{playing with ATCs...}

A few weeks ago, I noticed they sell ATC-sized papers in little packets for $1.99. Okay, I didn't just notice them a few weeks ago, but it was then that I was tempted to buy some and try this tiny format out. I had done some ATCs years and years ago (seen here and here), and while I enjoyed making them, I was still finding my collaging-self.

But, being adventurous, I cut down some blanks from left-over poster board and began playing. And I have to say, it's been a lot of fun. Here's some in-progress shots and the completed cards. Anyone up for trades? I've wanted to write letters, by hand, to unseen pen-pals, and figure this would be a fun way to do so!

PS. About tomorrow's live vlog -- please watch my Twitter stream for updates. I have to take my laptop apart to fix a problem, so am not sure it's 100% going to happen. YAY technology! [/sarcasm]

{working under the sky full of leaves and starts}

First order of business: here's this week's vlog. Outside. In the sun. I couldn't see the computer screen and kept trying to keep up.

I finished the page yesterday while out for an iced chai.

I have to say, getting out and simply doodling in my journal has done wonders. After weeks of prepping for class, rushing through Points of Two entries, and packing, diving back into my journal has help jump-start other creative processes despite having a room full of boxes instead of a working area. Which is fine; I'm down to papers, a toolbox, and a vintage red suitcase filled with goodies. Is it possible to jump into said suitcase? Live among the supplies and scraps and magic wand? I wish we could wrap ourselves in magic and wonder, all that stuff we accumulate that has our muses begging for a moment of time, snatched hours flying by unnoticed.

That happened today, when I took the wood panel painting outside to finish a drawing on it. There's a tree in my front yard that's spread almost like a tent, green leaves hanging off branches that seem to grow up then down into the ground. A dome of nature, with long grass and quiet. And yes, it's in the front, where people can see me, but I don't mind. Put on my pretty pink headphones and do my thing.

Maybe this is all truly like riding a bike. You get distracted, and altered, changed by the crap life throws at you, and then come back, sliding right into that flow of creativity you left for awhile. Things change. A bit of meditation grabbed on a long car ride re-centers and energizes, shows you who you really are, underneath all the failings and bitterness and stress of all this stuff. Secrets. I can only shake my head, detach with love, and count off the days until I move to another state. I'm yearning for that second chance, that new beginning, that moving seems to promise.

And let me say this, while I'm loquacious and frank: thank you. To every single person who's signed up for my class, taken a chance on this whirlwind in my head I'm dying to scream from mountaintops. I am ecstatic for the chance to touch the lives of others, and if one of you comes out with some new way of looking at things, I'll feel accomplished. But more than that, from deeper places, thank you. I've lived with the stress of no more prescription insurance and expensive medications, of bills and calls and denying myself at every turn. And because of you, yes, you, I was able to get meds and pay bills and live with a little more room to breathe. You've helped loosen the corset laced around me, and when I saw sign ups on Tuesday, I actually started to cry. You're the most supportive, amazing, magical people a girl could be blessed to know.

Tomorrow, I'm planning on sitting with my emails until everyone's got an answer. And plan to work out a better organization system. And then, I'm off to the races again, putting together my 'zine or book of journal pages and essays on creativity and journaling, scraps of words and paper put together.

Because isn't that what we're doing, in the end? Collecting scraps and creating meaning, in our own ways?

{ a bit more through my head, and a tour through the studio's projects! }

Happy Monday!

Things have gotten right back on track here in Kira Land. New projects are finally going from the planning state to actually becoming something tangible, and I'm going through my own new metamorphosis.

On Saturday, I gave you the link to a grouping of material from a few different places -- I couldn't rip them from their notebooks and journals, and so, I used the internet to collate them together and create something whole. Isn't it amazing what we can do with something as little as a few html pages?

If you missed it, here's where you start:

Wander through my thoughts as shown in visual and written form. See what kind of stuff goes through my head, gets written and remembered. I've really felt like a door's opened ever since I've started self-reflecting (though I hesitate to go through a lot because I'd sound new-agey or crazy).

When you've returned from that journey through my head, how about a little trip through the studio?

I grabbed this little frame a few weeks ago, and adapted my ink drawing to be the cover for it, then colored it in with Copic markers. I really need to pull them out more...they're tons of fun! Then some stamping and white pen work finished it off. I cropped a picture from this weekend's hiking trip at Glacial Park with Jun.

