The Wrecking Ball

Well, did we have a ball or what? I certainly did. It's been so much fun!

If you can bear to sit though it, the vlog does a whistle stop of the journal. You'll spot a couple of pages still waiting for a bit of the Lisa treatment but on the whole it is a complete wrecking experience. Even if some were a bit of a last minute rush!Making the vlog was funny. I gave up in the end. I either didn't turn the pages fast enough and the music ran out or was way too fast. So you get the music just ending suddenly - all part of the wrecking!! It all adds to the experience. I think some time soon I might invest in some video software so I can make a proper film.

Well, that's it then. Wrecked. Each week I've posted and talked a little about my journey so I don't want to repeat myself. Perhaps just a little recap on lessons learnt and the joy of the experience.

1. It's been great wrecking with my son, boyfriend and total strangers! I certainly didn't expect them to throw themselves in so whole-heartedly. My son, being a five year old boy, naturally loved anything involving getting messy!
2. I've made some great new friends and found some inspirational new blogs to read, groups to join, courses to attempt and a whole new creative outlet. I've loved seeing what you've all been doing and being able to travel this whole journey with you. Thank you for sharing and for taking the trouble to comment on my posts.
3. I've learned not to be too precious about my work - to be free and not worry about the end result too much. I've learned to let go and fly with the faeries (well, maybe I already did a bit of that flying stuff...)
4. I've mastered a few new interesting artistic techniques and been inspired to learn more.
5. I've finally had the guts to actually use all those art supplies and bits of ephemera I was keeping for that 'special project'. THIS IS THE SPECIAL PROJECT!
6. I learnt the word 'chica' and discovered that I am probably one! Am I? Do I qualify?
7. I have spent way too much money on more art supplies!
8. I have created a very messy house which has stayed that way for the past two months - and now I am hooked on creation is likely to stay that way forever (except when I'm expecting a visit from my Mother)! What fun!
9. It has proved rather a distraction. Both as itself and sometimes far away from wrecking and into the newly discovered land of art journaling, layering and developing on my long-neglected collage.
10. It keeps me sane and saves me from my boring 9-5 world of terrestial broadcasting.

And what will happen to my journal now? I wrote last week that it was sharing with the Group that kept me at it. Will I finish off those last remaining pages? Will I add a little, dabble some more with those already done? Will I throw it out? Well, no chance of me losing this little baby to the dustcart. I want to keep her to remind me of the journey and yes, I'll probably pick her up every now and again - especially when looking for inspiration. I may find some interesting object on the street that's just crying out to join the random things page. I may eventually smear proper dinner in it and not just the half hearted attempt. I may even take it in the shower without the shower cap!

A huge thank you to Jamie and the rest of the crew - I couldn't have done it without you! And, I guess it's not really goodbye - merely adieu until the next time.

Finally, before I go post this and check out all your blogs, my list of more ways to Wreck This Journal:

1. Leave it on the shelf untouched - what a wrecked opportunity!
2. Send it into space.
3. Wet it, then freeze it.
4. Smear with catnip and let the moggies do the rest.
5. Put it under a sofa cushion for a few days.
6. Cover with jam and see how many wasps you catch.
7. Dance salsa on it.
8. Pour bleach on it.
9. Leave it at a lost property office for 24 hours.
10. Drive over it.
11. Fix wheels to it and use it as a skateboard.
12. Eat your dinner off it.

Until next time mes amies... Keep in touch!

A would be what?

105 posts in and time for a spot of reflection. I should have done this five posts ago but the moment passed without me realising and then there was always something else to write about!

When I set this up one chilly night in February I sub-titled it musings of a would-be writer. I truly didn't expect that I would find quite so much to write about or what a creative journey I would be embarking upon. Finding all these other lovely blog people has been a real inspiration. I love bouncing from one site to another following the link love!

Well, am I a would-be writer? Some very nice people have pointed out that I am in fact already a writer which was a lovely thing to say. After 100 posts I guess I feel like a writer too. The novel may still be residing cosily in my head in a chilled out pose, but I've achieved a new year resolution: I write (nearly) every day and above all I enjoy it. I love writing! There, I've admitted it now!

I would like to consider myself a would-be artist. You never know, I might sell something one day :)

Much as it pains me to admit I am also well on the way to becoming a would-be expert in broadcasting and transmission and satellites and stuff. Though fear not, the very fact that I had to write "and stuff" shows just how far away this currently is. This week my six month work contract was extended to permanent. They want to keep me which is jolly nice of them and they seem pleased with what I've done so far. Half of me wants to say "more fool them" or possibly "more fool me for saying yes" but I guess I must have done an alright job here and there. It feels a bit like I'm only firing on minimal cylinders though. I've still not really clicked at all with the subject or the culture of the business. It's such a dichotomy to my real passions - my writing and creating, disappearing into a land of fantasy inhabited by elves and fairies or getting up to my elbows in scraps of paper and acryllics. It sure is a different world at work. Today, for example, I discovered that Jack Field and Anna Morphic are not actually employees of the company but in fact engineering terms.

