I drew this page as part of one of those quiet sketchbook sessions where nothing much is planned — I simply sat down with my watercolor pencils and let my hands move. That kind of spontaneous drawing always feels like a small discovery: I don’t set rules, I don’t sketch a strict composition first, I follow lines and color until the image finds itself. The result here felt unexpectedly gentle and straightforward: a mother and a child, or at least that’s what the shapes and the mood suggested to me while I worked. It’s a soft image about connection rather than a literal scene, and I like that — it feels warm and calm.
I used watercolor pencils for this piece, and I prefer them over the regular pencils 100% of the time. Compared with ordinary colored pencils, watercolor pencils give a richer saturation and more expressive possibilities. You can layer and hatch with the dry pencil to keep texture and detail, but then a little water and a brush lets you loosen everything into washes and soft gradients — almost like working with both pencils and watercolor at once. For this drawing I only used these pencils in dry form.
I didn’t begin with a plan. The elongated neck, the heart-like body, the flowing pink crest above the head — these elements emerged iteratively. I worked intuitively, repeating small adjustments until the shapes felt balanced. Sometimes a motif reappears in my sketchbook without me trying: small bird-like forms, groupings that suggest family. It happened here too — the composition instinctively suggested a protective, embracing figure and a smaller companion. I didn’t force a narrative; the drawing supplied it.
And I've already made a drawing similar to this a few months ago which was also just very intuitive but the theme is so familiar and repeated which was interesting to notice:
More about this current drawing of mother-child birds: color choices were both emotional and practical. The warm reddish/brown for the body gives the central figure a comforting, earthy presence. The tiny green droplet at the beak’s tip felt like a small, precious detail — it could be a tear, a drop of nectar, or simply a highlight that creates a gentle focal point. The blue waves at the bottom provide visual balance and a suggestion of place without being literal — they read as rhythm rather than landscape. The lavender clouds on the left edge frame the scene and create an airy, dreamy atmosphere.
There isn’t a long manifesto behind this drawing. It’s a simple moment: something warm and connected. I read it as mother and child because the larger figure’s posture is protective and tender; the smaller form feels close and dependent.
Here is a step-by-step process of how this drawing was born:
Thank you for looking — this little drawing is one of those quiet pieces that arrived by chance and stayed because it felt honest. I'm always curious to hear your interpretations!