Three-Dimensional Memories
One Easy Trick to See and Remember More of Your Travels
Last year, my parents, my husband and I took a cruise around Iceland and Norway. We enjoyed ourselves—there were, as you might guess, an abundance of waterfalls and landscapes you’re not likely to see anywhere else.
And when we got home, we were stuck with a problem you’ve probably experienced yourself: There were so many great photos, of fjords, of waterfalls, of glaciers, of Icelandic flowers and sheep, that, if it weren’t for datestamps, Facebook, and Instagram, we’d have been hard-pressed to say which waterfall was which. Which lovely, out-of-the-way church was in which township. Which view of our cruise ship had been taken from which vantage point, and on which day.
But I had a secret weapon up my sleeve. That trip was the first on which I’d told myself that I’d try and do a watercolor drawing each day. And so, when I looked through my photos, I had an added touchpoint: I could remember trying to draw this waterfall; that platter of kleina pastry; those sorry approximations of the woolly willow and the mountain avens.
So now, as I flip through the photos and my watercolors together, the whole vacation takes on an eerie, three-dimensional quality, because I can remember the feel of the café seat beneath me as I nibbled on the kleina and sipped at my latté; I can remember the way the wind smelled on the hillside where I spotted the white petals of the avens; I can recall the sound of the rocks under my boots as I pivoted my hip to stand more securely on the stony beach near the glacier.
It feels like cheating on my profession as a writer and editor, but the truth is, I’m better at remembering when I draw something. It turns out, there’s a scientific reason for that: researchers posit that drawing engages more senses than either writing or taking photos. You’re using your motor skills and your visual skills. Jeffrey D. Wammess, co-author of a study that showed that drawing a word helped with memorizing it, said that remembering a small detail of something “might help you reconstruct that full representation of what you studied,” which explains how I can better remember the experience of drawing the thing.
On some level, I’ll confess it feels good to cheat on the writing. Words are work, and I teach writing, so turning that off for a little bit feels really, really good. In fact, where most sketch artists suggest you jot down the date and a little bit about what you’re experiencing in the corner of the drawing, I have to really force myself to do that. I almost don’t want to sully the experience of the drawing with words.
You don’t have to be any kind of pro to give yourself similar touchstones. I’m not formally trained in art beyond YouTube videos and classes I bought from the Internet, and most would say that my drawings are mediocre. But along with my camera and just a few lines of text, these drawings provide a great way for me to remember my travels, and I’ll tell you how I make it work for me. (Keeping in mind that many of us aren’t traveling for a while, you can practice this at home so you’re ready for your next trip!)
First, I take a photo. That way, if I can’t finish the sketch on time, I’ll have something to look at and copy from later on.
Second, I lay down just a few loose strokes of whatever thing it is I’m looking at.
Third, I take a couple of moments to try and cement the place in my head. As I said before, pro artists say it’s good to write a few things about what you’re looking at, and I do this, but only after much internal prodding.
Then, much later in the day, after dinner, I take me, my notebook, and my watercolors to someplace quiet (on a ship, it might be the library or even a quiet corner in the bar), and I finish the drawing then. On the trip with my parents, some nights I could complete two or three drawings.
Finally, right before bed, I’ll write a couple of lines about the day in total—what we did; maybe what we ate. Who we hung out with. You know, standard diary-entry stuff.
But! you say (yes, I can hear you from here), I cannot draw! I only do stick figures! Look, it doesn’t matter if you’ve never done this before. All it’s doing is forcing you to stay still for a hot minute and really look at a thing, a landscape, a person, a tree. All it does is make you pay close attention to the lines of something, imagine it onto a page.
My personal bugaboo is buildings and skies. I am terrible at perspective, so every building I draw looks like a two-year-old trying for Braques. But I love buildings, so even if I don’t have a writing implement on me you’ll see me standing there, imaginary pencil in hand, tracking the lines of the building into air. I do the same with clouds, which never turn out right. But if I’m traveling, I have my pencil and notebook in my bag or my pocket, and I can pull it out and try for something.
Oh, I know. This sounds like something you’d see in a movie, handsome leading man and all. Quirky artist-type looks around, sees pretty scene, sits down in the middle of the street to draw it. (Her fingertips are already charmingly stained with paint, or she has a charcoal smudge on one cheek.) Bicycles go around her; men yell in sexy accents, “Bella! Careful, enh!” But no, this is not that. This is way more practical.
This is the best way I have of remembering where I have been.
Packing List
Always keep your tools close by. That way, you’ll never miss an opportunity to put your memories down on paper, in quick order. I nearly always carry a belt bag (okay, okay, fine, fanny pack, or for you Brits who are already giggling, bum bag) so there’s really no excuse: no rooting around in my backpack or bigger shoulder bag.
This is specifically what I took on the cruise. The notebook changes from trip to trip, but the other basics don’t.
In my Ruth Kraus bum bag at all times:
4H pencil with plastic cap
Micron pen
iPhone 6S
notebook (softbacked; 4” x7”)
Back at the ship or in backpack, stored in a flat mesh tote:
Windsor-Newton Cotman watercolors
Eraser
Pencil sharpener
Roll of washi tape
Little tub of water
Collapsible brushes