All things must change, to something new, to something strange.
It was a pleasant and mindful process which is something I love about journaling. I've begun doodling flourishes, lines, and other things with extra fine markers just for the slow, mindful process. I love the feeling. I love the way things feel both tactile and physically. I am a Textilian. One of things I like to glue into my journals is rose petals (an idea I borrowed from my beautiful daughter, Bhride--first you convince them to art journal and then you borrow their ideas). If you flatten them (unabridged dictionary works for me), then gluestick (oh, holy gluestick) them down, and do not put any thing over them (I tried botanical glue, it did not work) you can touch them and they are like velvet on your page.
Lately I have been laying paper on paper, and I love how it stiffens like paper mache. I love the feeling of the starchiness. I could glue pages together, but it doesn't really appeal to me (one day it will--I just haven't found the right situation thus far). I've been mulling over how to add fabric to my pages, so far I've used ribbon. But I tend to go for a grunge look that I haven't figured out yet for fabric, maybe tea dying and iron burnmarks, spilled coffee and bits of lace, apron pockets and hankies. Or just a book for swatches and a magnificent cover. A fabric fondle book of sorts.
It amazes me how much just spilled out of my head just then--putting ideas down tends to make them morph and grow.
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