It is a harsh thing, when a stoic person finally crashes…
It is a harsh thing, when a stoic person finally crashes…
So. Many. Photos.
At 8 x 10, this journal is bigger than any I’ve finished in the past (only as big as 5.5 x 8 until now), and it’s good for me to pay attention to this event…
The oldest date in this journal is 2013, so here we are.
I worked on this during women-only meetings in Imperial County, CA…
….during interminable meetings while working for CDCR…
….while paying attention in library staff meetings, cuz making these keeps me from fidgeting…
….waiting at doctors’ offices…
….not during radiation treatment, tho…
…..in fact, there was a stretch of time…9 months or more….when I made very little art at all…
…and to Oklahoma to see my Bestie…
….trips to trainings and conferences…
…sitting in coffee shops, drinking coffee while pouring myself onto these pages…
…the colors and the textures of the acrylics…
…I could never regret my experiences…
…as the sum of them all makes ME…
…and the time I spend, with a brush, or a pen, or a brush-tipped pen…
…possibly considered to be wasted time by others…
…would…nah…COULD NEVER be thought of that way by me.
The repetitive motion, combined with the creativity inherent in all of this…
…is meditative and grounding for me.
…there is no “purpose” or goal at the end…
…I’m not selling any of the journals I make…
…they are precious to me only…
…I have nobody to will these to…
And after the books are beat to hell in my backpack…
…and I’ve bled all over the pages…
…and written journals from 1985…
…or just to pore over the pages…
…amazed at the things that I have made…
…revelling in my own awesomeness…
…knowing that ANYONE can do this…
…and while anyone CAN do this….
…I am the one who has been making this, this WHOLE time….
…and it turns out that these are all love letters…
…sometimes a collection spot for love from others…
…like this picture that my dear friend, Judy, made to wrap a present she gave to me…
…and how could I not save this forever?
The pages that go here are in process…there is an envelope that needs its inner flap arted…
And then there’s something about my previously mentoned Bestie…
In the end, it doesn’t matter if I tell fiction…
…the important thing is telling the story…
…there are always things to say…
That’s it. That’s the whole thing. The last picture is the back cover…
So, now what am I supposed to do with my life? HAHAHA…