Traditional journalling – the outpouring of words and thoughts and the recording of happenings, events and reactions is quite linear: these things occurred, then were recorded; these things were planned and projected, then recorded.
Art journalling is far more holistic. Even the most literal illustrations are cast in the light of the mood, defined by the view of the artist and constricted by the limitations of their style and skill.
And then there’s this whole exploration of the psyche that forms from the deluge of abstraction that some of us create.
Like many other artists who play this game, mine is largely an unplanned stream of consciousness.
As life ebbs and flows there are periods dominated by torrential outbursts of imagery.
I’m driven by a force beyond my thoughts to combine and construct these collections of objects, images and notions. They make no sense at the time and only sometimes later can I pick out an impression of context, a reflection of thought.
Meanwhile, I enjoy the colours and the nonsense. Another metaphor for life.
I’ve got old journals – the ‘dear diary’ variety – dating back over decades. Of no interest to anyone but occasionally me, I see what me-in-the-past was up to on this day however-many years ago.
At art school I began to keep sketchbooks, filled it with thoughts and plans, doodles and scraps. Mainly visual references and test grounds for techniques and materials. And they’re as rich in memories to me as the purely wordy versions that preceded them.
Last year I experimented with Julia Cameron’s morning pagesin an on-again/off-again fashion. Not every morning has the space to accommodate all those words, but a bigger block is that part of me resented the paper it required for long, one-way streams of consciousness that I shouldn’t want to revisit. And the thought of scrawling longhand every last niggle and fuss didn’t sit comfortably either. I get the ‘better out than in’ motive. But I didn’t want to hold volumes of this in my life thought; that seemed to be merely displacing it from my head to another place of permanence.
Three things about things I do in books. Without much connection beyond my voracious consumption of stationery.
Until I read this blog post by Deanna Jinjoe where she speaks of the power of transformation in burying words, thoughts, sentiments into the soul of our art we can transform them into a new beauty.
So the art journal I’m working through now is starting to embody this essence. With traces of the therapeutic brain dumps that keep my mind clear, intertwined with the doodles and splatterings of colour that keep my spirit buoyant.
2015 was tied up in this book, in the rigidity of one page: one week, when some weeks felt empty of expression and some pages felt too small for all that was flooding out of my imagination.
By mid year it had taken on a thick, heavy persona with paint all gooey and chewy and some weeks where no amount of layers would cover up the uncomfortable truths of ugly: a parallel to the world it was illustrating. Something intangibly off. Something meh. Some things I didn’t like, didn’t like confronting, didn’t like to witness. I didn’t want to relive, repeat, or even properly acknowledge.
The book served a purpose: A lesson in being a grown up is knowing when to persevere, and when to stop. I persevered. And when the year was up I was glad the book was full. Finished. Finally time to move on. Onto what next.
What next?
…And then a really long time seemed to pass, and I rested. A really long time that went quickly, and dragged slowly and passed in a flash.
Because Time is Weird like that…
I found myself cutting out shapes from magazine pages, scrap paper and junk mail. Something was stirring, I didn’t know what…
Last week I fell into a new facebook group run by the gorgeously art journallyOrly Avineri. It was the catalyst I needed to jump into this new book.
I’ve got gesso under my nails and ink on my face again.
I feel like I’ve come home!
This book is different, there are no limitations and no rules.
Free to fly in and out, land a while –
‘Take a closer look’ – the serendipity of the cut up.
– chat with my thoughts, flit off again.
It takes as long as it takes.
I’m getting more and more aware that by pouring out my unconscious I can steer myself through this life in a fashion not like anything else.
It’s a compulsion.
You get this too, right?
Everything that was feeling stale and sludgy has dropped away since just this first page.
Life feels like spring time: new pages are beginning to blossom.
YesterpostI shared an exploration into the evolution of an abstract photo. If you liked that, you might like this too: My regular post on Dirty Footprints Studio gives a bit of insight into the process of gathering these images.
Cooking dinner one evening last week, waiting for the pot to boil:
The condensation forming on the lid was developing into this fabulous leopardskin effect. Too good to miss. I love the ephemeral beauty in the everyday. It’s everywhere, once you start to look.
So I took this photo and shared it on social media in the circles who see abstract art more than the crazed doings of some weirdo who takes photos of her dinner before it’s even made 😉
And it made me think.
How far can I chase this one idea?
Where could it go?
How far can it evolve?
So today (following the theme – waiting for dinner to cook) I tweaked the colour a bit and printed it out.
And then I began to play: Doodles, re-photographed… leopard spots are evolving into seashells…
more doodles, different camera angle, slight colour tweaks…
more doodles, new camera angle, colours inverted…. I love the way the pen lines seem to sit on top of the photo, they’re in a different dimension of contrast.
Or shape shift: add dimension with concertina folds and photographed from every which way.
I’m sure given more time I could play with light and shadows for more drama. You get the idea, the possibilities go on… I hope this might spark some ideas for you too.
Throughout 2015 I completed a mixed media art journal, one page each week.
Some weeks were easier, some were colourful, some were hard to start and some were hard to finish. Both in terms of the art, and in terms of the weeks out of which the pages emerged.
