An open letter to Thomas J Bevan

✉️ 🖊️ ❤️

Dear Thomas,

You know this already, but your writing gave me the right nudge at the right time, for this I can’t express how grateful I am. If this is not a sign to never give up on your writing, I don’t know what is. You never know when your writing will change the course of history, like yours did to mine.

I don’t know if you recall, but it was your guest post on a blog back in late 2018 titled “How to Be an Autodidact and Lifelong Learner”

Your three simple questions slapped me in the face like a wet kipper:

Ask yourself:

What did I want to become when I was a child?
What was I obsessed with as a child?
What did people tell me I was good at as a child?

The purpose of these questions is to realign you with your original vision.

I actually took the time to write the answers down, and it became pretty clear where I should be heading. I’d struggled for so many years.

I was too shy and anxious to work for anyone, which engulfed much of my twenties. During that time, I scraped by, taking on odd website and video projects for ridiculously low fees. Feeling immensely frustrated, I went down countless rabbit holes, tried many things, and failed at many of them. But as they say, better late than never.

When I read your post and wrote down the answers, it was clear as day what was missing. It was so blindingly obvious. The writing was on the wall (well, on my notepad anyway).

What did I want to become when I was a child?
An Artist or video game designer.

What was I obsessed with as a child?
Drawing and video games.

What did people tell me I was good at as a child?
What do you think the answer was?…

Yes, you guessed it:

Drawing and video games.

I was faced with a choice to pursue the route of art or video gaming in some capacity. I had owned an Xbox One around that time and spent too much time on Grand Theft Auto V, it didn’t feel right for me to go in that direction. So I sold it and bought some ink instead.

Using pen and ink brings nostalgic memories of my childhood, a time when I spent countless hours immersed in drawing. I even sold one of my pieces—a sketch of a man on a penny farthing—for £10 to a parent at school in 1990 (equivalent to £1,000 in today’s money).

The ink arrived, but I froze with fear and left it on the shelf until the new year.

2019 brought me a new sense of courage, I got a load of A5 paper and sat myself down at the dining table. I picked my beloved dog, Bruno, as a subject and started drawing gingerly. The feeling of peace soon washed over me, the familiar feeling of home, forgetting yourself and losing yourself in the activity, it was bliss. Negative voices kept trying to make themselves heard “That’s shit”, “You’re too old to start making art” but I just let them carry on talking, like when someone overly chatty goes off on tangents for ages and you switch off.

These little drawings started something, it stirred something that was suppressed for so long.

What else can I say, Thomas, but…

Thank you,

SLART

Bruno 1 - My first drawing in 20 years. 27th January 2019. I love it a lot.