Girl (with pages) In Progress

 

I was recently asked, and not for the first time, if I add the date to my journal pages. 

I do, once and awhile, but that’s usually only to help me figure out what order the journals go in when I’m going through them to track my progress or share them with friends and students. 

But it isn’t unusual to read a page about New Year’s before one talking about mid-December. My pages don’t go in linear order, one day, then the next. I don’t even work in order. 

Instead, I bounce around. Add a glaze on one page, a photo on another. Do scribbles with fabric paint, then go backwards and glue in collage elements. It’s rare that I sit down and start with a blank page, finishing the entire thing in one sitting. 

 

And I have way more fun this way!

Working randomly, adding little bits here and there, adds to the chaos of a messy page. Layers added over time — longer than an hour or two — means that things aren’t polished. Sometimes, things can feel too smooth around the edges, planning showing through. I love when a page just comes together, the sum of chaos its own beauty. 

What this means is that there are currently four or five pages in-progress in my journal. 

When I sit down to play, I page through, looking at the ones still unfinished, and work on whatever jumps out at me. If I feel like drawing with ink, I’ll turn to a page with a background free of too many added elements so the drawings stick out. If I want to color with shiny pens, I find one that’s nearly finished and just needs a few doodles. The work feels less forced and more organic this way. 

I used to do one a page at a time, in order, start to finish. There’s nothing wrong with that, and yes, at times, I’m inspired to sit and start with a blank piece of paper. But I’m pretty happy with my bouncing, non-linear workflow. 

 

Lately, I’ve added little watercolor pieces to the mix. When you’re low on energy or hurting, a waterbrush and little palette of paint can bring great joy, even if you’re just doodling (one of my favorite activities!). It’s a new artform I’m in love with, surprised with the beauty I’ve been able to create. And to think I never thought I could do watercolors! 

So here are a few of my pages in progress — do you have any? And when was the last time you showed them any love? 

 

Asking, Asking, Learning

my work's in the center.

Today, we all pegged three of our drawings on the wall, sat back, and gave each other feedback. 

I’m no stranger to this process. I’ve been critiquing my own journal pages for years, now, being honest with myself as to what works and what doesn’t, collecting all the good things together like mythical roll-over minutes (side-note: do those still exist?), letting the good compound atop each other until now, when I’m mostly confident I’ll like the pages I create. 

(This is also the ‘fake it ‘till you make it trick of live demos and uStreams.)

I also encourage this habit in my students and you, my darling readers, because everything we create has a lesson to teach us, even the worst pages we want to pass off on a small child or perhaps some magic faerie that tips bad pages into journals for fun. You know, not made by you. 

There is good and not-so-good to be gleamed from everything. 

Here’s the thing — you are not your art. 

We’re all learning. No one can pick up a pen and draw amazingly and in-proportion on their first try. There is always room for improvement, something to learn, and something to celebrate. 

What I learned today is this — I may be a pain in the ass in class, asking questions all the time, asking for advice, looking for that little nudge in the right direction, but that’s how passion shows up. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t ask. If I didn’t want to learn, I would just draw whatever I could and give up. 

Yes, I had problem areas. And overlooked shadows. And only had 45 minutes for one of them, but in the long run, I’ve been having so much fun that it doesn’t matter what grade I got or where I messed up — looking at what I’d managed to create with my own two hands and an unfamiliar material (charcoal), I couldn’t help but smile and be proud. 

So be that person, darlings. Ask questions. Keep searching for answers. Email the artists you love and don’t look back. 

The ones who ask questions are the ones who are passionate, curious, and creative. Never forget that. 

Moblog post! Come see me demo!

Come say hi!

I'll be here until 1pm PST doing some art journal pages and would love to see you!

(Jerry's Artarama in Tempe, AZ)

Journal Page Mathematics

I wanted to show you how the journal page from yesterday’s post (which, if you haven’t read it yet, go give it a gander!) came to be. 

My pages evolve organically, with layers added in bits and pieces here and there until, finally, they come together. They’re not in order as you turn the page; rather, they are scattered and added to and get messy and come to be as they’re supposed to. 

I may not have a particular thought in mind until the final push — a collection of layers, created from the cast-offs of other pages and projects being worked on, will, suddenly, call to me the same way you see a face in the grain of a wooden door, a dog in a puffy white cloud, or Mary in the center of a tomato. In the slant of sunlight or the shadows of a lamp, it all magically becomes clear in a way I’m sure the Divine always saw, but I needed time to see. 

Which is a very positive and together-sounding way to explain my process. My students have been asking me why I make the decisions I do while doing art, and I had to come up with something.

