I loved this journal. The size was perfect and non-intimidating, the paper was sturdy enough for me to watercolor without warping, and it didn’t bleed through when I used permanent markers. I found it at a cute little bookstore in Ballard but I haven’t seen it there since. Such is life. I still have some pages left in it, but it feels almost done. I would say finished except I think the best rule for art journals is that you’re never allowed to call something finished. As I flipped through it while scanning it for this project, I even thought of going back through and adding little touches and details here and there. I may not get around to it, but it feels good to know I have something to work on, should I ever find myself without a project (yeah right).
This was the right book for me to experiment with styles. I kept most of it abstract and didn’t worry about erasing pencil lines. I tried to fill each page until it had a completed look, even if a bit unfinished. Mostly I kept it fun, with some art prompts I did with my mom and there’s a page with a flower in the top left that a little girl I babysat drew. She asked me to help so I added circles and dashes to all of her lines, filling in whenever she told me I wasn’t drawing on it enough. There’s also an equation I wrote out for some philosophy idea David and I were poring over, because that’s the shit that makes it into my journals. Inside references and experiments.