One of the things I’m loving about art journaling is that you don’t need to know where you’re going when you start a page. In fact, it’s often better not to know!
This week I took a wonderful tutorial with Pam Garrison, guest artist of Season of Art 101 at Get Messy. We worked in layers, each seemingly unrelated to the other. At many points I could have stopped, happy with what had been created so far. Pam encouraged us to keep going, just to experience what might happen if we did. Even at the end, after the artwork felt complete, I could have stopped and left the page free of words. Nevertheless, I followed Pam’s advice and continued on. And I’m so glad I did.
I really enjoyed diving into each stage of the process. Each new layer involved leaving something behind – the page as it had been – and moving forward to what it was becoming.
One of the things I’ve been learning in my exploration of art journaling is that there are different ways to start working on a page. You can come to it with an idea of what it is you’d like to express. This idea then informs the choices and decisions that you make as you start to work. Alternately, you can start with the art materials themselves. Put down some colours and shapes and let them suggest where you might go next. The piece we worked on with Pam was a perfect example of this.
I’ve also been enjoying the fact that on an art journaling page not everything is shown. Where you start may be completely invisible by the time you reach the end. Words and images may be covered or partially obscured by collage or layers of paint. I was amazed at how much of my earlier layers ended up being hidden in this piece. But the act of obscuring is also one that reveals; this lady only emerged from the page by obscuring large areas of what had come before.
This puts a new slant on the work being process-oriented.
It has taken me a long time to understand the power of the act of turning a thing (- like a comp book -) into a place for an experience…
– Lynda Barry, The Best American Comics 2016
Many of the things I wrote, drew, and expressed are hidden beneath the surface – part of the piece and yet submerged. But the fact they’re there makes a difference, a visual reminder of the experience that has happened while making this page.