{start to finish}

{we all need a sanctuary}

Remember when I said I'd make wallpapers? Yeah, well, here I am! We just missed a month. Hope that's okay!

Go here to get one!

August was a blur of work and sleep. I must have been sick for awhile, there, or perhaps I'm trying to excuse my procrastination? There are many projects going on behind the scenes here in Kira Land, and many have taken up all my time! I hate when work sucks up the joy of living -- aren't we working so we CAN live? I don't want it to be the other way around; it was like that for awhile, when I was younger, and I left those kinds of jobs for a reason!

I am working on responding to your emails and comments! The other day, I was chatting with Dawn, and we were talking about how, with school starting again and the seasons changing, that comments have gone down in the world of blogs. I said, "I miss that connection with others." I don't like counting them, or even look at traffic reports....bah! I don't blog to be popular! But I do love "meeting" new people and connecting.

Of course, it's a two-way street! A week ago, my monitor died, so I really wasn't reading emails -- but I'm back and feeling better and ready to teach, inspire, and connect. In fact, as soon as I finish this entry, I'm importing video for a new vid! WOOO! And it's just one where you watch me work. I find people want more of those than anything else. And I'm happy to provide!

Have a great week, lovelies!

{being brave through the darkest days}

I don't have time to do a video -- I work over the weekend, and didn't want to wait until next week to post some fun. I haven't given you any tutorials or such in awhile, and feel like it's time.

I've seen my style change so much in the last few months; it's morphed into a true outpouring of myself. I used to worry and obsess over this: I'd ask people if they knew a piece was mine just by looking at it. Looking over pages, I couldn't see any cohesiveness that connected one to the next, showed off "me." Instead, I saw disconnected pieces, the mark of someone going through that "dark period" of discovery.

You may not know it yet, or perhaps you're in the throws. It is that time between copying those you like and emerging as your true self. When you know you want to go somewhere authentic, but don't know exactly where that is. If only I could draw you a map -- alas, each journey is different.

You will be tempted to fall back into old habits, to stare at the art you love and copy it. But you'll find it doesn't thrill you as it once did. You've moved past it, and looking behind you won't do you any good.

Bravery is required -- this is the stage that makes or breaks an artist. It will be hard. Challenging. You will create art for days that you hate. And you may decide to throw in the towel and shove your journal under a mattress.

And one day, you'll notice a hole in your life. You'll walk around feeling empty, lost. And won't know what it is. So you'll peek under that mattress, and -- behold! The journal waited for you. Patient and loving, the journal will always be there for you in those times of need -- both joyful and sad.

Working through this stage, you'll find yourself. You'll find not only what you can create and offer to the world -- you'll figure out who YOU are inside. You will come out a complete, authentic person. It just takes time.

I've been art journaling for 5 years, and only in the last few months have I truly loved most of the pages I create. I am finally making the art I have always been destined to make. It is a journey, my friends, and we are all on it.

{clensing the palette/palet}

The last two weeks have been difficult; my body revolted against an attempt to stretch my limits, the perfectionist in me wishing to be "normal" and do what everyone else can -- work eight hour shifts at work. I worked and cleaned and tried to organize my life into what I felt it should be, not what my heart has planned for me, and, well, it kicked my ass. I've been on the couch or sleeping if not at work, and yesterday was the first time in a while I even stepped foot in the studio.

Hrmm. Part of me feels the studio needs a name. I'll have to ruminate on this.

the studio before cleaning

But everything is clean! I spent yesterday focusing on the studio, bringing in new furniture, doing a bit of decorating, and finally hanging curtains (if you've done Skype with me, you know how hard it is to see me when I'm at my computer desk). It is amazing how doing something like this can change the feeling of a room.

After! All clean!

Sometimes, we need to focus on other things. If we journal all the time, perhaps it's time to work on a garland, or learn basic jewelry techniques. If painting, perhaps it is time to write. If writing, try your hand at a new craft. When we focus so completely on our specific form of art, we become immersed in it, obsessed with it, and our well dries up.

pretty garland made of coffee filters & baking doilies

It's like that sorbet you eat between courses at a good restaurant. You eat one course, then cleanse the pallet so you can more fully experience the tastes of the next; the second isn't tainted by the first. When frustrated or uninspired, burned out or just not feeling it, we need to try our hand at a new or different craft.

Absorbed by journaling, I tried a bit of decorating and creating of a different kind. I created a beautiful garland to go over the pale purple curtains I found, a craft that is a lot harder than it looks! After hours of dying and trimming and varying, I could get to stringing everything together. Now, whenever I go up the stairs, I see this dainty, pretty craft hanging.

the binding corner & me wall

And I'm ready to dive back into the journaling. I am finished with pushing myself -- I know my limits and must simply accept them. Yes, this means less money and more worry over monies owed, but I can't live as I have lately. I lost the passion to create, to read, to imagine and live. Today, I faced the judge seeing my case at the Social Security Administration, wracked by nerves, and asked for an extension. I can do anything.

I hope you're along for the ride! I'm working on a new online workshop, a secret project, and another project with Dawn -- I'm sure you'll love it! More videos and photos and pages. I need to stop fighting against it and go with my heart. But always remember to take time to clear my mind, work on something else, and refill that well.

My mother found this dainty 1946 copy of Emma for me. I faced that judge wearing my grandmother's pearls and holding the prayers of my friends in my heart. I trailed around an art store and explored. I feel like a new woman, one who is ready to accept my destiny and get working!

{the ground beneath our feet}

My bedroom was in shambles. First, I didn't know if I had a floor anymore. Second, I no longer could find a damn thing. My frustration blew this morning, and I woke up, grabbed two big black garbage bags, and got to work.

Six bags later, I'm just about finished. I had to box up my manga because my towering bookcase was overflowing onto the floor. I cleaned out the white plastic drawer thing I've had since collage (and have been using as a nightstand) and tossed it. Got rid of anything I don't use anymore -- clothes, electronics, the detritus of daily life.

The walls are empty of the sci fi posters I pinned up during middle school. A few Japanese fashion pages remain in the corner. But the walls are bare. You can see the holes from pins, the tape, the putty for hanging things.

After three times of purging, there isn't much left (other than hundreds of books). Shelves once teeming are empty. There are only five pieces of furniture in the room, leaving blank spaces, gaping white holes.

Standing back, tired after seven hours of work, it doesn't feel like my bedroom anymore. I get no sense of me-ness from it. My studio has become a comfortable haven, my safe place, and where most of my things are (bills, bag, art supplies, etc). Was this because my bedroom was so toxic? Or have I shifted?

Reading last night, I'm reminded of what one of the characters said. I'm paraphrasing, of course, but: what if it is us who are altered, and not the ground beneath our feet?

All that I was has been cleared from the room, and it stands as a blank canvas to who I will become. I feel like taking chalk to the walls, drawing and writing secret messages to be covered by coats of fresh paint, hidden by the new, but always there.