Tequila & Sketching: A Study in Tradition

Traditional Tequila-Making Mirroring Hand-Drawn Art

There’s a reason I’m drawn to traditional tequila.

It’s not just because I love the taste. It’s more about how traditional tequila is made. Brick ovens, stone wheels, agave, and natural fermentation. The best tequila takes time and care—there are no shortcuts. This process intentionally ignores efficiency to preserve the essence of the product.

The Art of Tequila

So, what does this have to do with my art or hand-drawn illustrations? It’s the traditional, historical process that closely mirrors how I approach place-based, hand-drawn art.

Tequila and mezcal are also very simple. They consist of three ingredients: agave, water,

and yeast. That’s it. It’s up to the artist, the master distiller, to bring those ingredients to life. The same can be said about a black and white line sketch. Simple ingredients, but it’s the hand of the artist that transforms a blank page into a work of art.

Tradition Endures

Traditional tequila is not rushed. You can’t skip steps without losing depth. Each step has purpose, and every choice matters. It starts with selecting the best agave, and every choice that follows is crucial.

The same is true when drawing by hand.

It begins with an image, a photograph, or a location. Every line carries weight. Every decision matters—what’s included and, sometimes more importantly, what’s left out. The work unfolds slowly—like a good tequila—and the final outcome is shaped by restraint rather than excess.

When I sketch architecture, I’m not simply trying to replicate a photograph. I’m looking at the structure beneath the surface—how a building sits in its surroundings, what details give it life, and why this structure means something to someone. That understanding only comes when you slow down enough to observe.

It’s the tradition that causes the art—or tequila—to endure.

What’s in My Glass

Often, I like to sip tequila when I sketch. Occasionally, I share what’s in my glass.

Lately, what’s been in my glass is Villa Lobos Añejo—a tequila rooted in traditional production and distilled at La Alteña, where time and method are treated as something to be protected rather than optimized. Stone ovens, tahona-crushed agave, natural fermentation. Nothing rushed. Nothing forced.

Tequilas like this are meaningful because they reflect a way of working that values patience and intention. The process matters as much as the outcome. The decisions made along the way leave a visible imprint on the final product. They could cut corners, rush the process, and bring in additives to save some money. But doing so removes the unique characteristics of the final product.

Hand-drawn art is exactly the same. The artist's hand—not computer automation or AI—shapes the final product, and it’s this process that makes each piece unique and valuable.

Tequila Heritage

The Tequila Heritage collection grew out of this appreciation for traditional craft. The sketches in this body of work focus on the tradition of tequila—haciendas, distilleries, and structures built to support a process passed down over generations.

The Hacienda sketch (pictured here) was inspired by a photograph featured in a Mezcal Reviews article exploring the history of Hacienda de San Jose Acevedo. They share a respect for tradition, craft, and history in these structures.

These places weren’t designed to impress. They were designed to endure.

Drawing them requires the same restraint and patience that defines traditional tequila making. Forcing yourself to slow down and see the details. Letting the structure reveal itself rather than imposing something onto it. Each line is deliberate, and each omission is intentional.

For me, tequila isn’t the subject—it’s the metaphor.

It’s a reminder that tradition and craft matter. The most meaningful work often comes from resisting the urge to rush.

Continuing the Conversation

I’ll continue sharing What’s in My Glass. It’s a ritual that helps me slow down, observe, and stay connected to my work. Hopefully, you’ll give some of these tequilas a try. I promise you’ll like them.

The Tequila Heritage collection is an ongoing body of work. If you’re curious, I invite you to explore the collection and spend time with the sketches at your own pace.

And if there’s a place—a distillery, hacienda, or structure connected to craft and tradition that holds meaning for you—consider a custom commission.

Thanks for reading.

Scott