Keeping a journal
is an activity that many books on creativity encourage. They are usually written on a daily basis but I prefer not to stress myself
out with the process. If I don't feel like journaling for a while I don't worry about it because at other times, I can go like gang busters for months, even years! I find that I
generate more ideas if I keep a combo version of a diary that includes not only words but images as well.
A line, colour, shape can enhance or destroy the
pristine beauty of the blank page. I have amassed various methods to move
beyond the initial hurdle.
This particular journal did not begin as a precious new sketchbook. Rather, it was a hard cover log that belonged to my father. In it he kept accounts of
a house that he had sold. Strangely, and for reasons known only to him, his
entries were not on the first page of the book. He chose an arbitrary page. I
decided to pursue his approach and avoid a chronological journal. Dates are not
sequential, a 2011 entry can appear before one dated
2005.
My journal is not a thing of beauty, it's old, worn, bashed, battered and bruised.
Before I began to write and draw, I performed a preliminary ritual. I soaked part of it in water then left it to dry so a few pages would curl. I threw it in snow, stained it with coffee, tea, paint; walked on it, dipped it in mud, scratched it, tore it, and partially burned a page or two. I glued things inside such as articles from newspapers, pictures, or bizarre doodles that mysteriously surfaced as I talked on the phone.
Once I had something with spirit, I began to experiment, record feelings, actual events or impressions using either markers, paints (acrylic or watercolour), ink, pen, pencils, whatever I happened to have at hand!
One of the wonderful things about the paper in this journal is that whatever I produce often bleeds on the reverse side. New images evolve from what seeps through. These are definitely gifts from the deities.
Before I began to write and draw, I performed a preliminary ritual. I soaked part of it in water then left it to dry so a few pages would curl. I threw it in snow, stained it with coffee, tea, paint; walked on it, dipped it in mud, scratched it, tore it, and partially burned a page or two. I glued things inside such as articles from newspapers, pictures, or bizarre doodles that mysteriously surfaced as I talked on the phone.
Once I had something with spirit, I began to experiment, record feelings, actual events or impressions using either markers, paints (acrylic or watercolour), ink, pen, pencils, whatever I happened to have at hand! 
One of the wonderful things about the paper in this journal is that whatever I produce often bleeds on the reverse side. New images evolve from what seeps through. These are definitely gifts from the deities.
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