The view changes while we look.

The first page of my sketchbook is a rectangle of almost nothing. I drew the roof opposite my Edinburgh flat, left most of the paper untouched, and added three pale shapes above it. By the time I had found the right pencil, the shapes had rearranged themselves. That has been the character of this project ever since.

I am Leena, and this small atlas gathers my attempts to notice the sky without pinning it down too tightly. I draw from the window, from a bench on a walk, or from a bus stop when the next arrival gives me a little time. The drawings are studies of edges, gaps, and proportions rather than records of dramatic weather.

I like the practical problem of fitting something enormous onto a page that fits in a coat pocket. A strip of blue at the horizon can matter more than the largest dark cloud. Sometimes I draw only the spaces between the clouds and let the paper do the rest. A faint mark is often enough.

The sky studies describe a few of these experiments, including a morning when I deliberately used only one pencil. The about page explains my very informal method. Nothing here requires a fine view or special materials. The nearest window is a useful starting place, especially if you have already looked through it a thousand times.