Hello My Pretty
8×12 print available here

I just started working in a large art journal, and I’m LOVING it. Now the rest of my books feel so small to me. This one measures 21×14 inches when it’s lying open on the table. It’s actually an altered book. I don’t know why I started calling all my books “art journals”, but I’ve put them all under one category, instead of separating them. They’re all the same to me, whether I’m using a brand new book from Blick or a used book from the library. In the end, it’s hard to remember what the book first looked like anyway..was it new or used? I don’t think it’s important.

This one is an old Time Life book, and I left the cover the original title because it makes me stop and think. Life does get the story, doesn’t it? I love the play on words here, now that I’m giving the book a different meaning.

Smile and Permission pages – as I was making these pages, I was flinging pastels, chalk, acrylic paint everywhere. I was in the zone, making art just for me. I didn’t do that for a long time, make art just for myself. I made art only with other people in mind, for the sole purpose of selling it, and I started to feel pretty dead inside after a while. I was detached from my artwork. Painting started to feel like work, the kind of work that makes you dread getting up in the morning.

I spent most of the month of January rediscovering my art journal again, and once I started, I couldn’t stop, and now, I have to make art for myself, nearly every day.

There’s a big difference between doing art for others and doing art for yourself. To be able to let go, and not care, to not have thoughts like, ‘I wonder if this will sell fast.’ or have to worry if anyone will like it. Those kind of thoughts can put a damper on things, and feel stifling. To be able to freely express myself without any care is pure freedom.