If you were in Edmonds last weekend, you probably noticed them — small clusters of people perched on stairs, tucked into alleyways, and sitting on curbs in the middle of the bustling farmers market or down by the waterfront, sketchbooks balanced on their knees. They were sketching storefronts, crowded sidewalks, ferries, and strangers passing by. They were sketching the backsides of buildings, the undersides of stairwells, and the tangled shapes of trees.

For the third year running, Sketcher Fest Edmonds transformed the waterfront town 15 miles north of Seattle into the center of the sketching world.

Under the leadership of Gabi Campanario — founder of Urban Sketchers and former Seattle Times sketch columnist — Sketcher Fest Edmonds has grown into North America’s premier sketchbook festival. About 500 people attended this year, coming from as far as Barcelona, Portugal, Poland, Florida, and Vancouver, B.C., to sketch together for two days of workshops, artist talks, and communal sketch walks. They fanned out from Graphite Arts Center and Edmonds Waterfront Center in small groups, each led by one of 19 guest artists. Workshops ranged from capturing the energy of the Saturday farmers market to integrating narrative into sketches. And in one artist talk, an underwater diver shared how she sketches while submerged.

Sketchers on the beach in Edmonds for a watercolor workshop on capturing light, led by Cyrille Briand, a French illustrator and travel sketchbook artist known for his colorful work.

Campanario chose Edmonds for its small-town feel, walkable streets, and proximity to the waterfront. “Seattle is an amazing city,” he says. “But where do you start? Edmonds already has a welcoming arts community.” That community was visible throughout the weekend — in both the sketchers themselves and the curious people passing by who stopped to watch and ask questions.

At the end of each workshop, there’s a tradition called the “throwdown.” Everyone lays their sketchbooks on the ground. Pages smudged and crinkled — ink drawings sit beside quick washes of watercolor. Some sketches are intricate and precise; others hint at their subjects in just a few lines. They’re all bursting with energy. The sketchers stand in a loose circle, talking through each sketch — what colors pop, what details they notice, how the work makes them feel.

James Richards,  guest artist from Florida, led a workshop sketching the crowds at the Edmonds Farmers Market. For him, people are the story. Buildings fade into the background. “I tell the artists: this is a pressure-free zone,” he says. “What I want is the best you can do, in this moment, in this place. And just have fun with it.” He encourages them to “do the most with the least” — a reminder that even a few quick lines can tell a story. His other advice is simple: be yourself, and you’ll always win at that.

Artist and author James Richards wraps up a three-hour sketching workshop at the Edmonds Farmers Market with a throwdown, where sketchers lay their work out and casually discuss it.

Photos by Sarah Stackhouse

James Richards’ sketch of the Edmonds Farmers Market captures the energy and rhythm of a busy Saturday downtown.

Participants ranged from longtime artists to people rediscovering sketching after years away. Melissa Gaughan of Seattle took her first watercolor class years ago in grad school and hated it. “It was overwhelming being graded, and I just thought I hated painting,” she says. During COVID, she pulled her old supplies out of the closet and started again at her own pace. “I discovered I really enjoyed playing with color,” she says. “This is the first time I’ve done this in a long time without feeling like I have to be good at it.”

“Looking back at a sketch is different from a photograph. It brings back everything.”

Mark Isaacson, who’s here for his second year and lives in Edmonds, shared a similar story. He sketched as a kid, stopped for nearly twenty years, and started again during the pandemic. The workshop he’s attending this year focuses on sketching the overlooked parts of town: alleys, loading docks, the hidden spaces behind storefronts. “Looking back at a sketch is different from a photograph. It brings back everything,” he says. “It takes me back to where I was, what the day was like — even whether I was hungry.”

That’s something nearly everyone mentioned. Unlike a photograph, which captures a moment, a sketch reflects the full experience of being there. Looking back, it’s not just the image that comes through — it’s the weather, the smell, the sounds, the way everything felt while the sketch took shape.

A beachside sketch of Puget Sound by Seattle artist Melissa Gaughan.

