trimmingthesails

Pondering in the Spring ...

I don't know about you but there are times when I'm never quite sure, beginning to journal, just how it will turn out. So often it depends on the picture ...

My photos seem to develop personalities of their own. Sometimes, as I I scroll through, one jumps out shouting "Look at me!" in a very histrionic and posey way: "Choose me! I'm the one! Do something with me!" Others are quieter, more muted: they murmur quietly, wait in line, happy to take turns with no pushing and shoving. There are some which don't speak at all - you might hardly notice they're there. Not especially colourful, not particularly well-composed, not very noteworthy at all. These are the ones I've learnt to sit with a while ...

For when I do, what stirs faintly and delicately is not usually the photo. It's something in me - a touching, an awakening, a coming together of the faintly felt, the barely articulated. And if I begin to type, however falteringly, it gathers itself together and begins to flow through my fingers. What spills onto the page is often a surprise. As this was: just a simple Sunday photo ...

 

Keeping up with ...

... well, not the Joneses, but myself. I am determined this year not to 'meet myself coming backwards', as my grandmother expressively used to say.  Here's how the first fortnightly spread for January, in my 'This is 2011' album, has turned out:

Loving simple pages, I also need a simple process this year. Here's what I tried:

• setting up a template in advance - I love designing these.
• every few days during the fortnight, selecting a photo, dropping it in, and writing a heading plus a brief comment on a coloured strip - this took only 5 or 10 minutes at a time.
• typing in the main block of journalling at the end of the fortnight.
• getting it off the computer and into something tangible by printing the right-hand page and the photos, and preparing it for the album (covers yet to make).

 

Did it deliver what I hoped? Yes. When life was very busy, it only took small amounts of time to keep the pages moving forward and I enjoyed the sense of keeping up with documenting my days. It flowed along quite nicely.

Would I do anything different? Yes, again. Printing out the photos and trimming them individually, then reassembling them carefully with even spacing is not for me - or at least, not for this part of my album. On Saturday, my lovely crop-friend Karen (posting at UKScrappers as KJJC) watching me and my repositionable glue make a botched job of it, recommended a T-square to remove the stress, and suggested that printing them all on one page was - well - taking the fun out of it ... However, reprinting onto a single sheet when I got home and sticking the whole lot down with a few swipes of Herma was, frankly, blissful in comparison! Apologies to all of you with skill and patience and the ability to use glue with elegant flair - but I really need simple right now. :)

Anyone else documenting their year? How is it going? Please feel free to add a link below, or a comment, so we can come and visit!

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(For those of you who are interested in the technical aspects, the pages are 24x30cms, printed onto smooth white card, with the photos printed onto half a sheet of Ilford Galerie silk photo-paper A3+. My HP Photosmart 750 is creaking a bit but still functioning in the main, and allows for printing larger pages. These would work equally well resized for an A4 printer.)

Throwing away ...

And after the gentle rocking by the strong old woman through the long, dark night? (See Friday 7th January, story collected by Gloria Pinkola Estés). The old and weary man grew younger and younger, and became a small and very beautiful child with golden hair, plaited like wheat. Just as dawn broke, the old woman quickly plucked three hairs from the young child's head and threw them on the floor - and the child crawled down from the old woman's lap, paused at the door to give her a dazzling smile, then flew up into the sky to become the brilliant morning sun ...

The three hairs? They represent the need to throw away, to let go of some things or ideas before new energy can flow. In the quiet rocking, it's time 'to get right down to the bones of everything and anything in your life'. Those of you who visit regularly will probably smile, knowing that simplifying and letting go is music to my ears.

So although I am not yet done with musing and stillness, one hair that I am going to let go of, is the struggle to work out where everything in scrapbooking and journalling belongs in the welter of December, Christmas, Daily Life, My Holiday projects and albums. Should a journal be kept separate from the photo album? If a page has drawing, or paint or collage too, does that go in a writing journal or an art journal? Supposing it's got a few photos as well - is that the photo album, then? Water needs clear edges to flow, or it will sink away into shallow, swampy, silted fringes ...

It's all going in one place this year. One chunky, richly-textured volume, with pockets, flaps and hiding places for more private work, and spreads, inserts, and booklets for photos and journalling which record the year. There'll be room for fabric work, digital work, anything where creative energy flows. On the front, it will simply say 'This is 2011'.

Ikea's catalogue (we've perused it often enough during the renovations!) is, aptly, providing a template: photos one side, journalling the other. I feel the creative juices gathering already ... Here's the template I've been making and playing around with:

By Monday, the first fortnightly spread will be done. There have been some queries about how I'm going to print and store the New 52 layouts - I'll include this too. Oh, and I love the serendipity of that catalogue page title 'What do you love?' That I can be clear about. Simplicity. :)

One little word ..?

It was very unexpected. I hadn't anticipated it. Given the chaos and unpredictability of the previous six weeks, I had, frankly, given up trying to plan anything. Keeping my head above the water (just), and trying not to go under with the 'flu and the daily building disasters, was as much as I was capable of. And yet, there it was: a gift on Christmas Day. Where all seemed immobile, frozen, lost in stillness, there was the faint but unmistakeable murmur of the stream underneath. Yes, it was soft and muted - but alive and flowing it was. We smiled at each other, wordlessly recognising our shared thought and gentle rejoicing.

This is the beginning of the story of my word for this year. How it will shape me and flow through me, as my parents come to live with us, our second grandchild makes his or her way into the world, and my current work either comes to an end or unfolds into something else, I have no idea. But there is a promise in it ...

Wishing you all a very happy and creative year ...