Allow me to walk you through the evolution of a journal page. 

I used this page to test a doodle foam stamp I made for Journaling Deep. It worked alright (this is before I discovered GAC 100 and its magic properties for making brayered stamps work better).

Not pictured: I decided to see if my soft pastels would work the same way my charcoal does, ie. using erasers as drawing tools (I have several erasers, now, and blending stumps). It didn’t. So I covered the page with bright, dreamy colors and then let it get all funky because my fixiatif was in my car. 

I then decided I couldn’t really do anything with a page covered by pastels and painted over them with gesso. This is when I started to get an idea of what I wanted to write/journal about — I’d been listening to Sara Bareilles in the car and there was a lyric I wanted to do a page around. This is about the same time my Leg Pain became my Leg and Arm Pain and I stopped being able to sleep (still unresolved). 

I knew I wanted a representation of myself, and didn’t want it to be an illustration, per se, but a drawing with a nose. So I hopped over to Tam’s Fabulous Faces course and watched the first video — it is an amazing class, by the way! I wholeheartedly recommend it. What’s even more amazing is even though I followed along, my work looks different than what she drew. That’s the mark of a great teacher! 

 

I painted the face with acrylics and watercolor crayons, leaving the rest of it white. 

 

I remembered a page I’d done recently that transformed a bleh page into one I loved, so I borrowed the ink writing and Cobalt Teal, as well as the lines of dots I’d done on there. 

This is am important step to cultivating your own mark — instead of sitting down to find inspiration online or in a magazine, look back through your journal for bits and pieces you can transplant and refine on a later page (I’ll be offering a short course on pushing through your creative roadblocks next week if you want to learn more about this whole process!). 

 

By the time the page was finished, the message had changed from one of anger to one of positivity and hope. And that, my darlings, is the transformative power of visual journaling. 

 

If you’re not on my mailing list, I’d suggest hopping on; as I go through this transition into creating a more aligned business and life, I’ll be posting to the mailing list more often and offering beta-test opportunities for my new offerings. 

Shifting Self-Care for Illness from 'Rest' to 'Work' Really Does Make All the Difference

I wrote this essay at 1am on Saturday, before I finished the novel. I can now say OMG you must read this novel because of it's beauty, honesty, humor, and thought. I miss these characters, but am thankful they were brought into my life by chance (A wish list fill by Teresa, who's note I carry in my house sweater pocket).

In the middle of reading my book of the moment (“The Fault in Our Stars” by John Green, who’s writing is so beautiful, funny, and sad at the same time, I’m glad this book will throw more money at him to keep writing beautiful books) and a line jumped out at me that got me thinking.  

And yes, dear reader, I have actually paused reading said book to write this, propped up in my bed at a quarter to one in the morning. 

Basically, it goes something like this: Hazel is asked if she’s going to Support Group, and she recounts: 

“…but I was really tired from a busy day of Having Cancer, so I passed.”

The thought that entered my head was this:

“I never thought of having a chronic or terminal illness as work.”

But if you, like me, are unfortunate Side-Effects (as Hazel calls us) of Disease, then you know just how much work it is. Oh, it may not look like much on the outside, and if you met me in the street without having read or seen my vastly transparent digital life (side-note: is there such a thing as too much authenticity?), you would have to be as hyper-observant as Sherlock Holmes (and here I’m thinking more BBC Sherlock than any other, though I do enjoy a good Rathbone Sherlock from time to time) to know there was anything less-than-healthy about me. 

And since I’m pretty sure you’re not Sherlock, nor any of his contemporary incarnations, I’ll lay down the clues for you, since I’m in a helpful mood: I walk with a slight limp, grimace when I sit or stand up, and move constantly. In fact, that is the one clue my mother can pick up with alarming speed, though that might be from prolonged exposure to, well, me. My twitchiness and inability to sit still increases in relation to my pain level, and this can be quite annoying, I’m sure, when you’re sitting next to me. I don’t notice it myself, but that’s probably because I’m trying to distract myself from noticing on purpose. 

Quite a lot of acting goes into Living With an Illness That Will Never Leave — you learn to project smiles and excitement when you feel like a zombie out for brains, and resist the knee-jerk reaction to answer the question of “How are you?” with the truth (which would probably make the asker uncomfortable — and that’s okay, since most people aren’t equipped with how to respond when someone admits unrelenting pain and fatigue coupled with Medical Drama when all you wanted was a good or alright in response). 