Photo by Sarah Stackhouse

One of many scenes captured in the travel journals of Cyrille Briand, who sketches his way around the world.

Photo courtesy of Sketcher Fest Edmonds

Nishant Jain, a Vancouver, B.C.–based artist and creator of the SneakyArt podcast, describes a sketchbook as “the cheapest tool to reclaim your attention span from all the billionaires and algorithms.” His upcoming book, Make (Sneaky) Art, is less about how to draw and more about how to see. “A photograph is just a moment,” he says. “A sketch is the time you spent there, all of it compressed into one image. My drawing habit has made me more alive.”

Jain started sketching in 2017, shortly after immigrating from India to the U.S. “Sketching for me was a way not only to learn to draw, but also a way to understand my new world,” he says. “I’m a people watcher, so my sketchbooks are full of the people I love to see everywhere.”

Campanario had a similar experience when he first arrived in Seattle. “When I came here 19 years ago, sketching was the way I got to know my new city,” he says. “It’s like seeing the world with fresh eyes. Even growing up in Barcelona, I missed things. I wasn’t looking with the sketcher’s eyes.”

For Jain, and for many artists at Sketcher Fest, sketching isn’t about the end product. It’s about being present — choosing what details matter, deciding what to include, what to leave out. He points out that kids do this instinctively: “Children draw, they finish, they throw it behind them. They don’t critique it. They don’t compare it with their favorite artists. They don’t talk down about their own art.”

“People think drawing is something you’re either born with or not, but we drew before we spoke. Somewhere, we got shamed out of it.”

Artist Uma Kelkar, who traveled from San Jose, said she came not to teach or take classes, but simply to be among “her people.” Sketching, for her, started as an act of self-rescue. A working mother with no time to herself, she picked up sketching as a small, selfish practice — something just for her. Over the years, it grew into a vocation. “People think drawing is something you’re either born with or not,” she says. “But we drew before we spoke. Somewhere, we got shamed out of it.”

Artist Uma Kelkar sketches on the street in Edmonds.

At Sketcher Fest, no one seemed concerned with skill, although as a viewer, I was blown away by the beauty of every single sketch I saw. The point is to observe and create. The word itself — sketch — implies looseness. It’s not quite drawing or painting. It’s the quick marks that capture what matters in the moment. Everyone there seemed to agree: We can all sketch.

“Just get a notebook and a pen,” Campanario says. “Start making marks. You don’t have to draw the whole street. Draw a lamppost, a bench, a statue. Everyone starts somewhere.”

The weekend ends with the Sketchbook Fair. Inside the Edmonds Waterfront Center, guest artists set their sketchbooks on tables for anyone to leaf through. Campanario set it up this way intentionally. “We separate the commerce from the art,” he says. “When you’re talking to the artists at their tables, there are no transactions — no cards being swiped. That way, visitors don’t feel guilty if they just want to look and talk.”

The Sketchbook Fair at Edmonds Waterfront Center.

Pages from the sketchbooks of artist Nishant Jain at the Sketchbook Fair.

Pages from Polish illustrator Dominika Wróblewska’s sketchbook show how she brings drawing into every corner of life — from underground cave systems to a packed mosh pit.

The bright, colorful sketchbooks of illustrator Nina Khashchina reflect years of travel.

Photo courtesy of Sketcher Fest Edmonds

Some sketchbooks were neatly dated and numbered. Others were messy and layered. Flipping through them felt like reading the most beautiful journal — the kind of artifact that will become a treasure to someone many years from now.

Outside the fair, in the lobby of the Edmonds Waterfront Center, a small shop offered prints and books by the artists featured throughout the weekend. There were also art supplies for sale — sketchbooks, pens, watercolor sets. My friend and I both left with new sketchbooks. I don’t know if we’ll ever fill them, but it feels like a good place to start.

Books by a few of the featured artists are available through Sketcher Press, founded by Gabi Campanario — and you can find the rest of the artists here, along with their Instagram handles to explore more of their incredible work.