I never used to “art” journal.
Really, the only time I picked up a journal (since leaving architecture) has been during travels.
Wherever I go, I take at least a blank journal and a black ink pen and try to sketch.
When I was an architect, and all through school, I carried various sketchbooks around with me, and there was one near my bed for those inspirations while dreaming (I used to work out my design issues in my dreams, wake up and make some sketches and comments)
I started one recently about all this crap I’m going thru with breast cancer, and chemo.
So far, most of it has been about the horrors of chemo, and losing my hair.
I’ll try to scan a few of the more psychotic images I’ve made for upload here…they make me laugh.
it is quite theraputic, but it’s very different than the sketching and journaling I used to do, that was working out ideas for design projects…this is just, sort of, self-indulgent self pity, I think.
In any case, it’s been traumatic, and the journal is some place to pour it all out.
I’m not sure I will ever want to look at it again, though.