But acting isn’t the only work you do. I currently have 5 prescription bottles on my nightstand, with another tucked away inside, one in my purse, one I haven’t filled for years since I’m uninsured (America: get your act together, please!). I need to keep track of refill dates and how many refills are left, then check when my next doctor’s appointment is to make sure I won’t run into any bumps (I usually do, as one of my medications isn’t taken at the high dose, normally, so pharmacies are always running out of it). I have to make sure there is a back-up dosage of medication with me at all times in case I go out somewhere and am too fatigued to make it home — friends and family have been known to stay on the phone with me to make sure I stay awake. 

Then there’s the simple act of Living With an Illness. Going up and down stairs is not fun for me in the least, and yes, person watching me hit the elevator button, I am going to elect to use it to go up one floor despite appearing young enough to not need to. 

People love to judge with the eyes. 

This is where I roll mine. 

There are the times when you’re asymptomatic, or in a flare up (affectionately misspelled during my times as Flair Ups, which sound so much more fun, don’t they? Also, there is no spell check on my cell phone and computers usually make me sick when rolling with the waves of pain) when all I want to do is crawl under my covers and die — I’ve been known to punch my legs (the main source of nighttime OMG Kill Me times), pull out hair, slam my fists into the mattress, and so on. When all I can do is sit on the couch or lay in bed, caught between asleep and awake, unable to fully commit to either. 

And even on good days, like today, where I managed to run a few errands, play with paint a bit, and smile more often than not, I come home to rest my body because it simply doesn’t want to move anymore. Like it’s given up on it’s one and only job. Get it together, body! 

How many times have I berated myself for not getting much done in a day? How many times have I gone to sleep feeling guilty because I only managed to cross one or two things off my to-do list? 

When I go back to examine what I did that day, I see large holes of time used for what? Nothing? Rest? An impromptu Netflix-induced television marathon? I beat myself up even more for this unaccounted for time in my day, feeling it could have been put to better use. 

But if I really look at it, I was probably spending a lot of time busy Being Sick. 

Read that again. Go on. 

I never really considered Being Sick as busy or something requiring more of my time. I’ve often fought against my limits, measuring my output to that of others who are Not Sick, striving to achieve more if only to prove my worth to society. Shifting self-care from the Indulgent column to the Work column doesn’t change the inherent facts of the case, simply allows for a bit more slack to be thrown my way when things haven’t gotten done and I’m still in my pajamas at 8pm, having watched four episodes of “Hoarders” as a way to tell myself my apartment doesn’t really need to be cleaned. 

In fact, re-organizing Being Sick to something you can possibly be busy doing gives it the proper time it requires in a daily schedule to stave off those asymptomatic times. Ask a bunch of us, and we’ll tell you of times we’ve bounced back a little too quickly simply because we were feeling a bit like complainers. 

Which is my cue to stop typing this essay and get back to reading, as I only just removed my wrist brace and typing 1200 words was probably a bit too much, too fast. 

I’ll be busy Mending tomorrow, and that’s a hard job all by itself. 

Getting Ready to Dazzle with Magic

I’ve sat down to write a blog post a few times this week. 

And haven’t posted any of them. 

Ever since my experiment in staying off the internet for a week, I’ve found myself less and less drawn to the computer and the internet. Instead, I paint, draw, experiment, and create. There are notes for projects scattered all over the place, plans being drawn up, ideas being nurtured before being shared with the world. 

So many of you wrote, on the last post, that you, too, get sucked into the internet. In chatting with students at my live events, I’ve heard that many go to blogs to be inspired, and spend so much time doing so, you’re not doing any art of your own. I challenge you to do a day without the internet. I know when you’re creating, and you get stuck, you jump online to find something inspiring to get you over that hill of Resistance. I encourage you not to. Instead, get a snack, talk with a friend, take a walk, and then come back to your piece. Get over that hill yourself, with your own ideas, style, and approach. That, in a nutshell, is innovation.

 

Yesterday, as I drove home after a hectic, frustrating, hour-long-omg! visit to the DMV, an idea popped into my head. An idea so strong and so vivid, I frantically searched for my phone and called someone I know is supportive, amazing, and would give it to me straight. 

So as I drove home, I spilled the idea out to Roben-Marie, gesturing with my free hand when I could (stoplights only, please!), smiling so wide, I thought my face may split. And at the end, I said:

“I just had to get it out. I had to share it with someone else. Have you ever had an idea hit you so strongly like that?” 

And she has. Just look at all the plates she has in the air (I cannot recommend her shop and classes enough, but I’m biased! We met when I interviewed her for my still-on-hiatus ‘zine, an interview I had to do because I love her art so much!). 

She was everything I needed. A sounding board. A friendly ear. And she was just as excited as I was, by the end of the call (in fact, I have a text from her this morning asking how things are going!). 