And here's the first piece of a banner that'll say DREAM. This has been on my mind for awhile, and there was totally a failed attempt before, magically, everything came together. I've really been changing the way I think. I'm also in love with dimension dots. The pom-pom trim is so awesome fun, and I've got it in a nice blue too (I'll be alternating colors for each banner). And clouds! Because don't dreams live in the light, fluffy places?

Of course, I had a few orders to send out, and I just ADORE wrapping everything up like a present before sending it on its way. I just got some baker's twine in a few different colors and want to use it with EVERYTHING! Eee. So much fun. And I got it for a really great price even though it came from Australia.

I have to screenprint some more cards, though, because I've gone through my stash already. I love stationary and creating my own. As soon as I finish with some projects and get labels printed, I'm going to design my own and print it on some creamy iridescent paper from Paper Source.

Finally, there's more progress on my newest painting. I gave myself a headache fine-tuning things on the sketch today that I had to just walk away. I'm really impressing myself with how my drawing abilities have improved in the last six years; before then, I could only do stick figures!

Any more ideas for tomorrow's live vlog? Let me know!

And I KNOW....I have so many back emails I need to get through. Rest assured, they're all organized and in a folder and I'll totally get to them by the end of the week. I've just found my creative juju flows better when I'm not on the computer all the time....I limit myself to a few hours if I have work, one if not, and I'm feeling less blocked. XD Not to mention more productive!

{traveling through farmland}

Between here and there, the land is flat.

The stretch dotted by broken fences and falling barns, wood naked from years unkempt in the rain bowing under the weight of roofs missing shingles. They fall, heavy animals no longer able to go on, their desolation somehow graceful.

And hope comes down the slope of a slight hill, a silo reaching for the cloudless sky. There are still small farms here, children playing out in the front yard when school's out of session.

But these sights can't keep my attention for long. I spill open my bag.

The road is surprisingly smooth for being a narrow two-lane snake of state highway, but I'd left my scissors at home, afraid they'd be taken away if my bag was searched. It remained in the car, intention taken by reality. The scraps are in there somewhere, too complicated for the mindless entertainment I require.

I feel like a reporter, chronicling every move. The visit. The ride. A stop at Sonic (my first; defiantly journal-worthy). What I see out the window, flying by as I head for home.

There is magic out here. A peace and simplicity my heart enjoys, but would soon bore of. I am a city mouse, needing dirty sidewalks, hole-in-the-wall coffee shops, three-story used bookstores with aisles so narrow, my shoulders brush spines on each side. I travel alone but am never lonely; conversation with strangers has always been easy for me, and I collect the stories like they're precious stones.

Out here, there are only phone lines dipping between poles, wide, waking fields, silos and chipped equipment. Beauty and amazement stretching far and wide, missed only as my attention returns to the journal, to the doodles and words and colors I apply.

The car drives closer to home.

{Changing your perspective to achieve your dream...}

+ My Art Saves story is up at Crescendoh this week. Writing this story was a liberating experience and explains how I got started with art & art journaling.

+ I'm teaching this Thursday at Hannah's Home Accents in Antioch, IL from 6-9. What, exactly? Read on!

+ My long-awaited Etsy shop is reopening by the end of the week. Journals, collage books, jewelry, journaling bits, prints, & paintings! All waiting to find great homes!

--

Have you ever had an idea so clear in your head, you were convinced you’d be able to make it, no problem? That, through your dream, you downloaded the instructions and way to manipulate the material in just the right way?

And then, have you sat down with everything, gotten through the easy part, and then everything comes to a screeching halt?

Yes. Me, too.

When I originally conceived the project and class above, I was convinced I’d be able to make the flowers I wanted, by folding over painted canvas and sewing through a button to the canvas. It would be amazing. And each person I told this idea to was equally excited.

Since my studio removes me from the atmosphere and materials available to me in planning a class, I brought only my favorite supplies to the shop to work at one of the workshop tables. There is, in the back of this shop, an amazing little alcove created by a moveable aisle. I compare it to a candy shop. It is the magical place we all wish we had in our closets, our studios: vintage wall paper, ribbon, trim, patterns, every ink pad, mist, paint, stamp you could imagine. Papers and patterns and items and dimension dots and magic.

