my second sale! :D

my second sale - to a new collector! thank you, rowan, for buying my drawings! this lady is a lover of things on the darker side, and i am so glad to have shared some of my most organic pages with her. it has actually inspired me to go a bit deeper and to maybe draw some less pretty things....i am so afraid to show that side of me, so i mostly stay colorful and positive in my work. i have tried to begin drawings with more a more sinister feel, but would rather do that aside from my journal, so no one can see it.....

*warning: art therapy speech coming on*
on the upside of that, i can't remember how to visually represent my dark side. it's been years since i've drawn raw emotion. my art as therapy has become mainly a means to control what lines come out, a way to channel my scattered thought processes. when i used to draw raw, i didn't like what i made. it was childish and some of it was just disturbing. now i LIKE what i draw, and feel good after i put my journal down, so i will stay with that for now....and maybe explore the dark stuff on some scrap paper :) 
funny, as many years as i have been doing my own therapy through art, i am still learning how to use it to my best advantage....

process and focus

this is page 41. the only page i drew horizontally. it really bothers me that i chose this direction, having the binding on the bottom, but it worked out cool. :) layering, as i have previously pointed out, helps organize my thought process. it forces me to go one strip at a time, therefore i focus. it also looks all neat and tidy, making me calm. funny, my method of organization is to make piles all over my house. gives the fake illusion that i have it all together ;)

even the way i complete a drawing takes my concentration away from my encumbering thought racing. first i create the outlines of the entire drawing, then color in basic broad areas, then detail it to death. it's how most artists work, i assume, but i am breaking it down to show how each step is a way to hone your attention and take it away from other less appealing streams of mental discussion.

 

 below, page 42, is incomplete. i just didn't know what to showcase. decision-making is exhausting to me. if i can't come up with a concrete answer immediately, i usually give up. if i do, then i almost always go over and over it, pros and cons, is there something better...ugh. what a waste of life.

death of a hallucination

zoloft was one of the only antidepressants that ever worked for me for more than a few months. i remember when i first started taking it everything was so pretty and extra colorful~ oral rose-colored glasses....i used to sit on the porch and stare at the woods across the lot. the dizziness from beginning new meds made me have visions of shadows that rose above the treeline....i called it "people over the trees". sometimes they were funny, and other times they made me feel like they were watching me. (changing meds is a joy, huh?)

i made this in my journal as a way to smile at that time in my life. even though i was literally scared of the dining room chairs, i was able to take a small thing like the feeling i'm being watched and remember the times i felt it was funny that these shadows were staring at me...

in one sentence, i can say that my art erased a recurring hallucination i had during a dark time. instead of writing about it, i drew a picture of what i was "seeing and feeling". it never bothered me again.

that is a powerful tool. writing about it would have given it more energy, but drawing it brought it to the surface and made me confront it. i have kept the drawing. where many would have wanted to destroy it, i didn't want to burn it or trash it because it was my validation.  a reminder that i can succeed at calming fractions of my chaos.

starting journals, hospital

i started doing art in my journals in college, and painting time was the only time i felt sane and in control.  it took me years to realize i needed this consistently. i did projects here and there, and in between was a wreck. i was in and out of therapy, on and off meds (heavy anti-depressants at this point) and basically just trying to get from day to day. i did hold down a job at a group home for autistic adults, which was the most amazing job i could have imagined. these clients were some of the most interesting people i ever met. as i did art with them, i learned how powerful it was as a communication tool. i began doing more for myself, and started a collage journal - cut and paste mostly. if you knew how many hours and days i spent cutting up magazines...it only helped part of my life.  my job was challenging and my life was getting serious.

at some point i gave up, and everything crashed down on me. i took a bunch of meds and ended up in the psych ward for 3 weeks. as i laughed at those aides who tried to coerce me into the craft room to make potholders, i found strips of embroidered ribbons and tassels. i wanted them. so i started a "pillow" of hoarded scraps which got bigger and bigger over the 3 weeks i was there. then i had my boyfriend (now my husband) bring in my journal and magazines and glue, and i was allowed to have scissors under supervision. apparently they hadn't noticed the sculpture i created out of the wire hanger i found in my room (?!). when i had my things in my hands i was strong - i had a place to hide and a means to have authority over my mind. i remember the curiosity and interest my art and supplies triggered..and wide-eyed glares from the social workers and nurses. made me smile....

how my journaling started

i used to write endlessly in my personal journals. i was born with a LOVE for the physical act of writing, and kept many diaries and keepsake journals. but the matters i wrote about in my young adult years were things that bothered me, so i was actually giving permission to my brain to continue obssessing. yes, i unwaveringly believe that this process is cathartic and useful, and that writing out thoughts can dismiss them from your mind, but i also found that i kept returning to my journals for affirmation that i had reasons to be crazy. by rereading entries, i opened old crap for re-examination, which eventually made the thought processes spin further out of control.

i continued writing for years, sometimes pages filled with small longhand, other times a few disjointed words scrawled, painted or carved into the paper, but really very few drawings of any kind. the written word was seemingly more understandable to my imaginary readers? my only "art" was done separately from my journals, for classes mostly...

at the time i was most prolific with written journals, i was the most ill. i didn't care that my rantings were very unpleasant and disturbing to others. i was still new to my braincrap (as it presented during these years), and i was unsure of what to make of it.  i was scared, suicidal and in moments of lucidity, embarassed. this dark period (that sounds so artistic) overlapped with my bachelor's studies in art therapy and psychology. at one point my art therapy professor (thank you, M) expressed concern over my art therapy class journal and projects. he insisted i find a therapist, and i did.

and the excrutiatingly slow process of mental rehab (through self-imposed art therapy) begins...

SCRAP-BOT

so, we are a family who likes to spend weekends not doing much, it doesn't help that we don't have any money right now, but both my kids love arts and crafting.  rodney is getting to enjoy it as well. i need a much larger table...

one boring sunday in the 100 degree summer, i took out my big trunk-box of jewelry scraps so we could make ROBOTS!   luk has been into the movie "robots" so he had the greatest reaction when the box was opened..."wo-ow!"

it was especially cool because i would guess half of what is in there is from my grandfather, who was a watch and clock repairman. he used to give me little boxes full of parts and old watches.

then my BF kimmy (hi, kimmy!) and i would go from estate sale to rummage sale pillaging any and all the old costume jewelry and junk we could... man, i miss those days...we would go home and spend hours breaking stuff apart (gasp) and sorting and sharing - oh, so very therapeutic!  then we had to start collecting vials and coin bottles to keep our ever-expanding collection of beads and clasps, pins and jump rings...oh, drewel....now, to put it all to use.

well, here is what i made.