“As sick, disabled, queer, trans, people of color, indigenous people fighting for our lives, reimagine care that’s deeply embedded in an abolitionist frame while we’re still fighting fascism, while we’re still fighting immense poverty and oppression of our own people - are not separate things. They are all bonded together - to build care is to build safety is to build power at the same time.”

— Care Page, BLACK FEMINIST ABOLITIONIST HEALER AND MEMORY WORKER

Hello Sketchboard Community,

Nat here. How are we doing? Take a deep breath—in, and when you exhale, give a big, heartfelt raspberry. Really feel the moment. And I know, it’s taken me a little longer this time to get the newsletter, (blog?), out for y’all, and I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to read all of this, haha. It scratches an itch, my love for writing. So if you’ve got the time and interest in my yapping, go on soldier. Otherwise, skip right to the updates below.

Like many of you, I sometimes feel like we’re licking an already sore wound, as if all our hard work before didn’t make a dent. I felt really sick the day after the results, unable to really formulate sentences. A huge pit of despair and uncertainty flooded my social feeds and in my heart. I can’t help but bring politics into our space because it’s at the very heart of why Sketchboard exists.

“Art has always been political. It reflects the lived experiences of the people who create it, the cultures they come from, and the communities they represent.”

— Dr. Zuly E. Inirio, LSW.

We started Sketchboard because we needed a container to voice and intentionally align what we didn't see in the world. We wanted to see people that look like my friends, the people we admire, and strangers we found interesting, on the stage. To create our own sacred and creative space together. To feel like a soft landing from a rough world. To safely talk about our struggles together. And tired of the same stale, institutionalized, and very much biased settings - so from that frustrations and desire, came about this organization.

Groups like BB Figure Drawing and Visibility Drawing Group actively support BIPOC QT artists, creating vital spaces for communities often impacted by the social bias of institutionalized settings. Often impacted the most by the legislation decisions on our access to care. And very much have a “for us, by us” attitude. Curating their models to be trans, to be black, or people of color. Often masked, often in the East bay, and in community spaces that share the same values.

When the pandemic hit, it devastated our communities the most. And I have never longed for the in-person sessions more than I did during those years. I saw many of our beloved art models and community members leave the Bay Area. Third spaces were no longer accessible. I missed the sound of pencils marking, the rustle of paper, and the gentle clink of a brush in a water cup. Now, though, I find myself wanting nothing more than the comfort of warm sheets and, yes, a bit of doom scrolling on the newly resurrected clock app. I find myself dusting off the cobwebs of solitude often, for a taste of socializing. Our wounds seem immeasurable when the violence is constant and the fear is palpable.

They say the body keeps the score. In a capitalist society, there is no true recovery from harm—only a reconciliation with pain through memory and ceremony. Each world-shattering event dredges up emotions from the past, making us forget time and even our own bodies. We overcompensate until we reach exhaustion, and without empathy—both for ourselves and others—we can turn bitter, isolating ourselves in ways that echo the systems we long to dismantle.

“And when harm, betrayal, and disillusionment keep repeating—especially within movements—we start projecting our wounds outward, in ways that mirror the very systems we so long to dismantle.”

And our current technology, while connecting us digitally, has also made it easier to isolate, reinforcing white supremacy culture through privatized leisure. In these insular communities, our understanding of what community is becomes distorted. We have taken the right to comfort to a disturbing level, when anything makes us feel uncomfortable. And it maintains any conflicts outside our bubble. This contributes to white supremacy culture, which is capitalism.

Knowing and feeling our own limits is care, and care knows how to demand respect for those limits. True care—whether for oneself or others—requires boundaries, alongside the strength and clarity to uphold them. And a boundary is a tangible thing.

We can meet change with intention and with the knowledge that if a boundary isn't working, it can change again, and if it is, we can continue to innovate and experiment with it. And I think that is where we are as a society, who have become deeply sick from the constant leeching. We don’t want things to go back to being the same, we have accepted we need something different. We are collectively placing a boundary on what we will no longer tolerate.

“Abolition is not absence, it is presence. What the world will become already exists in fragments and pieces, experiments and possibilities. So those who feel in their gut deep anxiety that abolition means knock it all down, scorch the earth and start something new, let that go. Abolition is building the future from the present in all of the ways we can. ”

— Ruth Wilson Gilmore

As we have witnessed after every crisis, we mobilize quickly. We create these systems of mutual aid, of care, and all from the love we share for our communities. We have started platforms, like Boycat, to keep protesting against companies that contribute to the violence we will no longer stay complicit to. We want deeper care within ourselves and our communities. We want to be nourished. And we no longer welcome violence from oppressive ideologies and bigotry.