And this is the place I was encouraged to pull from.

I discovered Glimmer Mists by Tattered Angels and thought, “This is a great alternative to spray paint when you can’t get outside!” Sparkly and colorful, I grabbed a basket of them and went to work, spraying over stencils and papers and bits pulled from the shelves. If you’ve ever worked with spray and stencils, you know how fun this is. And sparkles! Who doesn’t like sparkles!

But when it got to the construction of the flowers themselves, well...

I tried. I did it the way my dream had shown me, and it was too thick to sew through. And then it wasn’t popping off the canvas. I must have sat there with a pile of cut-up canvas for an hour -- I do know I was there much longer than I intended -- trying to figure things out.

And if it were for me, I would have moved on, used something else. But this was for others, and it was an idea I really, really, REALLY wanted to create.

When this happens, you need to keep going. You need to mutter to yourself, cut different sizes, try new ways of folding or maybe the folds weren’t right at all?

I found cute flower buttons I wanted in the center, and tried with my new petal system to sew throught the canvas.

Hard. Not doable.

The second flower had the bits taped to the canvas and the button sewn on.

Better. But not proper for class.

The third flower was created independent of the canvas and sewn together. Then, I knew dimensional dots existed, but where? And searching I went, through clear plastic drawers, to find what would be perfect.

Attaching the pre-made flower to the canvas with a dot, I finally achieved what I was looking for -- without even knowing it.

On Thursday, I’ll be teaching this technique to a group of creative & fun women. If you're in the area, why don't you join us? 

{why being published is a lot like turning thirteen}

So yesterday, I'm driving home from my friend's house and I've told myself that I cannot stop anywhere because I don't have any money. Seriously. There is something like $30 in my checking account, and that's for my Lyrica this afternoon if I can get COBRA and some subsidy and whatever. I think I'll put the HR person on speaker phone and let Dad yell at them for me. Because he's a Marine. And thus scary.

Anyway, driving home, and I pass a Starbucks, sigh wistfully, and wonder if I should stop for my beloved green tea latte even though I just bought the powdered mix for it at the Japanese grocery store fifteen minutes prior (side note: I am drinking it now and it's fantastic). And my eye wanders a bit, probably controlled by the Critic's cousin Shopaholic, and I notice a Jo-Ann's. And this isn't your regular Jo-Ann's -- it's a Jo-Ann's Superstore.

This is where my rational brain kicks in and says, "It can't hurt to look. And you need yarn for those things you're crocheting."

"They're flowers."

"Sure. Yeah. Flowers." Except this part of my brain is totally rolling it's eyes at me. Or my eyes at me. It's kinda confusing, since all these aspects in my head are sharing physical space with me.

Ignoring the comment, I walk in. There are books along the entry asile, and then magazines. I scope 'em out. Seeing the pretty blues of Artful Blogging, I pick it up because I like seeing if there are people I know in there (because I like emailing them and saying YAY because we all like celebrations!). But when I open it up, I see this:

sneaking a photo. isn't the lighting here great?

Which is a total surprise, but welcome. So then, I'm standing up there near the registers, trying to take a photo without attracting attention because I've just entered the store, and while this is happy happy, I did want to, you know, shop a bit. With my eyes. Or maybe my walet...I can't be sure.

After taking my photos, I wandered. And while I wandered, I couldn't help but have a smile on my face; here I am, an anonymous shopper like everyone else, except I can walk up to a magazine on the shelf and point out my work. Yes, it is a wonderful feeling. But as I grabbed stuff I really didn't need, I realized that I didn't really feel any different. It's like turning thirteen or twenty -- yes, you feel like you should feel different, but nothing's really changed, has it? You didn't just become eligible to drive, or drink, and the world's still spinning the same way as the day before.

Just because my artwork's now in magazines doesn't mean I am a different person. I chat with more people and have replies on Twitter and love connecting with people, but no, I don't feel any different.

That's the moral of the story, folks. I remember reading a chapter in Anne Lamont's Bird by Bird about how you shouldn't focus on being published because it's not going to change you. Or, rather, you'll just become blocked creatively because you feel you have to live up to what you've already put out there. It doesn't make anything easier or more fun. So don't worry about if people are commenting on your Flickr photos or your blog, don't worry about making things just to be published. Just go with the flow. It will happen when it's mean to happen.