It’s all metaphors, right?
This year I’m revisiting my year of mixed media, and bringing the pages to life in a different form. Here I was, one year ago:
Starting out here, in January 2015, a blank book (year) ahead – full of possibilities
Week 2 was a big ole brain dump. Funny how this process cements moments into the memory.
I remember listening to podcasts and YouTube things as I doodled this out. Words and phrases filtered through my ears down, out through my drawing hand – sometimes verbatim – sometimes slightly altered by the messages I heard inside the words.
‘Make 2015 the year you question everything’, said the scrap of paper. Glued into my book, glued into my imagination, this phrase was to inform the way the coming months played out. Question Everything.
Week 3: Comfortably into the new year I was setting myself some targets. I achieved the specific ones – way quicker than I expected too. But reflecting from a year further into this life, I see how woolly and unquantifiable some were. Lately I’ve been listening to Leonie Dawson. Do you know her? She’s also loud, smiley, fun and colourful. I like her a lot. She’s big on goal setting. I’m following her wisdom this time round.
Week 4 found time to pause for thought. I was brimming with optimism, which mirrored again this year as a time so rich in potential and beginningness. As much as anything else, I’m getting to know me a while lot better through doing this. Turns out that’s my happy place: just on the cusp of an ending and a beginning. (Oh, and in case you’re wondering – the computer came back in full health – having not forgotten anything).
Week 5 – the cross over from January into February. Another big week. (They’re even bigger looking back – it’s a trick of perspective, maybe).
So as we turn into the next month today, this seems a good point to pause. Part two will follow along soon.
The pictures are fuzzy. They mirror the way I’m fumbling my way into the new year and this new project.
I’m finding my feet.
How do I interpret Self Love?
I’m defining it to myself: until recently I wasn’t aware of it even being a thing in my world. It’s new and a little confusing, I’m taking it on as a project: here in this book, here in my life.
So far, this is what it looks like….
day 1
Starting out with a literal expression of the theme. First thoughts… It turns out 1″ square is both larger and smaller than I expected it to be. I can squish more into the space than expected, also it’s also more squinty to look at and to photograph than I expected.
day 2
I went to see Star Wars this day. It was fab. (Apropos to nothing at all.)
day 3
What’s this? – like a tunnel into the future? IDK. I’m still consumed in confusion from the holidays. It’s still a blur. It’s been a Sunday for a very long time now.
day 4
This was the day I would have gone back to work if I hadn’t spent it flat out on the sofa, back home, recombobulating. I was watching a lot of YouTube. A lot of Kyle Cease. He’s reminding me to re-establish a daily meditation practice. I’m reading Gretchen Rubin’s Happiness Project. She’s reminding me the same.
In terms of the daily practice, I’m beginning to see how the squares can join up to become a bigger picture. I’m beginning to get a grip on things again. Thank fuck for that.
Last year’s book seemed to be full of eyes. (My word for the year was FOCUS, it that kept coming out.) Also my art often has eyes in. So here’s an image who is looking back at us.
day 7
Today I began another year long project. I’m feeling more comfortable with commitment than any time before in my life. (Strewth – I’m not becoming like an actual adult am I?) (NO)
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I hope the first week of the year has been gentle to you, dear friends. I look forward to reading your plans and adventures X
I was telling you yester-post how I’d reached a crossroads in my reimaginings. Here’s the thing:
A thing with which you’ll be familiar if the kind of art you make has the option to re-wind time….
Merrily trotting along to a certain point and Save;
Turn down a figurative side road,
Do more stuff,
Have an adventure.
….Andalso
Be back at that same junction, and go a different route, and have a different adventure – with a whole new cast of characters – and a uniquely new plot.
It’s like choosing between the many-worlds of quantum mechanics.
Now that I’ve dwelt on this a little while I like the idea of a Repeating Five-ness by making each episode of Take Five venture off in Five wildly different outcomes. Yay! Five times the fun!
But I digress. That comes after this:
This is where I’d value your opinion.
I know you’ll understand, as an artist, the hardest part is recognising that final tweak before you call a job jobbed and comfortably move on. Leaving it be. (I thought I was there.)
I really did.
The last change – IDK – do I like V1 or V2? I like them both. Which do I like more? The more I look, the less I know.
So it’s over to you guys…
Version 1:
Version 2:
…and a bit of detail from both. Just in case that helps any.
Please help me choose before monkey-mind talks me into looking for versions 3 through 48. (She’s very persuasive…!)
Y’know how I’ve been revisiting my digital art? I’ve also been rooting through my online galleries. Some of those pieces date back almost a decade, and some still hold up well. But some were looking a bit tired, a bit shabby, or just plain meh. So I archived them away.
I’ve still got most of the images from which they were made, so over the next as-long-as-it-takes I plan to re-photoshop some of them into new works: Hybrids of old and new ideas. I love digital for many reasons – the ability to do this is a big one.
So you can guess the plan from the title, right?
I plan to Take Five images, and frankenstein re-imagine them together into a shiny new beautiful something.
These are the first Five contenders for the project.
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