Figure drawing asks everyone else to be present. To represent self love to the art models who were looking for. To build trust between yourself and the model. To create a space of respect and integrity. To create and sustain spaces where our values aligned, where you felt seen, and valued beyond what you could produce. Where you can feel held, through conversations of solidarity, shared struggles. Where a fellow artist asks you how you’ve been, if you’d like to share some sleeves of oranges, or if the art model is warm enough. All moments of care being distributed, organically. It’s a reciprocal exchange that is maintained.

And this energetic exchange, is what the art model needs, is what the community needs, in order to show up in care for themselves. Everyone is eager, more than ever ready to receive this creative and collaborative energy. This has created a healing space we didn’t realize was so powerful until we saw the effect it had on our models and artists, who saw themselves in the models. The act of seeing someone as they are interpreting their form, and distilling that into a creative process - is sacred. It’s a deeper connection than you could ever imagine, stripping away the sexualized perception. Just appreciation for sharing space together, collaborating creatively. Past the stage, past the sessions.

I think this is why I stuck with it for so long: community building requires you to drop the ego, lean into intimacy and trust. I wanted to sustain spaces for others, share the struggles and celebrate the lessons alongside strangers, who would eventually become friends.The community and the feeling of softness, something I can control, something that made you feel good. Then it grew, as all well nourished gardens do. I leaned into the softness even more. Trending to this garden of artists fulfilled my needs of support and accountability. And I keep thinking lately, how much my friends and Sketchboard has radicalized me towards practicing a new world:

I’ve learned to dismantle internalized capitalism and overcome the self-hate that can result from living in a culture steeped in violence and exclusion.
I’ve learned to be a better communicator, learn different communication styles.
I’ve learned how to handle conflicts in all kinds of settings.
Through life drawing and engaging with diverse bodies, I have come to appreciate the beauty and complexity of every individual, sparking my passion for humanizing the people around me.
My internal dialogue is a reflection of how society is structured, and by loving myself and others, I seek to reshape that structure—one that values autonomy, well-being, and mutual care.

My personal journey with Sketchboard has always been about more than art—it’s been a quest to build a community that truly reflects my values of self-love, authenticity, and deep care. I’ve long dreamed of a space where we can all be seen, where each of us has the opportunity to hold space for one another, and where our personal struggles and triumphs contribute to collective healing. Working with Sketchboard has allowed me to nurture my creative practice while re-evaluating what community care truly means. And teach those learnings back.

This journey has given me the courage to speak up for the autonomy of others and to create safe, inclusive spaces that foster deep connection. I believe that true community and political transformation can only be achieved when we commit to authenticity, self-care, and collective healing. To experience the abundance of nourished relationships through creative collaboration.

While it may all feel dismal, I want to quote one of our awesome team member, Nathaniel, who wrote in his Substack Newsletter last month:

“In a world that wants us to buy everything pre-made and pre-packaged, we must learn to do things for ourselves. Everyone deserves space for play and discovery in their lives. We must look up from our algorithmically determined feeds and make something with our hands, together and in person.”

— Nathaniel Bice, Artist

News:

If you don’t have social media, you may have missed our stacked lineup of events, but you can still check out the ticket page for all the goods.

**Update in pricing: we have updated our admission pricing from $15 to $20. The exceptions to this increase will be Madrone Art Bar (21+) and OMCA (we don’t have control over their tickets).

**Call For Art! Our second art show! This will be our 12th year in operation. We are so happy that Madrone Art Bar has invited us to curate an art show for the space. We are inviting everyone who has made any art from the Sketchboard Sessions. And yes, it must be art made from our sessions. **Sign up here.**

Submission Requirements:

Any art that was donated from last year’s fundraiser, or not picked up from previous art show's will be included in the show, and up for sale, with all proceeds going to Sketchboard.
Artists submitting their art for this show, will have the choice of either donating their sales to Sketchboard, or keeping their sales.
All art submitted for consideration MUST be framed, ready to hang with proper framing wire (no keyholes or hooks).
All art submitted for consideration MUST be 2D.
Not be accepting more than 2 piece submissions, unframed art, or any framed art bigger than 18x24.
Art submitted must be made at a Sketchboard event. Doesn't mean it has to be finished at an event, though.

Important Dates:

Submissions are due 03/15 at 12pm.
Acceptance emails will be sent out on 03/17.
Art Drop-off Dates: 04/01/2025 - 04/16/2025 (at any session or email for alternative location drop-off.
Art Show: 05/01/2025 - 06/30/2025
Opening Date: Thursday, 05/01/2025, 6-10pm
Closing Date: 06/30/2025

Our first workshop of the year, with Kate and Natahniel teaching gouache, is nearly sold out. We are about 3 tickets away from selling out, so make sure you hop on it before you miss out. March 8th and 15th.