We all need friends like this in our lives. A friend we can call out of the blue who will listen to our ideas, help us narrow them down, and give the pros and cons, if need be. I’m sure if my idea had been one that wouldn’t have worked out, Roben would have told me, then helped me reshape it into something that would. Find a friend like this — a sister, a mother, a childhood pal — and let them hear your ideas, no matter how crazy they may seem. Sometimes, crazier really is better!

 

But I’m moving slow. This isn’t out of fear. In Reverb, by Gwen Bell says:

“If there was ever a time to slow down and stay focused on just one element of the business at a time, this is it. Practice mindfulness, simply staying present in the moment. Trust that all is unfolding as it should.”

(She is another amazing woman I wholeheartedly recommend. You can sign up for her daily newsletter here. It’s worth taking the time to sign up and read, for a few minutes, every day.)

 

That’s what I’m doing. A few things a day. Writing the ideas that come down on notecards or in my binder. Spending time refining my art and learning new things (you have no idea how much taking a simple drawing class has changed my approach to art and improved my flow. If you can take one at a local community college, do it.) . 

 

A huge part of it is Born Brave. I’m hoping to start the new YouTube channel this week, or the beginning of next week. Speaking to artists and journalers with chronic illnesses is so important to me, I’m betting half the bank on this new project.  

The other half is being bet on a Ning. I announced this yesterday via Facebook, but have learned that you may not see all of my posts over there unless you visit my page (I’m learning new things about social media and marketing every day!). There is so much I want to create over there, just for you, that I’m going all in. 

My chips are on the table. I have enough meds for two months. My bills are paid. And while it’s scary in the OMG-my-stomach-is-in-knots-and-my-skin-is-tingling way, I’m still going for it. 

I’m working behind the curtains like the Wizard of Oz, getting ready to dazzle you with magic.

Creating in your art journal on those kind of days...

Yesterday, Cassandra wrote:

The last few days, I've been hit with a serious wave of weakness and fatigue to the point where getting dressed is a major accomplishment-- but I'm not sleepy. Getting chores done is nigh impossible, and I'd rather not turn my brain to complete mush via computer and tv. I know you've had "fibro days" that are at least somewhat similar, and your art journaling arose from those. I was wondering if you would be willing to put together a post on getting through sick days with the help of art-- what sort of things work best from the couch and such.

While I’ve written about my armchair art box before, I wanted to write about something a bit less involved than that overfull shoebox. I’ve been working out of a smaller box myself, as long days make for tired nights. Simple is best. So here’s a little overview of my current armchair box and a few pages I’ve done in the past few days. 

 

Waterbrushes are a sick girl’s best friend. They allow you to put down color without needing a cup of water next to you or messy brushes. I totally recommend grabbing one of the nicer ones you can get in the embossing/stamping/Tim Holtz section of your local hobby shop, as you really do get what you pay for. 

Pair one with pan watercolors, tube watercolors with a little palette, or watercolor pencils for instant color with little mess. I have dogs that like to jump after shiny things, so a cup of water isn’t the best idea. Also, watercolors are forgiving — let some dry on your palette and re-activate them later on! Curl up and doodle or simply spread around color! 

Smaller scraps you’ve collected in the studio, rub-ons, and photographs are easy page kits for when you just want to tape bits down and do a bit of collage. 

Markers are a nice alternative to watercolors if you want to do some doodling but don’t want to get out the water or any paint. I have a few Pitt brush markers, Marvy fabric markers, and Sharpie pens to color with, but have also pulled out Copics or colored pencils. 

Gel pens & multiliners are great for doodles to be colored later. White pens are great for adding embellishment to previously-finished pages. 

A small pair of scissors and double-sided tape are a must for any sick day art!

Here are some tips for working in your journal when you’re sick but need something to do. 

 

1. Practice lettering. This bit of journaling took me 45 minutes and kept my attention. Write the words with a marker first, then outline them. The first loosens you up, the second takes a bit of easy concentration. You can easily fill a page with this. Pair it with a photo, and you’ve got a nice looking page that allows expression without taking too much energy. 

 

2. Doodle. I recently started doodling with my waterbrush & watercolors, and have had a ton of fun with very little in the way of supplies. Use markers, or even a pencil, to doodle across a journal page. There is so much for you to discover by way of doodling, you shouldn’t discount it (I recently bough Stephanie Corfee’s book Creative Doodling and Beyond, which is full of amazing doodling prompts that can be done right in the book).

An alternative to this is zentangles. Oh, zentangles, how I love you so…

3. Give a page a colorful wash. You can use watercolors or colored pencils to spread color around doodled elements or words you’ve written across your page to pull everything together. Spread several colors around and then doodle on top of them, make fun frames for photos, or tint some of your found papers to make bright elements to collage onto the page.  

