentations of projects I pitched as a producer. I’ve always loved editing – the intricacy and precision of it, the holding of a moving moment and finding its breath, of capturing a mood and telling a story – so it was super fun for me to utilise this old love on a daily basis this way!
I was thrilled to hear so many people say they were inspired by my videos to capture their days on video too. Woo hoo! Like keeping my sketchbook diary, the whole process is so fun – taking the footage, putting them together, editing them down – that I hope to keep doing more of them, even off the camino.
The art kit
Art supplies make me swoon. I geek out on them. They’re my most treasured possessions along with my sketchbooks. This is what I carried on the camino:
Note: I didn’t carry the water cups & brush that came with the Portable Painter palette
This kit was nearly perfect. One change for next time may be to carry my usual watercolour palette of 20 colours in a small metal case. It would be heavier (179g vs 92g) but I may justify the weight for my ease and delight.
I had three (count 'em) sketchbooks with me, as I was finishing up a previous one when I arrived in France (I’m obsessive and completist enough that I couldn’t leave one series hanging before I started another…). Once I did finish it, I could have sent it ahead to Santiago to collect later, but I get jinx–y about my sketchbooks and so carried all three with me throughout.
The other two sketchbooks were filled on the camino. They’re relatively small and light, but it’s no joke to carry three books and art supplies in a backpack day after day! Saying that, I happily jettisoned many personal belongings throughout my walk, but never ever once regretted carrying my beloved art supplies. My 24L backpack was small compared to most camino packs, and I declared to anyone who would listen, “And I’m carrying three sketchbooks and an art kit in it!”