Visual journaling in community is always time well spent.
Even if it’s their first rodeo, to witness the freedom, the mess, the expansion as paint meets paper meets card. Bliss. Magic. A gift.
Walking out with their own visual journals clutched close to their chests, promising to carry on the practice themselves, now they’ve got the power within their hands, hearts and soul.
A job well done any time the visual journaling practice is passed on.
I do believe it makes us better human beings. Better to each other and ourselves. Softer, caring and well-nourished.
This is one of my favourite images from my extensive collection.
I know exactly when and where it was taken. Westfjords Residency, Iceland, Feb/March 2017.
This was my go to breakfast. Coffee, cornflakes and Skyr, Icelandic protein enriched yogurt. I love the colours, the composition. The items included. But most of all, I love the memories and feelings just looking at this image evokes.
It takes me back to that time of wonder and discovery during my second time to Iceland. A residency I gifted to myself, writing the application while teaching temporally; frustrated, longing to get out and create.
I stayed for two weeks in the shadows of the mountains, knee deep in snow most days until the thaw came with some greening of the landscape.
I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing there back then. I just knew in my body that I needed to get away, gain inspiration from the landscape and {BE}.
I might not have completed much when I was out there, but I know when I returned the experience shifted my creativity and how I saw myself as a creative.
I saw glimmers of the Northern Lights during this retreat. Pale creamy wisps and trails in a dark navy sky. It was magical and a mystery.
This makes me think about my art-making practice and how most of the time I’m working in the dark, moving out of my comfort zone into the unknown, looking and listening hoping to catch a glimpses of magic and mystery in the process.
What’s created on the page, like this photography, is an archive, a record which when looked upon brings to the surface all the memories and feelings of the process, the experience once again experienced to the full with wonder and a smile.
I don’t know if I expressed it openly but I’ve been trying to post every day here in honour of a practice from years ago of being creative every day.
This last week, home alone and probably depressed, I’ve been beating myself up for not doing more. More out in society as well as within my own practice. I’ve been on a rollercoaster of emotions and I’ve not been kind towards myself.
Coming out the other end though I can see that I’ve been doing what I’ve needed. Rest yes but also quiet, small magic.
I’ve been collecting brown paper from packages. I thought I’d use them within the creative retreats I facilitated this year but it didn’t happen. So I have a very large pile and what I love about the brown paper apart from the sound and texture is the un/uniformativity of it.
These papers are teared to fuck. Fragile and worn and rough. And I love feeling them. So this week, I might not have been posting here but my sitting room became a factory conveyer belt as brown paper got the credit card treatment of smeared paints. Acrylic paints that I’m using up that I love the mixtures of, that gets under my nails and onto the carpet. And I love it. One side wait to dry and then the next and then let’s fold and put these single sheets together to make a whole
This practice has made me whole again this week. I’ve been writing within this new journal this past couple of days and I feel so good to be doing so. Better.
I’m grateful to wake up each morning and {BE}. I’m grateful that I’m no longer chasing recognition and the big bucks. I’m grateful that I don’t give a fuck about being perfect and always having to smile.
I’m grateful for the community I have around me. Cultivated over years. They care for me and I care for them.
I’m grateful to myself for never giving up on me and for always having my back even when it feels I’m falling apart. Falling apart but big hands to put me back together again, but better.
Happy New Year! Yes I know January 1st 2024 has come and gone. And yes I know it’s probably well past the time period to be wishing anyone, anywhere a happy new year. But I don’t care. This is when I’m coming back to the website, the blog, the public domain. March 2024.
I didn’t plan it as I didn’t think it would be possible this year what with my commitments all over the place but it does feel like that I’ve been on retreat for the last 3 months; the first 3 months of 2024. What with one thing or another; illness, lack of energy, lack of focus, lack of motivation, I’ve had to just ease myself into this year. And I still don’t feel that I’m fully present to this time period yet, but I’m getting there.
I had to intentionally put this into my to -do list today; to turn up here and write something. There’s been the lack of motivation and energy thing but there’s also been a block, or limitations I’ve been putting on myself in term of creating here or anywhere. I’ve been caught in a loop of asking myself, what have I got to say? What can I say as the world is falling apart? Nothing seemed/seems enough. I wasn’t good enough. So let’s stay hidden and quiet and safe, I convinced myself.
But there is only so long that I can live with myself doing/ being this/that. I was getting comfortable being uncomfortable or getting comfortable in numbing myself to the uncomfortable feelings as a means of getting by and through and over and under. To just breathe.
I return today simply to cross something off my to-do list. But in many ways it is so much more than just that. I’m back, I’m ascending out of the ashes into some kind of flame. Or at least the pilot light is back on in terms of writing/ being here/ turning up.
One thing that has been on a constant burn, a low humming of heat over these last 4 or 5 months has been my visual journaling practice. The image above was created today at my table in the corner of my bedroom where I’ve gotten into the habit of turning up daily just to see what wants to appear. I’ve been listening to the ancestors, the guides who want to speak. I’ve been enjoying the process.
I’ll be sharing some more visual journal spreads in the coming days as well as curating a new portfolio to archive them all in one place as if I don’t archive my creative practice, who else will?
Today I took my time. I had a lie in. Got up grabbed a coffee and went back to bed with my new journal.
There was the bubbling of excitement as well as fear. I’ve been preparing this new journal for the past week and it was time to begin.
I’m reminded of the Henry David Thoreau Quote: “There is no beginning too small.”