4. Be okay with less. When it comes down to it, a journal page created while sick isn’t going to measure up to one you work on in your studio with all your supplies. And that’s okay. Not every page needs to be full of color and collage and cool techniques. Allow yourself to have fun with the simple processes that come with doing less; get lost outlining a favorite quote, spend hours blending colored pencil colors, allow yourself time to refine your doodles. 

You may feel too tired or sick to do any art, or feel that whatever you make while curled up under a blanket isn’t good; it is. You’re working from a different place, one that is less flashy and bold, but no less important to investigate. All the little things can give way to discoveries that may, down the road, change and shift the art you create when you’re feeling better. Give yourself a break, get a mug of tea, and show your journal some love. 

I'm off to bed, as I'm teaching my first class here in Arizona tomorrow afternoon and want to make sure I'm well-rested for my students. There's still time to join us (just email me if you do call and sign up so I can make sure to bring enough supplies!). 

The Wonders of Internet Detox

I’ve been trying to write a blog post since Saturday. 

One is halfway finished, the other, nearly done. Both need a little more love & attention to become fully-formed posts, but life changes so fast that many of the ideas in one are no longer applicable. I have a list of posts here in my March Scrivener file, just haven’t had the time to finish them! 

Things have been trés busy here in the closet studio. Saturday marked my first in-person event since moving to Phoenix (it went fabulously; I’ll post about it tomorrow). This week has been spent working on a series of work for a magazine article that was, well, a transformative process that I can’t wait to share with you. Seriously! I was in the studio until 1:30am working on things, and tomorrow, I’ll be back in there painting up a storm! 

But last week was spent offline. 

Like many of you, I love going online. Even past my secret fangirl side, I love catching up with people on Facebook, reading anecdotes on Twitter, and browsing blogs and photo sites for inspiration. Art cannot exist in a vacuum, and in this technological age, the internet has replaced a trip to the museum or local cafe when it comes to expanding your horizons. 

For someone who earns her living largely via the ‘net, it can be a bit overwhelming. In order to get my message out there and find my audience, I need to stay on top of not only social media, but my blog and videos for YouTube. There’s information coming in at me from all over the place, and I find myself working at a near-frantic pace trying to keep up.

But last week, it came to a head. I simply could not take another minute. Every time I signed on, my stomach would get upset, my head would pound, and my heart would start to race. There was just too much and I was spending more time frustrated and angry on the computer than actually creating any art. 

 

So I took the drastic measure of cutting myself off from the computer/internet for an entire week. 

I allowed myself to stay in contact via my phone, but it takes forever to load things (when compared to my blazing-fast internet on the computer) and doesn’t display some things properly; I’d check in a few times a day, but rarely replied to emails or comments on my status. Instead of sitting on my laptop while watching TV, I’d simply watch TV. 

You’d think this would lead to uber-production of artsy stuff, but that didn’t happen, not at first. I tore apart my studio and began weeding out old supplies I’d never use and organizing everything (it lasted a few days; it’s a mess again!). Everything was spread out across the floor in tiny piles that made sense to no one but me. I watched a lot of movies. I simply allowed myself to relax & breathe. 

I felt my stress melting away. 

Without the pressures of the internet on my shoulders, I could relax. Even if I wasn’t doing anything productive, I was still happy.  

But then the magic started to happen. 

I headed off to a spontaneous dinner with my mother. Went on an adventure that ended up with a little gift for someone and some glittery pens for me. Did a demo and met so many new people. Cleaning out my studio opened my space — both physical and mental — made room for a new wave of creativity that’s still spilling out. 

I found that, by making more room in my life by saying NO to checking Facebook all the time, wandering blogs, and reading tweets, the more that time was filled with genuine experiences rather than the experience of reading about others’ lives. I suddenly had things worthy of putting in a status update, but found I’d rather remain engaged in such activities than pull out my phone to update social media.  

In creating a vacuum in my daily life, I was forced to start engaging the world rather than watch it pass by outside my window.  

My “break” ended on Tuesday, but I’ve found the habits from my time offline have spilled over. I don’t like spending as much time online since I now know all I can accomplish when I shut my laptop or turn off my wireless card. I used to think I went online to distract me when I get the most fatigued, but there’s so much more I can do even when very, very tired (I’ll be writing about my new coping techniques very soon, at Cassandra’s request!).  

Now, the only stress on my shoulders is my over-full inbox, but being able to focus better — and answer things while not connected — means it should be cleared out faster. I’m no longer struggling to tread water; I’ve grown stronger through taking a simple, little break.