{art journal + inspiration book = ?}

Not that I’m happy about a certain bookstore chain biting the dust (in fact, I had a few months left of my Plus membership), but it did help to spur on this new wave of journaling juju I’m working through.

You see, Becca and I visited the nearest Borders still open, which was near her place, but 40 minutes from mine (I’ve become a huge fan of used bookstores in this Borders-less era, which works since I live across the street from one of the best-known used/new indie bookshops in the state) and wandered the very crowded store for whatever we could find. Being as I work for myself (scraping by as I continue to morph and change and figure out my place in this digital artistic landscape) and Becca is underemployed in child-care, there wasn’t much we could afford — Amazon has lower prices, anyway — but we could afford the magazines.

I haven’t really been into womens’ magazines past Bust and Bitch — two amazing publications, the later of which is a non-profit media machine funded by women all over the country — only buying, and this is fun, Japanese fashion magazines for years as I love Harajuku fashion, as it is. But my darling Florence Welch of Florence + the Machine was on the cover of Nylon, and at 40% off, I simply had to have it.

Let’s backtrack a bit. This isn’t a story that can be told linearly, rather, my mind doesn’t think in a straight line — what is that quote? Time exists so things don’t happen all at once?

"The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once." - Albert Einstein

There we go.

A month ago, I went to Art Unraveled to meet up with Dina and finally get to meet Traci in-person, and got the chance to page through the Journal Fodder Junkies journals while the other artists were speaking.

(Rice asked questions of the artists gathered, about inspiration, which you can see here. Extra credit if you can spot me for a few seconds!)

I think I’d already been thinking about how my journals had gradually moved away from where I started; a few years ago, I decided to stop using magazine images in my journals, and even did a radical experiment of creating an entire journal without any outside imagery. It wasn’t that I don’t like journals with magazine bits in them, just that I was in a different place — I, personally, didn’t like the aesthetic in my own work.

From an entry back in 2009:

So, today, I sat in the studio, turned up my iPod, and started painting. It looked great. And then, I kept going, and going, and BAM -- I could feel the teenager inside me screaming and crying, telling me to destroy it. "No, I can't do that," Older Me told her, "It is valuable in it's imperfections. It shows us what we don't like." "But we know what we DO like," she shouted back. "Why can't we just go back to that? To the way it was?" "Because how will we grow?" I said. "I was getting bored with acrylics and paintbrushes and drawings." "Then pull out the magazines," Teenage Kira advised. "You thought you were being all smart, deciding to not use them, but you really do like them sometimes." So I did. And made some awesome pages.

Oh, how clever I thought I’d been. But, in looking through those journals, with all those scraps of paper from the places they’d been, found walking around the block (Dave had a quote about this, about walking around your block and picking up the bits you find before getting started in the studio), I recognized a yearning that beforehand didn’t have a name, that I was missing that bit of journaling that more resembled a book of inspiration than a painting on each page. I knew, then, that I’d be taking a new turn by going back in the past — think of it this way; I was using something I learned in school I never thought I’d ever use. We’ve all had moments like this, that surprise at using knowledge we thought useless, that we’d never visit again.

Except now I’m a new me, which means it isn’t the same person looking at the prospect of using magazine images in her journal, so it’s turned into something new. Instead of being a journal full of only paint and artist’s pages, it is now a place where anything I find inspiring is taped or glued down right beside experiments with stencils or even the stencils themselves!

And I like this hybrid return to my roots. It coincides with some soul work I’m doing with the blog, and my identity on the internet as part of Gwen Bell’s Align Your Website. I told you last week that I’d be making changes in real-time, and you’ll soon be seeing the bare-bones as I work to figure out the content and framework for a new digital sanctuary.

As part of this, I’ll be stepping back from social media (such as Twitter & Facebook), so if you’d like to visit or keep in contact, check in here or the weekly newsletter. I’ll be posting daily, either long or short bits, and sending out the newsletter. And as True to You 2’s last lesson will be posted on Monday, I’ll be back to offering videos. I don’t know how long I’ll be taking a break from social media, but figure I’ll know the end when it happens.

