I used to play by the train tracks when I was small and make rubbings on tracing paper of wood, pennies, and leaves. Now when I sketch, I still take the time to delight in the textures of things. They are the rubbings of childhood, traced sensations of the world around me. It is like kneading bread, the warm, living dough in our working hands. We touch on the surface of things and let them in with the rhythms of the pen and pencil on the skin of trees.