Wow. This post turned out more uplifting than I thought!

Until tomorrow, my dears.

EDIT: Jami brings up an excellent point. I feel somewhat different in that being published does change you. It changes you in the sense that your work is out there to inspire others!!!! It is out there for ALL to see, admire and recognize that their ideas and creations have merit as well.

I love that I can inspire more people because of publication. I love that I get more questions and readers and such. I ADORE helping. That is the reason I blog. And I love it. And yes, I get giddy when I think about it.

That being said, I think everyone's stuff should have merit whether something like it is published or not. Then again, reading this comment, all I could think was, "What if this page isn't as good? Will people still like it? What if it inspires people to NOT do something?" It's a lot of pressure, sometimes, knowing people know your work. And I speak from my fangirl I've-written-popular-fanfic self, where something may be amazing and well-recieved and inspire others, but that doesn't help me when I sit down to start something new. Which may also be why I haven't written in awhile. That, and I am horrible at finishing things. I swear, I have unfinished stories. And journal pages. And lists. Sentences and

{journal #12, test prints, & artful journals}

Inspired by the beautiful stitched journals by Traci Bautista and all the yummy posts of journals created in Mary Ann's most recent class, I decided to do something a little different for Journal #12.

Despite my deep love for spiral journals, making my WISH journal reminded me of the distinct feel of a hard-bound journal...those wonderful pages that turn like an old, loved book, the way you can run your hands clear across two pages....those wonderful attributes that distinguish a hard-bound journal from a spiral.

Don't get me wrong, I love my spirals. They're great for curling up with in a comfy chair or in smaller spaces; I often draw up my knees, fold back the journal, and work on a single page. But I wanted to play with something different.

I am in love with vinyl. I adore those cute Asian journals with the nice vinyl covers, how it feels under your fingers when you hold them. So, after playing with thinner vinyl for the WISH journal, I decided to use a bit of the thicker stuff bought to make another WISH one on #12.

And then, of course, there was the canvas.

Play is the best way to create art. After two failed attempts to screen print on canvas tote bags, my father and I decided to grab some canvas to test out a. the new squeegee we bought, and b. the amount of pressure and ink needed to successfully print each image (I'll go into everything I've learned about Yudu printing in another post.).

So we squirted ink and pulled images and mixed things together. Each panel was a beautiful rainbow of subtle color printing my own artwork and ink writing. There's defiantly a difference between painting directly on canvas and printing on it, just the feel and new realm of possibility. All the colors and places and repetitions.

Combining the test print canvas panels, a hard-cover journal, and a temperamental sewing machine, I created Journal #12, the test print journal. I've never really done anything like this before; as I mentioned, my sewing machine is temperamental and the bobbin doesn't really work right. Let's say you sew a straight stitch. Turn the fabric over, and you'll find a huge mess of twisted, looped fabric. I wouldn't sew any clothing or, well, anything that defiantly NEEDS to stay together with it, but playing with fabric for a journal? Sure.

This is what you get for $60 at Walmart.

There are several theories as to why this happens, the most prevalent being that, not knowing how to load it at first, I took the entire thing out instead of the small bobbin cover. This news taught me how to do it right and earned the machine a few whacks that successfully realigned it...kinda.

Suffice to say, whenever I want to sew with the thing, I need to do a few test stitches before using it on my actual piece.

Even after stitching for awhile (as it seems to be like my old car in the winter – you've gotta let it warm up a bit before it runs nicely), the thing would skip stitches when using the zig-zag. Which is okay, as this was an artful piece and not perfection.

A side note on perfection: it is very hard to let go of this need to make everything perfect, even with meditative art. Sometimes, you just need to let go.

I guess I'm like the old car or cheap sewing machine, too, because after working for a bit, I finally warmed up and started to lose myself in the creation of a fabric piece. Much like when I work on collage pieces, I just GO. Grab random pieces, cut strips and blocks, put things together oddly. I somehow bypass that part of my brain that thinks and let creativity flow through me.

These last two journal-making experiments have really shown me something new. I find I'm looking at creating journals, that, instead of being vehicles of art contained solely between the covers, I'm seeing the journals as pieces of art in their own right, beautiful creations that only increase their beauty by what I put inside them. I never put much thought into the journals I worked in; now, I find creating beautiful journals on their own is a grand new adventure.

