My sketchbook is very personal. It’s a collection of paper art experiments— but it is also a safe place to notice what I notice. Let me show you what I mean.
Rather than starting with a clean, new sketchbook, I decided to alter an existing book. I found this large, vintage book about Leonardo da Vinci at my public library’s used book sale.
Its timeworn beauty is classic and comforting. Published in the 1940s, it feels elegant to me in a grand-parently way.
You might think it’s a shame to alter such a book. But I hope Leonardo would rather be in my hands as a creative tool than on my coffee table as a reference book.
Making the first mark of a project feels intimidating, and I waded into my new book slowly. Starting in the back, I used one of the last pages as a place to test art materials. This felt like a comfortable first step.
Next I used a blind contour drawing as the basis for a self-portrait using soft pastels. I’ve never been a confident artist, but I can play! So I had fun smudging the colors with my fingers. It was sort of like putting myself into the book— again, near the very back in a “safe place.”
Now it felt like my book belonged to me in a more personal way.
Where does creative inspiration come from? I think it’s a collage of little ideas that start sticking together. We can try to see the separate bits sometimes, but it’s mostly a hazy cloud, isn’t it?
A big spark for me happened when taking Jeanne Oliver‘s class, Reflections Paint Your Story. The course was about creatively telling your life story in many different ways. I loved the idea of using a circle. What a fascinating and beautiful course! To begin, I drew a big circle— lightly— on the inside cover of my book like this:
Then I got another idea that felt more urgent to me.
Rather than tell my own story, I decided to use photos from my hikes, print them onto copy paper, cut them out, and collage them onto the backdrop of the circular calendar.
This is how it began for me. I was making a Microseasonal Calendar before I had a name for it.
Every time I got ready to glue down the images and have a final version of the calendar, I would stop and rearrange them again. Then I realized I didn’t have to make a static, finished product. Why not let this page serve as a backdrop? Like a template of the year— I could keep playing with it forever.
My sketchbook became a place to be, a table where I can work out ideas and questions in a safe and creative way. I now use my book for pressing leaves…
or thinking about the things I care about…
My sketchbook helps me clarify ideas and questions that are not yet clear to me.
To stay creative, I think we have to keep surprising ourselves. We have to resist the urge to be too nailed down and formulaic. Formulas get tiresome.
I want to have a comfortable expectation of what’s coming, and yet still allow myself to be awed by what I find on my daily walks. This is what I love about observing the Microseasons. Sometimes what I feel is a wild jumble of beautiful colors and textures.
Sometimes it’s quiet and subtle. My sketchbook has become a Creative Space that I’m never tired of playing in.
Is it possible to be creatively inspired— on every ordinary day?
Absolutely Yes.
“Creativity plays with the objects it loves,” says Carl Jung.
Why not make a little sketchbook and use it like a creative tool?
Notice what you love.
Your journal pages are SO inspiring! Love the wheel (of life)! 😍
I'm utterly delighted to discover your Substack Ann, (via Jenna @witchcraftandmetaphysics) It may seem strange to be commenting on a much earlier post, your April is my October here in Aotearoa, New Zealand. I love this idea of a microseasonal sketch book and hearing the journey on how you started it. Truly inspiring ! Thank you!