I have been beguiled by the existence of Art Journals lately. So beguiled, in fact, that I have spend several hours watching tutorials and looking at pages that other people have shared. So beguiled that I went to the big city and bought a bunch of materials, and have begun playing in my own journal.
I’m not sure that I am a “paint” person. It seems like all these folks are painting their pages with great abandon, and paint as a medium frustrates me. But I am experimenting with it anyway. I may stop using it altogether, but for now I think I must fool around with it enough to feel comfortable with it before I reject it out of hand.
Anyway, here are two pages that I made this week. Both of them were intended to be full width spreads incorporating both sides of the journal. This has brought me to the realization that the next journal I buy will not be a spiral bound one as the spiral tends to cramp the flow of imagery for me; a throwback to the days when you were supposed to “stay in the lines” when you were coloring.
So here is the first one I did. It goes with this poem, which I wrote a while ago and which I am not certain I am finished with.
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Dances with Sheets
On a gale-y day
I hang wet sheets to dry under the arms of the spiral galaxy
The wind seduces me with an invitation to the Universal Dance
Lilac permeates the gust that fills the billowing lengths of cotton whipping in the wind
My fingers cling to the fabric, challenged by the power of the atmosphere tugging me East
I watch energies
Trapped in the web
Tear free and ride the west wind streaming shrapnel sparks behind them
illness
a broken dream
four fast weddings rued
sudden death
Wind chimes chatter clatter rattle
Plum trees toss in silent waves in the background
The next sheet blows to life in my hads
Animated by the winds
Another ghost rides the cosmic wind into the dust the permeates the world
We are the comets
We breath their atoms
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When I stepped back from this page (these pages?) I discovered my Gemini nature had asserted myself. A clear dichotomy shows up in this spread even though it was supposed to flow from left to right. Perhaps my left-brain/right-brain war is evident here.
The second image was inspired by the dog walks through the woods at dawn, when the air is laden with hundreds of bird calls. As I walk the path I find myself walking through invisible patches of scent wafting along in the morning breeze, coming from the spring flowers blooming — calling all pollinators.
I like this image better in person. The glitter on the pieces of bird songs does not come across on the computer.
So, I wonder what will occur to me next?
I turn the page. . . it is blank. . . for now. . .