{the wind of passing footprints - journal inspiration}

Ever since I was a little girl, I have loved unicorns. They decorated my childhood bedroom in way of a border running the walls, in pictures and drawings and stuffed animals. Books bore them on the cover. And yet for all this, the image that sticks out most in my mind is that of the Lady Amalthea clinging to the cliffs just under Hagsgate castle, afraid of the sea; she has forgotten she is a unicorn at heart, a creature of rare beauty and grace and magic. 

I’ve always loved The Last Unicorn, but it wasn’t until a few months ago that I actually picked up the novel and read it. And oh, how beautiful a story it is! 

I found an illustration in a magazine to celebrate the novel, and knew it was for me. I clipped it and put it in my journal. And as I continued to work, to play and paint and doodle, I found a small image of a woman’s feet in water. 

I flashed to the Unicorn, backing up, ready to take her fate. 

The unicorn and the Red Bull stood facing each other at the arch of the bow, and the unicorn’s back was to the sea. The Bull moved in slowly, not charging, but pressing her almost gently toward the water, never touching her. She did not resist him. Her horn was dark, and her head was down, and the Bull was much her master as he had been on the plain of Hagsgate, before she became the Lady Amalthea. It might have been that same hopeless dawn, except for the sea. 

How many times in our lives have we faced our own Red Bulls? Those fears that grip our hearts and take over, squeeze until our chests hurt and can’t take in another breath? Let someone or something in our lives steal our strength and bravery until all that is left is a beauty with her head down and horn darkened by her own lack of belief in her magic?  

Oh, darlings, I’ve been there. The process is gradual. You don’t feel it happening until you wake up one morning and wonder who, exactly, you are, and how did this great beast get in here, trapping you between it and the wall? 

Yet she was not altogether beaten. She backed away until one hind foot actually stepped into the water. At that, she sprang through the sullen smolder of the Red Bull and ran away along the beach: so swift and light that the wind of her passing blew her footprints off the sand. The Bull went after her. 

It may have been only her hooves, but she was woken up. You see, even when we feel powerless, when we feel there’s no magic left within us, when we feel unworthy and can feel that sea swelling around our feet, the foam rising over the skin of our calves, we’re reminded that there’s nothing to be gained by going into the sea. Others have been trapped there, seen only in the crest of the waves, the foam of the sea, specters and warnings of what can happen. 

So the next time you feel beat, think of the Unicorn. She fights for love, for the fate of the rest of her kind, for prophecy, but mostly, she fights for herself. 

{finding my doodler spirit}

 

I’ve never considered myself a good doodler. Honest. I just don’t feel that I have a large enough internal doodling encyclopedia to create anything varied enough to not be boring. 

A couple months ago, one of the women at the mixed-media group I attend told me about this new pen she’d purchased off someone’s recommendation (and I’m sorry; I don’t remember the teacher’s name!) and how she loved it. “It wasn’t expensive at all!” 

When I started college, I got my first fountain pen. Nothing fancy or expensive, just a lime-green one I would write with. It feels cool to write with a fountain pen — if you’ve never tried it, you’re missing out! There is just something almost magical about writing with a fountain pen, the way the ink swishes from the nib, a smooth, continuous stream that isn’t dry like a ballpoint or even slick like a gel pen. But smooth. Flowing. It almost lends itself to transforming even your grocery list into a piece of art. 

But I lost that pen. And forgot the magic. It was replaced a few years later, and I carried it in my purse when I moved out to Los Angeles for a bit. It was snuggled in the little purse next to my very first visual journal, where paintings about airplanes and oceans were sandwiched between notes and plot ideas for scripts. I remember asking a writer for an autograph and having to say, “It’s a fountain pen!” when he tried to sign the program (Oh, Eric Kripke, I’m sorry for throwing that curve ball!). 

That, too, was lost. 

I never thought of applying a fountain pen to art until that meeting, in July, when I was reminded of the magic. You can draw with them? Many artists actually do? The only talk of ink with drawing I’d seen was from my own experiments writing and doodling on journal pages with a dip pen, and a few weeks over the summer when several people were discussing Noodler’s Ink. 

Why not? my inner voice asked. You can save up and get one and see what happens. 

I haven’t bought art supplies for myself in three weeks, darlings. Three glorious, fountain pen filled weeks. And I don’t regret it at all. 

The doodles on these journal pages were done as I sat idly in the morning, curled on myself, letting my mind wander. Each gesture, when I draw or write with my Lamy, is exaggerated. Swirls and swishes and hash-tag lines. Want a thicker line? Press down. Thinner? Less pressure. You don’t need much for the black ink to come out, and it works over anything. Magic. 

