Keeping A Visual Journal: One Way to Work

I am a journal-keeper. For years I have amassed a growing collection of black, 5″x8″ unlined Moleskine notebooks, the very sight of which fill me with an inexplicable sense of calm and contentment. Like most journal keepers, I turn to my small black books to scribble out my woes, my prayers, my joys and my questions. I copy out quotes that I like, or take notes on the books I am reading. I sometimes jot down the name of the plumber I need to call or a quick To Do list, but mostly it’s filled with the stuff of my thoughts.

For the past couple of years, I have also tried to keep a visual journal, or art journal. Its purpose is much the same as my beloved black books–to get my thoughts out of my head–but the emphasis is on exploring the non-verbal parts of my beliefs. It is another form of listening. As Kelly Brown says in her inspiring blog Art Journaling as a Creative Process:

Art journaling is about expression, both written and visual, of emotions and thoughts; it is a space for questions that may not have answers, a place for thoughts that may otherwise not have a home, a safe container for emotions so that they do not have to be loose in the world. Although the journal can become an extension of the self, it can also be a place to play and experiment with art materials.

Over the years, however, I have noticed that however easy it is for me to pull out my Moleskine journals and dig right in, when it comes to painting or drawing or scribbling I am–to use a term from Brown’s blog–”art-shy.” I feel reluctant to start.

I once had coffee with an old friend, an artist and art teacher, who pulled a paintbrush out of her purse, dipped it in her coffee cup, and painted a landscape on her place mat. I am envious (and, truth be told, a little bit angry) when I find myself around people who can create on whim. Sadly, I am not one of them.

It’s completely possible that gifted artists have already put in so much time and effort that they have formed a habit of creative productivity. But that doesn’t truly help me, a part-time artist, who aspires to use art as a form of play, and  to help me think. Until I can build up the habit, it’s helpful to have a few guidelines to get me going.

To that end, I decided to document one of my art journal projects and offer it as an example of one way to create an art journal page. It is certainly not the only way, or the best way. It’s just one way. Maybe it will help someone else find a way in to work.

Step One:  The Journal

My art journal is an inexpensive spiral bound notebook I picked up at an art supply store. It is 9″x12″, small enough I can throw it in my briefcase on trips, but big enough to give me space to work. I like the spiral binding because I can glue smaller pieces onto my journal pages.

Step Two: Choosing an Intention

When I am  about to work on anything, it helps to have an idea of why I’m doing it. For this project, I was thinking the question “What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?”  I don’t have the answer to the question when I start. I don’t even want to verbalize an answer. I’m anxious to see what the non-verbal part of me knows.

Step Three: Collecting Images

I love working in collage. Collage is quick, easy, and you don’t have to know how to draw!  For this project, I quickly created a pile of tissue paper, cut-out words, scraps of things with different textures, colors and shapes that caught my eye.

Step Four: Covering the Blank Space

My “canvas” is a 5″x7″ piece of watercolor paper, chosen because it is small enough not to intimidate me. However, very little is as terrifying to me as a blank space, and I know enough about myself to know that I need to cover up that space as quickly as possible. I selected a few of the larger images and pieces of paper and glued them down quickly with acrylic medium, just to cover most of the white. You could also use Mod Podge, or even glue. You don’t have to cover all of the white–white invites opportunity–but enough that it feels like it has some form and structure.

Step Five: Creating a Base

You could skip this next step if you’d like, but for some reason I like the idea of painting a light wash of color over the base images. It provides a background, a deeper layer, that the newer images can rest on. I watered down some fluid acrylic paint in Titanium White with an acrylic medium and painted a thin layer over the entire canvas.

Step Six: Playing with Images

This is the fun part. After the white wash was mostly dry, I worked with some of the other images I’d selected, playing with different arrangements on the canvas. I decided that canvas actually worked better vertically. I was drawn to the words I’d cut out that said “What Do I Do?” but decided I wanted to cut the words apart and rearrange them. Eventually I reached a place where I was satisfied with the arrangement. I still didn’t really understand what it all meant, but I was ready to move on.

Step Seven: Final Layer

Although I could have stopped there , I have found that applying another wash over the top of the images helps tie things together. Plus, it allows me to play with paint, which in my opinion is always a good thing. I chose to add thin layers of fluid acrylics (Burnt Sienna and Yellow Oxide) to different parts of the piece. If I didn’t particularly like what I’d painted, I wiped it off and tried again.

Step Eight: Responding to Art

I glued the piece into my art journal. Over it I wrote the date and the prompt I was using. If you do nothing else, record these few details. If you want to go further, spend some time writing your response to the art. What jumps out at you? What do the different elements say to you? Why were those colors important.

For my piece, I wrote pages and pages, and although I won’t share all of what I learned, there were a couple of interesting details that jumped out. First was that I’d included a calendar. I couldn’t figure out how to make it fit until I tore it into pieces, reassembled it and glued it down. The meaning? I need to stop forcing my work to a timeline. I need to focus on smaller pieces, and to stop being impatient for seeing how it will all turn out. The other thing I learned was the most obvious. What would I do if I knew I could not fail? I would “Do What I Do.”  This reminds me that I’m on the right path. I don’t need to change course–get my pilot’s license or go on safari or take up golf. I can keep doing what I’m doing.

That, for me, was good news. I suppose I knew a version of that before I started making art, but it was nice to have the confirmation.

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