. . . . . . .
Birth of a Daisysmall study for a larger painting
.
I keep an idea journal.
It is a kind of a tear file and visual reminder of things I see in the paper or anywhere that give me any kind of a creative idea or good thought about life in general. I like being kind of messy about what goes in there, just glueing it with the glue stick, not all that carefully.
The purpose of keeping it is for jump-starting myself when I don't know what to work on next. It is still that, but it has also become just for looking at and feeling good.
I began making entries in 2006. My book is small and black, and smudged on the cover. It is warped. I keep cutting off the year from the calendar in my desk drawer and adding that to the front. I usually get around to that in May or so. No rush.
My pages are filled with a collection of pictures of various green items, next to the face of Jesus with black skin, next to the obituary of my favorite high school Spanish teacher. I have quite a few dog pictures in there, and some lakes and kayaks because I might go kayaking someday. It has recipes, paint textures, pictures of rust, and many, many trees and flowers and pathways in the woods. It has sterling silver jewelry, pictures of Santa Fe, and the words of a cancer survivor who said to get up and fix yourself up and proceed as best as you could.
Sometimes when I look at a page I cannot find one single reason why I chose it, and then I wonder what I was thinking about on that day. Usually there is something in there that makes me cry.
This week I have been computer-generating some small working studies as the starting point for large acrylic paintings, so tonight "Birth of a Daisy" goes into my journal too.
It is a kind of a tear file and visual reminder of things I see in the paper or anywhere that give me any kind of a creative idea or good thought about life in general. I like being kind of messy about what goes in there, just glueing it with the glue stick, not all that carefully.
The purpose of keeping it is for jump-starting myself when I don't know what to work on next. It is still that, but it has also become just for looking at and feeling good.
I began making entries in 2006. My book is small and black, and smudged on the cover. It is warped. I keep cutting off the year from the calendar in my desk drawer and adding that to the front. I usually get around to that in May or so. No rush.
My pages are filled with a collection of pictures of various green items, next to the face of Jesus with black skin, next to the obituary of my favorite high school Spanish teacher. I have quite a few dog pictures in there, and some lakes and kayaks because I might go kayaking someday. It has recipes, paint textures, pictures of rust, and many, many trees and flowers and pathways in the woods. It has sterling silver jewelry, pictures of Santa Fe, and the words of a cancer survivor who said to get up and fix yourself up and proceed as best as you could.
Sometimes when I look at a page I cannot find one single reason why I chose it, and then I wonder what I was thinking about on that day. Usually there is something in there that makes me cry.
This week I have been computer-generating some small working studies as the starting point for large acrylic paintings, so tonight "Birth of a Daisy" goes into my journal too.
