There was an art supply store that my dad used to take me to when I was little. It was an amazing place on Rampart Boulevard! I don’t know why we went there or how many times we went, but I clearly remember the place: brown, older, and high-class looking (for my 10-year-old eyes, at least, lol).
What I now know are called easels, were made of wood with gold hardware. So was the rest of the store, with each of its wood elements a different tone and shade of brown. Long brushes stuck out from holes in slanted wood bases, out of my reach both physically and figuratively. The deep red carpet said nothing as official artist-looking men walked confidently to whatever section they needed to go to, and I walked from aisle to aisle alone, wishing I could have a brush.
In the meantime, my dad was at the counter doing whatever he was there to do. Then he’d join me and look at the art supplies too. After all, he was the one who taught me how to draw–televisions, baskets of flowers, dogs, and cats. Whatever we were there to do, it doesn’t matter because we always left the same way we came in—without art supplies.
Finally getting around to buying art supplies…
I share this story because it seems to represent that feeling that happens to many of us who are very much attracted to art and creativity but don’t dare to call ourselves artists. I was in my mid-30s when I finally built up the courage to buy a paintbrush. Before this, I had been scrapbooking as a creative outlet, it seemed more like a more realistic art form, something with an “actual” purpose. I don’t regret it, of course, because from that outlet came each of my kids’ albums, which they love, but something in me wanted to get messier. I felt a need to express, to do, to have my hands move.
Bless YouTube and all the people who go on there to teach because it was thanks to them that I learned about art journaling and how accessible it was (one of my current favorites is for watercoloring is Kristy Rice). This was when I finally bought art supplies at my local Joann, a store that was of course nothing like that art supply store on Rampart Boulevard with its serious official feel, and which I loved by the way, even if it felt foreign.
To the contrary, Joann, the a huge box store was a place for anybody, adults and children, which meant nobody would notice me (because I thought everyone would be looking, thinking who does she think she is buying a paintbrush?! Crazy, I know, but it’s what I thought). It also helped that I was already comfortable going in there because of the past three years or so going in there to buy scrapbooking supplies.
So, what is an art journal?
Simply, it’s a notebook in which to do whatever art practice you want: writing, drawing, painting, doodling, etc. And in any medium of your choice: watercolor, acrylic, oil, pastel, color pencil, ink, etc. You can also use paper, pictures, magazine cutouts, etc., etc., etc. I think it’s because of this that art journaling feels so freeing–it takes what we know as art, like The Starry Night, The Mona Lisa, and American Gothic, and transforms it into something more accessible, more doable, more within reach.
What it might look like in the beginning…
You can see they’re not pieces you’d find in an art museum—or even an art store, haha—but they’re still art. More importantly, they remind me that I had the courage to buy art supplies and create, even when my thoughts told me not to.
You can’t fear art if you shrink it…
Get a notebook, a coloring medium, Crayolas maybe, and scribble something, then call this your art journal. Then, when you feel ready, get a set of markers, and on you go.
I hope that this post encouraged you to start painting, drawing, writing, or even doodling.
Currently on IG…
In last week’s post, I shared the IG pictures of my walks. This week, on IG, I still shared about my walks, but this time I sketched some of my pictures. Next week, the zine-making process begins, and I’m so excited.