So I took my time. Took inspiration from the colours on the page and started mining magazines for images and text. I ripped out whole pages knowing I’d come back in and cut out the details, the inspiration.
I spent about an hour cutting and pasting. Spreading out across the colourful pages.
The last spread of sticking I did in the picture above. Once this was complete, I had to leave it to complete some chores. It was an hour before I returned with another coffee and this time ready to write.
I wrote about beginning again. The newness of a new journal. The possibilities. How my energy needed a shift hence the new journal and starting it this morning as I go on retreat; away from the world to create, to be and to rest.
I thought it fitting that this day should be marked with a new visual journal, with a new beginning as I’m excited about going away and being away from all the distractions and noise and demands which have been dominating my life of late.
I’m grateful for the time, space and means to take off from my life for a week and be inspired within the cradle of mountains.
I do not set out to create anything beautiful with my visual journal practice. The purpose is always to be present within the process. But there are sometimes when I look at a finished pages ( I don’t think it is ever finished as I always return to continue the conversation with myself) and they bring a smile to myself as they stand in for all the emotions and thoughts and dreams that surfaced during the time with the page.
I wonder, and wonder, and wonder what can be explored and shared when I lean into my interdisciplinary practice. I wonder.
It’s the afternoon. And I’ve just finished another visual journaling spread. I might have been up at 7.30 and came to the page but again, remembering yesterday, I’m here to slow down. I’m here to savour these moments of light and joy.
I might have even shifted rooms in the process, moved from the bed to the couch. Exposure to more light and more bird sounds. Seagulls squawking and trees budding casting shadows on the living room floor.
The energies are quickening. There’s a fizzing of excitement in my stomach, my core. Who know’s what the day will bring?
The day has already gifted me time and space and colour and light and an immense feeling of peacefulness. Mindfulness. Kindness. Thank you.
Straight forward writing on lined paper with a sticker here and there. I felt the need to get things out of me. I felt the need to get distractions out of the way and write from the heart.
Each day I turned up and completed three pages of long hand writing. Some days more. There was an outpouring. Leaning back into Julia Cameron’s Morning Pages helped.
This morning, the first day of April, this happened.
Altered book journal spread
My energies shifted. I wasn’t feeling the lined pages, black ink journaling this morning. I was feeling the need to slow down and wait for the paint to dry kind of feeling.
Yes Spring is here. And I’m embarking on a poetry challenge as well as my travels. But my body is saying there is wisdom to be gleamed if you take the time and space, now this morning, to slow down and listen.
So I listened. I have to slow down as I cover one page/ one spread at a time with paint to conceal the text underneath. Maybe still bleeding through in parts.
Altered book journal spreading drying!
While I wait for the paint to dry, I search for inspiration in images and texts. I don’t have any agenda and I don’t feel any frenzied feelings to get this done and done quick.
I’m taking my time because I have time to slow down, breathe, enjoying the grey light, the sweet vanilla latte, the birds making nests.
Thoughts come and go. Fleeting. And I don’t worry. If I need to capture them, they’ll come back around. The hairs on my forearm feel the draught coming in through the open curtains. Or is it from the open window in the kitchen?
My forefinger twists strands of hair into locks as I flick through a magazine, looking for images, text and colour. I take another sip of coffee, now cold because time has been slipping by.
Not away. As time spent in my creative process is time needed not wasted. It’s time I’m grateful for. But I can only mark this time, this gratitude, these feelings and sensations, when I slow down and be present.
Visual journaling, altered book or not, gifts me the luxury, no the necessity, of slowing down and {BEING}. Thank you x
From time to time, I’ve tried to keep a gratitude journal. I’ve read the research and heard the stories about expressing gratitude for your life and what is part of it, here and now. This is a great practice in order to be more present in your life as well as be happier.
I saw expressing gratitude and writing it down as just another thing to add to my to-do list mostly. I resented the time spent on it as as well as beating myself up for the times I missed a day or two. I felt like this was just another indication of me failing.
I think as part of my intentional healing journey of 2023 ( have I talked here about it?) I brought gratitude back into my day, or I’m trying to. Offering myself grace and compassion when there are times I forget to complete it some days, I allowed myself to start small.
Today, I am grateful for …
This is how I start each entry and I allow myself to just mark one thing I’m grateful for. One thing. One sentence. Most days it’s doable. Most days I remember. Some days there’s more than one think, more than one thing to be grateful for. But there are still some days I forget and the days run away from me. But I do not sweat it. I pick it back up when I remember.
I keep this little notebook with the image of Frida Kahlo on my bedside table. I love this little notebook. I love Frida Kahlo but I also love how I feel when I write in this book. I feel better. I feel present. I feel grateful for what I have, how I feel, what I experience. Fostering positive energy for the here and now rather than energy wasted on what I don’t have or want instead.
The research is right. Practicing gratitude does foster appreciation and happiness for the things and people in your life. Now. Simples.
Here are a few gratitude moments captured in this little book of gratitudes from the beginning of the year so far:
Today I am grateful for the reminder that I am loving, loved and loveable.
Today I am grateful for the time and space to create a vision board for the year ahead.
Today I am grateful for my body to be able to walk and get into the sea.
Today I am grateful for my lie in. For rest and sleep.
Today I am grateful for the opportunity to put things right .
Today I am grateful for the connections I am making, with myself and others.
Expect to see more posts about gratitude as I delve deeper into the practice and the effects it is having on my life. What contributions it is making to my healing journey?
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