[mini-tutorial] Thin Line Squeeze Bottles

I was wandering through Hobby Lobby, as I do, and found these little bottles with needle tips. Now, I’ve used these little bottles in my artwork before and made quite a mess, and wondered how the experience would be changed if the tips were really, really little.

It is awesome. 

I mixed some fluid acrylic with water in one, put on the needle tip, and started playing around. You can draw remarkably well with these bottles, and I found myself doodling and then experimenting with writing. 

 However, be careful! Once the acrylic is gone and there’s only muddy water left, you won’t get those precise lines anymore. So play around with your watercolors and acrylics in these bottles to find the right viscosity to make some really cool marks.  

The great thing is, since you’re writing in acrylics, you can work over them or color the shapes in without having to worry if the ink is going to spread. And since you can hold the bottle much more firmly, and have a solid tip, you can write and doodle with it much easier than if you were to attempt the same thing with a brush. 

 

The Power of Words

 

I was originally going to write something different for today, but as my blog is a space for me to write and process and share, I’m going where my thoughts are taking me. This may or may not end up on the blog, so if it has — HI! I write an essay every day, and have been working on a monster of one that will probably be turned into a short e-book (I haven’t done one of those in a long time!) as it is full of references, quotes, thoughts, and even sketches. 

So I’ll write on something else. 

Something interesting happened to me last week. And I’m pretty sure only one or two people know the entire story, so the event is personal, private, even, except for those messages exchanged between me and someone else. It was eye opening and really hit me. 

What I say matters to you. 

Allow me to explain. I have a personal Facebook account where I don’t add very many people because I want to keep it as a safe place — one where I chat with my family and friends from college or back home in Chicago. I’m more open and, well, a huge drama queen once a month, and often write about my fears or insecurities because those people who can read my updates there are people I feel safe with. I did this separation of personal and professional on purpose so as to present a certain face to the world. Yes, I’m open about many things (just look at all I revealed during my 30 days of daily vlogging!), and my health struggles have begun to be highlighted here on the blog. But I try, as many others in my position do, to stay on-topic, encouraging, and positive when online. 

I think part of what happened is that I’m me. I see myself through my own eyes, and track progress and such as it happens. I really did fall into this profession, if it can be called that (as I pay my bills and live off the money I make here, I guess I can!), so each thing I accomplish is often a surprise. I don’t have a chart of things I need to accomplish, nor do I believe that once you’re published, you become a “real” artist. I am incredibly blessed to have such a wonderful relationship with Christen and the rest of the gals over at Stampington, and am so grateful for the opportunities they’ve given me to share my thoughts and artwork with the world. 

Because that’s what I love doing most of all: sharing. I get hyper when someone chats with me about art. I gush and encourage those floundering and doubting themselves. I say, “If I can become an artist with no schooling or training or out-of-the-box talent, then anyone can!” I want you all to succeed. I want you all to discover yourselves and become happy with and proud of your art and journals. I want to hold your hand when you begin to doubt yourself. My life is so much better than it was six years ago when I first picked up a pen to try drawing, and I know my entire world view has improved to one of joy and love from a place of deep, dark depression over my various physical issues. 

And because of all this, I still feel like the same me. When I get emails from you saying I’ve inspired you, or helped you, or touched you, I sometimes have to pinch myself because I can’t believe I’ve touched so many lives. From my little closet. From this corner of a room. How is it that I can reach so far? I’m nobody famous, or have an art degree, or have even shown any of my paintings anywhere but my apartment walls. I don’t teach sold-out classes or have tons of followers. 

Okay, maybe the last is true. 

But when did this happen? I don’t pay attention to stats or followers as a way to stay somewhat sane, but I will admit I’ve noticed a jump. I was sitting at dinner on Saturday night and was fiddling with my profile on Twitter and showed my phone to my younger brother and said, “I have 1,100 followers on Twitter! How did that happen? I’m not interesting!”

“Maybe you are,” he replied. 

Maybe I am. 

All of this is backstory to what I learned last week, which was that what I say matters. I think we all measure our success against those artists we admire, thinking that when we make it big, we’ll have all the things they do, go the places they do, have books and articles and shows. I do this. And what I’ve learned, now, is that you do, too. 

To me. 

Now here’s the heart of it, and I’m glad I didn’t spend all that much time on my make-up today, because I’m inevitably going to cry. 

If you had walked up to me six years ago and told me I’d be writing articles and designing my own stamp line and working with the very people I admired oh-so-much, I’d have laughed in your face. I’ve come a long way, darling, but I still feel small, at times, and no one can see themselves from a distance. And to think there are people out there just getting started with art or journaling, that feel tiny and untalented, that want to try but don’t have faith just yet, that see my videos or read my articles or see my blog and find themselves picking up a pen or scissors and paint because of what I’ve shared — 

I wish you could see me right now. 

