The Story Behind Clockwork Elegance

Most of my drawings begin quietly, in the evenings after work. The house is calm, a favourite playlist in the background, and a cup of tea nearby. That’s when I can step away from the fast rhythm of the day and spend time on something that feels entirely mine. Drawing is, for me, a way to slow down — sometimes to relax, sometimes to process emotions, sometimes just to breathe a little deeper.

Clockwork Elegance was one of those pieces I knew I wanted to take slowly. It was inspired by art from the past — portraits rich in costume and detail, where every fold of fabric was deliberate — but also by the world we live in now, where technology and AI can create images in seconds. I wanted to explore that contrast: what happens when you combine history’s sense of elegance with the modern fascination for machines and speed.

Working in coloured pencil doesn’t allow shortcuts. Each layer of colour needs time, every detail has to be built carefully. Weeks of patience, compared to an instant AI output. But here’s what I keep asking myself: can speed ever replace intention? Can a program capture the weight of emotions that flow into a piece created by hand?

That’s part of what Clockwork Elegance became about. Not just lace and brass, or softness and structure — but a quiet reminder of what it means to take time, to feel, and to allow a drawing to grow into itself.