Old journal entries and Facebook statuses can make good art journal entries. This was both. The lettering isn’t great, and previous iterations made up various numbers before this, but here is Sunday’s 99/100 of #The100DayProject
Yup, you guessed it… I’m saying it again: It doesn’t have to be perfect to be worthwhile. The beauty of creating an art journal is the freedom to say whatever you want, in whatever way you want, to try out a new medium, new techniques, without fear of judgment or pressure to do your best. It’s up to you whether or not you share it. I’ve shared #My100DayArtJournal to encourage you to start an art journal and/or develop a regular habit of creativity, to take time for creative self-care.
I ran into myself in the openings of both books I dipped into that morning.
Virginia Woolf’s journal entry about Christina Rosetti’s squandered talent as she mashed her natural voice into narrow strictures of what she believed her faith required.
And brought to a hard stop before the end of Augusten Burroughs’ opening sentence, the emotionally unstable mother and the smell of Jean Naté.
Does a child ever recover from feeling inadequate for their mother?