I really do, crying mess and all. 

Because every one of you have touched me. Every email. Note. Comment. You have all blessed me and I am finally seeing myself from the outside. I am seeing that my words can lift you up. Can help you through a bad day. Can give you faith in yourself and your art. 

And I see, now, that when I post something negative, something I think won’t matter much because I’m me, and compared to giants, I’m just a little thing, can also affect you. This is what I learned this week. That me doubting myself makes you doubt yourself because I’ve become so much more than a girl with a journal in a little studio. I don’t want that. I don’t want you to be anything but encouraged. I want to be honest about my creative life, but I needed to see I am reaching people, now, am being noticed and seen, and a sense of responsibility comes along with that. 

And you all make it all brilliantly wonderful and fun to come to work every day. 

Working with Layers... (part 2 of last weekend's vid!)

Here's part two for your enjoyment. I spent a lot of time editing this to make it dynamic, informative, and fun! Sorry about the end; the way I had everything set up meant there was a light above the camera, and the camera didn't like that -- but I'm pretty sure there's a LOT for you to learn from this vid that you won't miss me writing words with a black marker. ;) 

I loved making this one! I think for next week, I'll be showing you the basics of stitching on paper or fabric with a darning foot. Doodling with a sewing machine for the win! 

I've gotten a LOT of questions for next week's Q&A vid; I LOVE learning what you are curious about, because that helps me help you! *G* 

I'll see ya tomorrow; I'm a bit tired and sore from last night's casino adventure (and no, I didn't win big, but I did walk out with $10 more than I walked in with!), so I'll be here watching The Dark Crystal and doodling ideas for a new mini-class I'm psyched to write. 

Happy, Smashing Discoveries

Week two of the Smash book. Roughly. I cheated and chose two photos from the 14th, which means this is four days' worth of journaling. Or photoing? Is there a word for this? 

A few happy discoveries:

  1. I already have a perfect stamp for this -- that written 'date' is from my line at Paperbag Studios.
  2. The itty-bitty cloud punch I got for $1.25 at Tuesday Morning makes the cutest clouds. I punched them out from a painted paper cast-off on my desk. 
  3. The paper takes watercolors pretty decently, so I decided to write with them across the paper as a "background" on the plainer pages. 
  4. I made my own tagged paper-clips with a bag from Staples and little banners I picked up on clearance years ago. (Here's what the Smash version looks like.)

The other fun part about finishing this spread was using Google Hangout for the first time. I was still a little sick over the weekend, so instead of going out to Becca's, I added her in the video hangout, as well as a few other art friends. We chatted and doodled and painted. I find I'm apt to spent more time in the studio when working along-side someone -- not talking, necessarily, but while they, too, are creating. And ever since Skype made three-way-calling a premium service, I've not used it as much. I'm pretty sure I'll be 'hanging out' more now that Google's version has proven tons of fun!

And here's something I realized as I worked in the Smash book:

People say these are art journals for scrapbookers; I think they're also scrapbooks for art journalers!

Truly Connecting

 

My first visual journal was a large lined Moleskine I recovered from the bottom of a desk drawer in 2005. 

Being sick most of last week kept me out of the studio (and often off the computer as well), and I had little energy to do anything more than doodle or work with basic watercolors. I found this Moleskine sketchbook tucked into my bookcase, and found it was the perfect size to settle on my lap. The paper is butter-smooth under my Copic multiliners; it took two days to finish the zentangle, my spiraling, mushy thoughts leaking out around the edges. 

The simplest tools can deliver the most awakening of thoughts. 

 

Settled on my bed, large, funny headphones over my ears, I found myself writing out lyric fragments as I listened to the new Snow Patrol album. Snippets jumped out at me as I slowly wrote and re-wrote the words in terra cotta watercolor, parts of the page resisting the paint. 

This is your life. This is your time.

A symphony, slow music of longing

If this is all you’ve ever asked for, then this is all you’ll get

Every eye trained on a different star

Suddenly, all these fragments made sense. When people ask me what I do for a living, I often joke and say, “I write art and inspiration articles. I guess I wasn’t specific enough when I wished to be a writer!” 

 

And it’s true. Maybe right now, I’m not wishing hard enough. Or big enough. I sometimes feel fragmented by all the things I love doing that my week often ping-pongs around from one media to the next, never settled long enough to finish anything long-term. I have, as they say, my fingers in too-many pots. 

But there was magic that night, sitting on my bed. I spent two hours working on a spread of words and images — an evil queen fading but still watching a princess — getting lost in the motions, the process. I wasn’t creating a dynamic art journal page full of bold colors and layers and all that jazz. No, instead, I was truly connecting. 

Has this happened to you? Have you gotten so caught up in the fads and the colors and the myriad of materials at your fingertips that you’ve forgotten your roots? When was the last time you checked in with yourself?

I would love to know in the comments below.