If you’ve read my post from today’s newsletter, you know how odd it is, to write that you don’t need a certain supply to make certain art. But I wanted to write this post, in conjunction, to show that when you have saved up, when you’ve waited and researched and gone to finally get that supply, cherish it. I wasn’t holding off on doodling or drawing because I didn’t have the fountain pen, but I sure am awash in joy from holding it, even if I’m writing my day’s to-do list. 

The pen I purchased is a Lamy Safari fountain pen, which costs $35. I also use a converter so I can draw & write with Noodler’s Bulletproof Black Ink.

{shifts and changes and new ideas...just what a journal is for!}

lost stars; 10"x8" mixed-media on gesso board

I've been trying new techniques, playing with new and loved materials, and grabbing new tools. It's fun -- some are things I've used before and purged from my collection when I moved on to newer, shiny-er things. Others are brand new, interesting, lab experiments in a studio done in vivid Technicolor. I used my first Shiva Oil Paintstick on the painting above, creating a creamy layer above some paint. And while having to wait 24 hours for it to dry (though I'm thinking I may start leaving things outside to dry in this 105F heat) kinda cramped my usual style, I loved going back over it with more paint, more materials, blending and discovering and smiling through the whole thing. 

I like trying new things. But this new shift feels like another step in the road created by my move, when my style shifted and flipped and took me along on the ride. 

You may recognize this as the self-portrait I used in my last video. I decided to keep going, working over it and then re-drawing it with a Stablo pencil (which has become a favorite, as it will write and draw over ANYTHING). This page was done entirely with a palette knife. 

I've also started playing with soft pastels again, and have found that there is a difference between the cheaper ones and more expensive ones. I started with an inexpensive set and found, as you can see above with the magenta, that they spread a lot. Which some people like. But I was looking for something a bit between that and how Caran d'Arch crayons spread when you use your finger on them. I've discovered Prismicolor NuPastels, and love them. I'll post pics tomorrow of a page with those. 

I love love trim that is more crocheted or lacey than any other. And why not paint over it? Create something entirely new? I just love how I kept going -- I didn't say, "There is trim here. No paint, please!" I simply treated it as another collaged element of the page. 

More paint. The hearts are the discards from punching shapes with my Cuddlebug for tags. Why not keep them? I'm finding I'm drawn more and more to discards, small bits, and odd, ripped shapes. For awhile, I was into using scrapbooking or patterned papers in my journal, and then painting over them. Now, I want what's left over when I've finished something else. 

And while the drawing may be in a style totally different (it was a blind contour from a photo), I love it. I love not only the idea that it is me, as I am, not how I would like to be, but that all the materials and ideas and application and colors are just as much a part of the portrait as the actual drawing. At first, I was unsure. Scared. Is this art? Is this good? We can often ask ourselves such things when something so drastically new comes from us, but as I learned today, you never lose what you've done before, not completely. It simply shifts and grows and takes you for a ride. 

You simply need to be willing to get on. 

{waking in color}

I’m actually writing this before bed, though it is technically Monday. I just finished re-watching the unaired Sherlock pilot, again, though only because someone else in the apartment hadn’t seen it yet and that show is bloody brilliant. Ahem. I’ve adopted lots of British-isms in the past 2 weeks or so, which is wonderful. 

Is it really Monday? Where did my weekend go? 

I did publish that video, which was 3 hours or so of editing and learning iMovie ’09 after Final Cut Pro decided it no longer wanted to work on my computer. Last week was filled with technology woes -- first, my upgrades to a new OS didn’t work out so well (my Mac is a hackentosh, a two-year-old Dell Inspiron desktop that is made of magic), then, when those were settled, my new camera’s software wouldn’t load unless things were upgraded, and the upgrades crashed the system and...

*deep breath*

I finally was able to film near sundown on Wednesday, tried to edit Thursday, was back on Friday, and finished with a marathon session on Saturday. There was a point in there when I asked myself why I was going through all the trouble, and then, when I was giggling and getting really into editing, I realized why: I love making vids. I love putting together the layers, figuring out the shots and the angles and what goes where. I love writing it all out before I start so I have a roadmap of some kind. 