I may put some up for sale soon, as I did before the holidays. But long ago I learned that I have to enjoy the pieces I'm making or else, well, I'll never make 'em. I can't just roll out a bunch because I need inventory...I need to let it happen naturally. Then again, with all the fun I'm having, that may happen sooner than I thought.

{impromptu art lessons}

Last night, needing to re-center, I took to the kitchen table with a basket of supplies, some papers, and a postal service envelope. Inspired by the videos of Traci Bautista I saw on Hannah's site, I grabbed a foam brush and began laying down papers.

There's something comforting in the mindless work of patchwork collage. In just letting the mind float high above the world, lingering, relaxing in a hammock made of air. Cut, glue, rip, glue, smooth, glue.

But doing it so publicly, that is, not in my studio, attracts attention. As I'm usually shrugged off, I was surprised to hear my brother say he's like to make a collage, too!

So we sat next to each other and continued. Except he wanted a certain shape. "I have to make something," he said, gluing it down, "that's what my teachers told me."

"Well, it's a lie," I told him. "We're just laying down paper. Don't worry about any of that, now."

"Why do you go against what teachers say?" he asked.

"Because I want to do what makes me happy," I replied.

And so we glued and tore and I could see how difficult it was for him to let go of what school and teachers had said and just let things happen. At so many points, I wanted to reach over and show him how to make it "better." But Kira, I told myself, maybe that's how he likes it.

Later on, when trying to figure out where a piece fit, he frowned. "I don't want to cover up the star. Maybe I shouldn't have done that first."

"Oh, well," I said. "Just cover it up. Never be afraid to cover something; you never know what good stuff may come from doing that."

So we collaged and then played with paint and wrote with Sharpies. At the end of the night, he had something he liked. Standing, he held it out, "I can't believe I made this."

"See? Isn't art relaxing?"

"I feel like I've accomplished something."

That is where we want to go, to that place of amazement, of seeing something beautiful come from our own hands and a pile of paper. That sense of accomplishing something wonderful -- not an item on our to-do lists or task at work, but something original and part of ourselves. Art brings us to such a place.

But the struggle, oh, the struggle! How I wished I could take those lessons from his head and let him play from the heart. A few years ago, I was offered a job teaching art to children after school, but upon seeing how they had to copy a picture, do exactly the same thing, with no freedom to go outside the lines, I declined. Why do we have to teach children this way? What happened to wild abandon?

This all reminds me of a song by Harry Chapin. Think on this when you feel blocked, when you feel those lines -- lines you MUST break free of.

The little boy went first day of school
He got some crayons and started to draw
He put colors all over the paper
For colors was what he saw
And the teacher said.. What you doin' young man
I'm paintin' flowers he said
She said... It's not the time for art young man
And anyway flowers are green and red
There's a time for everything young man
And a way it should be done
You've got to show concern for everyone else
For you're not the only one

And she said...
Flowers are red young man
Green leaves are green
There's no need to see flowers any other way
Than the way they always have been seen

But the little boy said...
There are so many colors in the rainbow
So many colors in the morning sun
So many colors in the flower and I see every one

Well the teacher said.. You're sassy
There's ways that things should be
And you'll paint flowers the way they are
So repeat after me.....

And she said...
Flowers are red young man
Green leaves are green
There's no need to see flowers any other way
Than the way they always have been seen

But the little boy said...
There are so many colors in the rainbow
So many colors in the morning sun
So many colors in the flower and I see every one

The teacher put him in a corner
She said.. It's for your own good..
And you won't come out 'til you get it right
And all responding like you should
Well finally he got lonely
Frightened thoughts filled his head
And he went up to the teacher
And this is what he said.. and he said

Flowers are red, green leaves are green
There's no need to see flowers any other way
Than the way they always have been seen

Time went by like it always does
And they moved to another town
And the little boy went to another school
And this is what he found
The teacher there was smilin'
She said...Painting should be fun
And there are so many colors in a flower
So let's use every one

But that little boy painted flowers
In neat rows of green and red
And when the teacher asked him why
This is what he said.. and he said

Flowers are red, green leaves are green
There's no need to see flowers any other way
Than the way they always have been seen.

I believe in you. You can do it, and create beautiful, wonderful, amazing flowers. I give you permission to do so, to create whatever makes you happy, no matter how "wrong" it may be.