I first came across art journaling around ten years ago. Full of excitement and enthusiasm I bought books, blank journals, paints… And then I waited on the sidelines. I was in awe of art journals shared online. I saw a stunning page and bought the stencil, stamp or paint that seemed to have been instrumental in making it. And then I waited again. Looking at videos and photos of other people’s creations without the heart to start.
Excuses were easy to come by:
- I worked full time and didn’t have enough free, uninterrupted time to begin a page.
- I didn’t have the right space. I needed a studio or at least a very large table where I could be messy and leave projects out for days.
- I wasn’t good at drawing and I needed to be able to draw faces before filling an art journal.
- Whatever I was going to produce wouldn’t be as good as what others were making.
- Whatever I was going to create wouldn’t be original.
All the books and YouTube clips were paralyzing. There was so much inspiration online – it was easy to keep myself busy on the sidelines. It was easy to give into my fear, and my inner critic’s voice of telling me to not even try. All our beliefs of ‘not good enough’ and ‘done before’ are in the end fear based. Our excuses of time and space are rationalisations to give into our fear. (Sidenote: some of the time/space stuff is of course real, but we could make time and space if only our fears were less overwhelming…) But: fear is good, generally. It keeps us safe and makes us proceed with caution. But our fear response has a tendency to overreact, just in case… and it tries to keep us safe from such low risk activities like putting some paint on a journal page. But it isn’t the paint application our fear tries to protect us from. It is the vulnerability that comes with any creative act. Even if we have no intention of sharing our creation. Even though we could throw it if we dislike it. But somewhere deep down we know that we become visible when we create, and without the certainty of a successful outcome this can be difficult to bear.
Finally, after years of ramping up, I started my first creative journal in winter 2015. What was the catalyst? I had been through a pretty tough time in life with lots of challenges and uncertainty. I faced the self-doubt and deep thoughts such challenges prompt in us. It was the start of winter here in Melbourne with shorter days and cold weekends that called for indoor play. I still needed the impetus of a final art material shopping expedition, but then I finally got started. Because I had plenty of uncertainty in my life already, and worries and fear. And suddenly, the fear of starting on my first creative journal felt trivial.
And I haven’t stopped. I go through phases when I add daily to my creative journal. There are times when other projects occupy me. But it is the one creative practice I return to without fail. I love looking through journals and remembering what inspired a certain page. I love seeing how my style has developed. Yes, some of my early pages might make me cringe, but they were the stepping stones to something that keeps me sane, fills me up and is a rich source of insights about myself. I’m still not that good at drawing faces, but I’ve learned some tricks. I’m still dreaming of the perfect studio space, but my journaling supplies move through the house like a wandering dune. I still see journals I love and have moments of feeling less talented. But I’m filling my journals.
And on that last excuse that my journals wouldn’t be original… I wish I could say this thought has been dealt with by beginning my journaling practice. But far from! Instead it shows up more often than ever before, the side effect of a creative career I suppose. And when it does I channel Elizabeth Gilbert:
Considering how much time I needed to get started I’ve created a 5-week workshop series on Creative Journaling. My hope is that this can be an accelerator for anyone who wants to make time for creative self-exploration but doesn’t know where and how to start. I really believe in a learning by doing approach. I also hope it is a space to enjoy the momentum and support gained through working in a group. And just because it’s winter… and really cold here… it could be a wonderful opportunity for reflecting and recharging.
Find out more about my work at Sensemaking Space