And I feel like, for the past three or four years of putzing around on YouTube, that I’ve been asleep. That this deep love -- this love I have a bachelor’s degree in -- was always waiting, but I never took YouTube seriously enough to put the effort into it. And that was my mistake. Even though I wasn’t make money off things (I now make around $5 a month from a few ad-share videos), I should have seen that that didn’t matter. 

I went that way with my art. I created and journaled and blogged even through it wasn’t making me a penny. I just had fun. And I think these days we get too caught up in numbers or stats that we may lose sight of this. 

 

Becca asked me last week for advice on getting more subscribers for her blog. She asked how I got popular. I don’t consider myself very popular, and think my Facebook page gets more traffic than this blog, so I wasn’t able to really answer her question because I’ve never thought about it. 

This was my mission statement when I began blogging in 2006: 

To create the type of blog I’d love to visit. 

There weren’t very many art journaling blogs out there, nor were there many books, so I decided to fill this gap I found with my own adventures. I never went around and advertised, didn’t comment too much on other blogs (I’m terrible at that, by the way; I may read yours regularly and never say anything!), and had little idea what I was doing. But I knew what I wanted to read about online, what images and inspiration I wanted to see, so that’s what I produced. I posted to my blog and on Flickr and that was it. 

In fact, I made sure I didn’t get too wrapped up in numbers. I didn’t want to care; caring too much meant I could be disappointed if a post didn’t get any comments or very many views. I published nearly every journal page I created back in those days, posting so often, it was insane. 

But I did get caught up. And when people didn’t like pages, I’d get sad. And when I was making pages, I wouldn’t even be ten minutes into it when I started thinking about posting it online and what people would think. Those thoughts began influencing my work, and wow did I get blocked. 

So I decided to cool it on posting journal pages for awhile -- a practice that continues, I must admit; I post about 30-50% of my pages these days, and haven’t scanned one for months. I’ve found more satisfaction in flash posts on my Facebook page and writing my newsletter than in anything else. And now that I’m back to making the types of videos I enjoy, I’m just tickled pink all the time. 

I set out this weekend to paint. To turn off the computer and just be. And I didn’t log on much -- I checked my email three times and Facebook about the same. Just quick little jaunts. Since I lost my cell phone two weeks ago, I don’t have that constant tether to the online world anymore (but am freaked out when driving around without any way to contact people should something *cough* Irunoutofgasonthefreeway *cough* happen). It was great. I doodled. A lot. Worked on the same journal page all day, saw a movie, bought a book, and oh, yeah -- found out I might have strep. For now, it’s a very sore throat, achy ear, going from hot to cold, and a persistent headache that has me walking through water. 

 

Ugh. Visiting the little clinic in Walgreens tomorrow just in case, though I trust the independent diagnoses of my parents, as they are experienced in such things. How this happened, I don’t know! (Note: if I owe you something other than a package to put in the post, please be patient; I shall email you later) Anyway, no insurance = little clinic in a drug store on a mother’s dime. How far I’ve come. 

Anyway, I think what’s happened is I was trying to be like those other blogs, with their deep, moving posts that everyone links to and loves, and you know what? I’m not like that. I like having conversations. I like living a digital life. I like making videos and doing art and teaching classes (and yay news about True to You 2; the lovely Tam is working with me on that, the angel she is...). I like making journals (and am getting someone to pull out the binding machine so I can stock those loved spirals in my etsy shop). I like helping others discover their potential (if I could be an art journaling coach with real clients, I’d be a happy girl). 

There’s my advice, Becca. Be yourself. Don’t try to get readers -- just be. They’ll come. Give them time to find you. Go out on a ledge and submit something to a magazine. And be an awesome friend so your friend (ie: me) can link to your blog because I just adore you and your awesome creative spirit. Have I mentioned her home is covered in art by family and friends? It’s like walking into color that you never want to leave. 

Bed for me, now. I’ll post this in the morning. 

xoxo, 

samie kira

{shots around the studio}

{two finished journal orders waiting to be packed & shipped}

{a journal page; the fabric is a shape cut from some Amy Butler fabric I got on clearance}

{journal page worked on with one of Krista's awesome foam Prima stamps}

{the other side of the spread with collaged bits}

{piece of dyed muslin I stamped and stitched to a journal page with pearl cotton}

What is on your table today?

