Hello — I'm Sultan, and I draw where I stand

I started drawing because I kept coming home from places — AlUla, the old houses in Jeddah, a wadi near Taif — with a phone full of photos and nothing in my head. So I began sitting down instead: twenty minutes, forty if the gahwa lasted, drawing whatever was in front of me — a mud wall, a shopfront, an uncle who wanted to know what I was doing. You remember a street you've drawn. You don't remember one you photographed.

I live in Riyadh. Most months I'm away for part of it — down to the coast, up to Aseer where the light turns green after Asr, or just the next neighbourhood over. I draw in ink first and let the colour come later, on the floor of a majlis or a hotel desk with the window open. My sketchbooks are cheap and my hands are always a little stained.

The club started because friends kept asking me to post them a drawing. After the tenth envelope I knew that was the part I loved most — choosing the stamp, writing the note by hand, walking it to the post office near my house. So I made it monthly: one place, one envelope, the same one for everyone.

I'm not building a big brand. I'm trying to send something that lands on your table and feels like a person from here put it in the post — because that's exactly what happened. Join, and you'll hear from me every month in my own handwriting, with a cardamom stain now and then, free of charge.