During my first year of Art School I loathed my sketchbook. Not because I hated to draw, but because I felt like I was forced to fill it. “Mr. Shifflett, how many pages did you fill this weekend?” The answer was always the same. “Probably not enough, Prof.” I didn’t get the reason why it seemed so important to fill these books with graphite. We were never graded on execution, just on the ability to fill the books with what we saw around us.