View allAll Photos Tagged Journal
We painted this in our Art Journal Group by using a magazinimage. Is it done for my Art Challenge Mix It Monthly with the theme " Fairytales - Rapunzel"
Why have I encountered so many accidents in the last few weeks? Once again this was on Wilson Road at the on/off ramp to eastbound 70.
A page in my A4 (12 x 8) art journal. Inks and paints by Dylusions at www.afth.co.uk
Borders and hand by Tumblefish Studio.
Same idea as the sketchbook page I did with these little pods - only way bigger.
I ripped the fabric cover off of a journal I had made a couple of years ago, and decided to completely redecorate the front and back covers. This is the back
Fourth journal quilt. I started with an orphan block from my stash, created the tree trunk with rice beads and sequins and the treetop with a purchased trim that I cut apart. The river is also sequins, in two colors for shading.
Jay bought me a new journal from Stillman & Birn for my birthday in October. (This one is the "Delta Series".) I just started filling in some pages this month.
Another Zenspirations-inspired composition in my art journal. Can you tell I love making these? Sakura Micron pens and colored pencils. I'm starting to run low on some of my favorite colors. Time to order more. I'm already on my 3rd set of Micron pens.
I started with my art journal today! I'm going to try and do this on a daily basis. It was fun!!! Blogged here: www.creativeflutter.blogspot.com
. . . my one journal entry for the week (!). Maybe a bit of a stretch to draw a shoe, on a convenient foot, at the end of a convenient leg, and compare it to the importance of being "comfortable" with one's journal and the journaling process, but there you have it! And it definitely qualifies as an "old" shoe :-)
Another photo from my trip to Chengdu, China: games involving either cards or dice were very common sights. My hosts told me that compared to other large cities in China, the people of Chengdu were known for taking life a little bit more slowly and enjoyably.
Part of my Chengdu Journal
This is a rather cartoonish view of my cat Lily. She is taking to getting on my recliner usually while I’m in it and doing the pound puppy pose basically both arms and legs draped on either side of the top of the recliner.
New Journal "Bandar-Log" now live: zvereff.com/journal/bandar-log/
One year ago I was sitting in a train station somewhere in-between Varanasi and New Delhi, India, en route to meet some friends. I unfastened a staple from a semi-opened plastic bag of peanuts, poured them into my mouth and bit directly into a rock. I spit it out, extremely disappointed because I hadn’t eaten in hours. Everything had been a mess and I was in a rut -- I just couldn’t catch a break. I turned around to see a book-seller that had a few books in English, and placed in front for every tourist to see was Kipling’s "The Jungle Book". I gave the man a few rupees and hopped on the train, book in hand. I lied down on the stiff bed for the 12-hour train ride and began to read the book that I remembered as a Disney movie from my childhood.
One year later, as I am sitting here and reading headlines that India is once again celebrating its Holi Festival, memories come flooding back. The month I spent there was an extraordinary experience. Traveling long hours and resting only short periods of time, my friends and I jammed as many possible destinations as we could into that month. For most of that time we were extremely uncomfortable: I caught a virus of some sort, which lasted almost the entire first month I was there, and lost a lot of weight; I simply could not function, nor focus, as my senses were completely overwhelmed. In my fevered state, my impressions of India were that of a country that had gone completely mad. As I got better, I began to look for ways to focus on small moments, and I started to isolate and hone in on the beautiful little things occurring everywhere around me amidst the chaos. India is incredible: it is unique, and the contrasts-- stark.
In the western hemisphere we are raised with organization. Our homes are built as perfect boxes that all look exactly the same in neighborhoods with roads on a grid. We have stores which have bins where everything is neatly placed. When we buy tickets, food, or almost anything for that matter, we form a queue. We have a mutual understanding to remain calm and stand in line. Even if there are no posted rules, we automatically apply them in an orderly fashion. In India this kind of order is simply not part of the culture, and though it is incredibly frustrating at first, when embraced, it can be liberating. Chaos can work-- it finds a way, just like our universe.
When I arrived in Delhi, I left "The Jungle Book" behind, but it stayed with me, especially the part about the Monkey People (Bandar-Log). I kept thinking of how they seemed so wild, and how Mowgli was hungry and exhausted while they danced, scatterbrained, around the destroyed human city they occupied. It was his discomfort and regret for coming to the lost city that mirrored my own feelings at the start of the journey. I realized that to really understand this place, at first I had to get over the physical discomfort and accept the chaos. Reading that book on that train ride gave me a sense of perspective on my own adventure. Experiences can only be as high as they have been low, and India certainly blessed me with both of those. In India, when the highs came, they were vastly more powerful than could be imagined. Daily life is lived in the moment: it is freedom at its essence, chaotic and unplanned. Every breath taken is a gift; every sunrise is beautiful. India presents a conscience reality that is fragile and exposed to the core. Although India has already been heavily documented by much better and more prominent photographers than I, I have no qualms being one of the many. My experiences there are now a cherished memory: colorful, filthy, sickly, and joyous. I present “Bandar-Log”.
the other morning I was sitting on the rooftop and smoking. it was the first time in months to sit outside with no coat or jumper on, and the first time to welcome the sun in such tender way. I saw a bird sitting on the top of a birch, on the branch that was up high the most, and I wondered what it’d be like to sit where he sat and have this breath-taking view on the village. I wanted to take a photo of him, but he flew away as I had gotten my camera. so I just sat down again and watched the sky and saw my neighbour walking her dog down the road.
that was one of the most beautiful mornings I’d had in a long, long time.
"It's hard to remember we're alive for the first time.
It's hard to remember we're alive for the last time.
It's hard to remember to live before you die.
It's hard to remember that our lives are such a short time.
It's hard to remember what it takes such a short time.
It's hard to remember to live before you die.
It's hard to remember."