An Incomplete Picture
Hello dear readers, I haven’t forgotten about you. It has been several weeks and many miles since my last blog post but now I’m back in ordinary time swaying between computer screen and studio time. One of my summer endeavors is to do some sorting and packing and moving along of stuff, too much stuff, both in my home and studio. I find it especially hard to get rid of things in my studio, I might need that scrap of fabric, or dab of paste, I might want that old poster to cut up or weathered wood to work on, but space is limited and I find my creativity and my inner calm hampered by the clutter, so I sort. In the save pile I have a stack journals and sketchbooks. Not one of these is filled from cover to cover save for one plein air sketchbook (perhaps I should pay attention to that, but not for this post). Most of these journals were started at the beginning or end of something. Most detail love lost, or angst, or love and angst. One journal begins with being dumped but doesn’t continue on to brighter days of self-confidence and satisfaction. Another little book begins with a lovely inscription from my husband at the beginning of our infertility journey. He gave me the journal to help me during the daunting and rigorous infertility process, and a fine idea it was. But reading back I find that I journal the journey through only 3 of the 7 unsuccessful tries and not a note about the triumphant 8th and semi miraculous try that led to birth of our most amazing, gift of a son, Ivan. Some future reader thumbing these pages at a yard sale will find a picture of a woman of dark countenance and even darker future. But it isn’t so! Here I am, bright and shiny and filled with the joy of living. I just want to get that on the record. Until I sat down to write about these fragmentary texts stacked in my studio, I didn’t realize that this blog right here is my latest journal attempt, I am inching up to three years on this commitment! I will admit there are times when I’m not sure why I’m blogging, I have had confused conversations with people trying to describe the purpose of my blog. Many people want to know if there is a financial or career motive to my blogging. I would have to say there is no economic reason to blog and it’s debatable if there is any career advancing reason to blog. But here I am confessing to you. Ugh I’ve done it again, by blogging my thoughts I’ve come to the root of it. Perhaps it’s a confessional!? I’m not catholic, I fancy myself something of a christianbuddistpagen, but this act of writing to you, confessing to you, my desire to share something of my misgivings and transgressions with you as well as my triumphs and discoveries, is motivational. In the past when I kept a journal it was very insulated and internal, no editing for comsuption and so the thoughts are incomplete, bitter and bruised. But the act of blogging, has been a boiling down, a making of jam, taking the tart fruit and sugar of my life and adding the the spice and tang of you my subscribers, stirring and cooking, stirring and cooking, until a sweet concoction is achieved. So thank you for being out there in the ether, in the cloud, across the interweb, and down the street. I’ll keep at it if you’ll come with me to keep me honest.
I’d love to hear your experiences, struggles and successes, with journaling and blogging, how does it work and what does it mean to you?