{overpainting photos (of you!) in your journal}

So I decided to try a new way of doing videos. It's a vlog + a time-lapse of a journal page all in one! I'll be doing one of these a week, so if you have any ideas on what I should cover, let me know! 

{contemplate, plan, doodle, and dream}

So, uh, hi everyone! I'm still alive. I think this may be one of the longest times I've gone without blogging. It wasn't really for any other reason than feeling I had nothing in my life worth blogging. But as I look back on my week now, I realized two things: 

1. I totally had stuff to blog about.

2. I need to take more pictures, because wordy posts can make your brain hurt. 

Not that I don't love writing. I can write for hours without a break, just letting the words flow. In fact, this morning, my mother was telling me about a book she downloaded to her Kindle. 

"There were all these errors," she said, then explained them. "Kira, you're such a gifted writer. You should be submitting your stories to the Kindle store." 

"Naw," I blushed. (I am one of those people who can't take a compliment; I get really uncomfortable and shy!)

"You could just change the names and publish them!" she smiled. 

And I love that my mother knows the stories I spend my nights writing aren't original pieces of fiction (sidenote: I've been working on the same fan story for about two months, now, and it's at 35,000 words. I'm a wordy girl!). But her comment got me to thinking: Why not try to write something original and submit it? There's something that tells me I'm GOOD at this -- that I can put together words in an eye-pleasing way. That I can pull you into a story. So why haven't I done this, yet? Why haven't I gone ahead and tried? 

Anyway, there's one thought rattling around in my head! 

--

I also headed over to Glendale with Tina for the area's mixed-media meetup group thingy (collective, right?). We always get there early because it's either get there an hour early and wander around the shop, or get there late because of rush-hour. I'm pretty sure everyone else in the group is from the west valley, but I've never been one to shy away from something fun just because of a little drive. 

As always, it was fun to hang out with all the gals. Tina has some photos on her blog, as do Dina and Julie (who was our special guest!). And remember that starburst stencil I used? I know someone asked me where I got it/who made it. Turns out it is by Crafter's Workshop, who's owner, Jamie, came to our little shindig as well and gave us stencils. YAY! How can you turn down free stencils? She's such a sweetie and her company makes the best stencils ever, so head over there and check them out! 

--

I've had a few deadlines this week, and a few more things moved around, so I never know if I'm coming or going! I did, however, get things done early (shocker!) and am now reading things over, formatting stuff, and taking many pictures to really get the best one instead of the one I quickly snapped. 

As for my journaling/art/paintings/creations:

I'm going through an awkward growth phase. I'm flipping back and forth to work on several pages at once, and my new explorations have the thick stretched and bulging so much, I can't use the elastic to keep it closed anymore! I'm trying to figure out a way to put all this newness into words I can share with you, but until I can, I shall leave you with some photos of the pages I'm working on/have recently finished. 

Maybe, tonight, I'll sit down with my notebook and try to figure this all out. I know it's something new and exciting and amazing, but haven't been able to do words -- just images and little doodles and things here and there. A painting is taking shape in my mind, an idea, a bit of wonder. I just need to be open to it all. 

--

Here are two final bits of stuff! (can you tell how cluttered my head has become?)

1. I've put up the button journal I made as the example for my Button Journal Workshop on Etsy. It's such a darling little thing, and when I made it, I was originally going to use it, but then I found some things to make a new journal and am going through this odd patch, so it needs a home!
Sold before I could post this!

2. I've started a side-project called Born Brave. It's a newsletter of sorts -- more letters & essays. A diary of possibility & living with chronic illness. I've gotten tons of emails and comments over the years about how, by sharing my story, I've inspired others to try. And I've written essays on creativity and chronic illness for years, just never knew where to put them. Why is it paid? For two reasons. A. Because I get really personally -- more so than I ever have in public before. A letter system like this keeps the actual content off the internet. B. Chronic illness means no insurance, tons of doctor's appointments, and meds. And I'll be honest, I'm struggling on that point. I'm hoping to get guests to write essays and letters, too, and if this grows large enough, be able to pay them for their help (right now, they will get a month free). 

Have I talked your ear off? Or your eyes, since you're reading? What do I sound like when you read my words in your head? 

Ahem. I'm going off to contemplate, plan, doodle, and dream. I'll catch y'all tomorrow. 

with love, 
Samie Kira