A few days ago, two books arrived in the mail. They're both amazing, but I've fallen in love with one in particular on creating art journals. It's gorgeous--filled with the most amazingly talented and complex work by several women artists. It has freed me in the last few days, and fired my imagination like nothing has lately. My mind reels with the possibilities of what can be done and how there doesn't have to be a rhyme or reason to it. The work is intimidating to look at, to realize that this is just their "practice," but at the same time, I see how I'm still not as free as I need and want to be in how I do my work. This piece, I just threw things together without much thought. It has a different feel to it that I like. My problem now is that it doesn't feel like there are enough hours in the day to play with it all and I find my mind wandering from work and Darvin and the girls into a collage or some pastel scheme I want to play with. I've begun to think about preparing the pages of my "regular" journal--the one I write in--with my art so that my journal just winds it's way through those pages. Too bad I can't earn a living this way.