As a creative soul, I want and need a place that isn’t public domain (ahem – this blog!) where I can record my interior world without considering the recourse. My journal/sketchbook is a very intimate accessory in my life. I was hesitant to show it to you today. Not just a place where I download ideas via good ole handwriting, it’s also a record of my evolution as a sewer… can I say artist as well? At most given moments, you can find it beside me either in my purse, on my desk or in my hand. I keep it in close proximity just like my grandmother does with her tissues. I’ve had one since I was a teenager and when I look back on old journals, I relive that exact time, remembering where I was, what I was trying to learn and my mentality at the moment.
An artist’s journal is inspiring for two reasons. One, there is no rhyme or reason. With no intended audience, the artist is free to be whatever and whomever. He or she clips, pins, glues, tapes and writes as they please. Unfiltered artwork in that type of setting is fresh, isn’t it? Second to this, journals are a testament to an artist’s devotion. The mere fact that he or she spends time creating something that will never be seen means they care.
It usually takes me a year to fill an entire journal. One giant collage of fabric scraps, clippings I just can’t get enough of, sewing and construction notes for current projects and daily writings, it’s my domain and no one else’s. All me, all mine.
Maybe your domain is a box, a manila folder or your cellphone. Whatever it is, I hope it’s completely yours and keeps you completely sane like mine.