Friday 28 September 2018

Clerical scarves/stoles


I haven't done as many journal pages as usual in the last couple of weeks as I've been working on a gift - some clerical scarves or stoles.

The green one, in liturgical symbolism, stands for ordinary time, which is the time between Pentecost and Advent. It is the day-to-day, ordinary living time. I've decorated the scarf with wheat and fish as a reminder that there is still a harvest to be brought in, even outside of festival times. There are always opportunities even in the everyday business of living.

The purple one is for the seasons of Advent and Lent. Both are times of waiting, the lead time up to major festivals. We know the festivals are coming, but there is a time of preparation beforehand. The alarm clock is a symbol for the waiting. We set the time for the alarm to go off, knowing that we need to be ready by then.




Wednesday 26 September 2018

Fears


Fears hamper us.

They obscure our sight, stopping us from seeing clearly.

They muffle our ears, stopping us from hearing the truth.

They bind our hands, stopping us from doing things.

 They tie our feet, stopping us from moving forward.

Fears can only hamper us.

Let's kick them to the kerb.



Monday 24 September 2018

Feeling adrift


Feeling adrift...

but knowing I'm not.

Tossed on the waves...

but anchored to the rock.

Wednesday 19 September 2018


A cushion is comfortable. Living without one is not.

Discomfort is not fun to live with. Not having a cushion, something to fall back on, makes it feel as if you're living on the edge all the time.

That's where faith comes in.





Monday 17 September 2018

Spilling


There are times when you just have to spill your thoughts out on the page.

It's not always pretty, but it has to be done.





Wednesday 12 September 2018

Breaking boxes


All the different boxes that people try to put us into. Pigeonholing makes us feel safe - we know exactly where we/they fit. We can find eccentric people unsettling because we don't quite know how to label them.

But really we're all bigger than that. Let's refuse to be classifiable. Let's break out of our boxes and be fully ourselves.





Monday 10 September 2018

Fade away


A lot of the time she just wanted to merge into the background.

Any introvert knows that there are times of overwhelm. Times where you just want to fade away and not be noticed for a bit. Times where you just want to close your eyes and imagine yourself elsewhere for a while. When you're in a noisy, busy, people-filled place, fading away for a bit is the only way to survive.

This page had most of the rainbow on it. I liked it, but it wasn't 'saying' anything to me, so it sat for a while. Then I really felt the need to put a face on it. Once the features were on the page, I didn't want to put an outline or hair or anything like that. Stepping back, I could see what the page was about.





Wednesday 5 September 2018

Harvest


What are you harvesting this season?

Autumn is the 'season of mists and mellow fruitfulness'. A lot of harvesting is going on. What are you harvesting from the latest season in your life? Even if it feels as if you have spent a season in the wilderness, dry and thirsty, there will be something you have learned. Harvest knowledge and wisdom from life's events.

As I am working in both black and white journals at the moment, I thought it would be fun to do some process shots for both. I did the white one in the last post, so here is the journal with black pages this time. If you just want to see some close-ups, head down to the bottom of the post.


Collage pieces.


Gesso over the pieces. As with the white journal, I leave some patches bare of gesso. With the white pages it allows the paint to react differently on the coated and uncoated parts. With the black pages it allows dark patches to add depth.


A bit of colour. I dragged a plastic card through the teal paint to add some texture.


Some squiggles and dashes were added in gold pen.


A bit of stencilling and some more marks, this time with a black Copic pen.


 I added a few more bits of collage. I don't often do that after the first couple of layers, but I had added some marks that I wasn't happy with, so I covered them up. I forgot to take a photo in between, so you can see that there are quite a few more marks added since the last photo - some lines in Neocolor II, some white stripes and dots, and a bunch of black squares that I regretted as soon as they were done!


A good dose of grey paint pushed the new collage papers back a bit and tamed the black I didn't like. 


Neocolor II scribbles and some drippy paint helped to embed the collage further. 


White paint applied with my fingers, more stencilling, and some painted lines. The shapes in the centre then became the reason for the journalling - they look like wheat stalks to me. 

A few more details were added as seen in the photo at the top of this post. And here are some close-ups of some of the details. 






Monday 3 September 2018

Home is more than a place


Home can be a place where you are.
        It can also be a place where you aren't.
The place you don't want to leave...
       or the place you always want to come back to.
It can be something you yearn for
       or the situation you occupy right now.
It can be geographically specific
       or anywhere that the people you love are.
It all depends on how you think about home in your heart.

This time I remembered to take a few 'in progress' photos, so here's the process:


A few bits of collage to start with.


A few blocks of colour applied with a colour shaper, and some pencil scribbles.


A couple more bits of collage and a Stabilo marks-all pencil squiggle.


I sprayed some water on the black squiggle, added a few green stripes of gelli-printed greaseproof paper, and swooshed on some watery magenta and brown.


A few marks with neocolor II purple, some white pen marks, a couple of strips of silver-striped washi tape, and a bit of cream acrylic applied with a small palette knife


A few more marks and a bit of journalling, and the page is finished.