There are many things I should blog about, like the ten yards of fabric that came to my door on winning the Nature's Best contest, THANKS to you! Or the fabulous review of my book in Machine Quilting Unlimited, or the fantastic blog I found this week.
But instead I want to talk about the Recycled Journals I am now in love with. Have I talked about this too much already? I used some original pages from the book, Dreams their Meaning and Significance and layered them into signatures of 140 pound cold press Fabriano watercolor paper. See the texture? I could bite my tongue.
I already, sort of, messed the book up. I have to learn about end paper. I think they need to be stiffer than the paper I chose. And because I chose a paper that was floppy, I tried to substantiate it by painting the wrong side with white, panicked, glued something on top, panicked and well, you get the gist of it. Now the end paper in the front of the book is glued to the first page. Covered that one right up. It isn't that bad, a little odd, but. So am I (I was giggling through the writing of that last paragraph- it is good not to take self too srsly).
Have I said how much I love 140 pound watercolor paper? I learned to love it in school, Fabriano in particular. The brushes, the paint, the way the water lays atop the page ready to be reworked until it isn't anymore? Totally different than painting on cloth, but still such satisfaction.
And we all know how much I love to draw and wish that every person who had an inkling of even wanting to draw would start now. Right now. It is so graceful, paper and pencil, that it all you need. Painting is just an extension of drawing. And every artist, even if they don't use every tool in the box should have an understanding of the basics. It is so meditative.
I wish my first journals were available to me now, (they are in storage). I would show you. I sucked. We all suck when we start out, that is the way it is. I still have a ways to go, I want to learn to have ease with hands and feet, for instance. But when you are new, just tell yourself to turn the page and don't look back. Not right away, anyway. Now I can look back as some of my early journals and see the raw beauty and the gems among the mundane. See where I was stretching to see myself further, trying. For the most part, I love the progress I have made. But I do see it as a journey, not a destination.
Arrow, beautiful, white and black Arrow. Head tucked, smiling. He knew I was looking at him and kept murping and coming to attention and asking me to pet him.