And on that ridiculous joke, I will leave this rambling for this evening as I have to finish wrecking my journal in time for tomorrow's end of term celebration party! Night folks!

Sign up here

Those magic three words that I can't resist... You see, it's all these creative blogs I keep reading. Cool artist types are running and joining these classes and groups left right and centre and they all sound such fun. If you read me regularly (AND IF NOT WHY NOT!!??) you'll have seen some serious evidence of my Wreck this Journal experience. Regrettably, this draws to a close this week - which reminds me I still have some destruction to take forward - I've got a little bag full of my own hair which which shortly be creating 'art'. That sounds so disgusting doesn't it! Imagine the conversation I had with the hairdresser when I asked her to collect up some clippings. I confess that I actually took my journal in there with me to prove that I wasn't a complete nutcase, though she may have only been partially convinced!

Where was I? Ah yes, groups and courses. So, as well as WTJ I am also enjoying myself thoroughly learning some new techniques and getting inspiration from art journaling 102 (not sure what the 102 bit means but the art journaling should be self-explanatory). I joined this as an archived course so missed all the fun of learning with the group and sharing experiences... next time...

Fantasy Folded Art Book is where I will be getting sticky collaging and turning an old book into a work of art (well, that's the plan anyway). What makes this course even more enjoyable is that it was free. I won my fee back in a giveaway from the lovely Patty at River Bend Ranch. So thank you Patty. This has given me suitable impetus to work really hard and create something you will be proud of! It will also mean I get to use up all those lovely pictures I am snipping and tearing from my growing magazine and general ephemera collection.

And last but by no means least is my 'this should help me write my novel course' which I am ashamed to admit I started back in January then dried up on around March. However, I still have all the materials so will get around to it... eventually. It is run by Holly Lisle, a fantasy fiction author.

That's the list of the ones I'm actually dabbling in at present... Then we have the wish list...

I found another great source of learning and inspiration at the land of lost luggage and after an email chat had me so close to hitting the PAY NOW button I held back for the next course in September - Art Journaling Super Nova - the name on its own is enough to get me to sign on the dotted line.

Tonight, was the nearly the paintbrush that broke the camel's back (or something like that). I was just checking out my regular haunts and came across this post from the Queen of Creativity on juicy journaling. Can there be no end to this wicked temptation??? But the thing is... I am having sooooo much fun!

A late edit: AGGGRRRHHH Now look what I've found! I just have to join this too...... I have to.... I must.... I want to be a part of it....

A customer in need is a .... pest?

Last night I dreamt I was trying to buy a train ticket and catch a train to London.. from Polzeath… not sure what I was doing there and if that small Cornish resort even has a railway station, but that’s dreams for you! After experiencing some frustration in purchasing the ticket, including a near punch-up with an old lady who tried to queue jump and looked a bit like my Grandma, I finally got my ticket only to miss my train by one minute because I couldn’t find the train times. (Stick with me, there is actually a point to this rambling!)

The scene then switched to another angry customer complaining vociferously that they were bombarded with irrelevant information all over the station, including useless facts on advertising hoardings. All they wanted to find out what platform they needed to be on and when. Was that too much to ask? Rather than do the usual English thing of avoiding making eye contact with everyone; I instead stood on a chair and applauded this revolutionary outpouring. I was joined by the person standing next to me, then another and another, until eventually the whole station was applauding. It felt great. Then I woke up.

It may be entirely unrelated but I believe this subconscious rallying against poor customer service stemmed from a trip to the library earlier in the day when I waited patiently at the counter to pay my fines (tish – bad girl!). The ‘assistant’ was fully aware of me standing there trying awkwardly to balance a pile of books on a service desk that contains no space for such items. I mean this is a library, what do you expect!

However, he was rather busy sticking pointless labels in books. Pointless because the library has now gone self-service and your book is no longer stamped with the expected return date. Instead you wave your ticket under a laser beam and receive a receipt which you are expected to keep track of for however many weeks or remember when your books are due back (hence the fine…. I believe it’s a stealthy way of making more money out of us personally….). When he finally deigned to acknowledge my presence the look he gave me was one of withering contempt. How very dare I interrupt his important work? Who did I think I was? His eyes bored into me and I shrank a good few inches (not around the waist though, which would have been useful).

Quaking in my flip flops I explained I owed him some money. Tap tap tap on the computer as he fixed me with a beady glare and pursed his lips and prepared to tut. I handed over my coins and scurried off to the self service machine to check my books out and collect the receipt that I’ve already lost.

I left dejected and feeling slightly guilty. Am I really such a nuisance? Or had he perhaps somewhere along the line forgotten the point of his occupation. For surely it is to provide a service to the community - that being me. I may bring my books back a little late occasionally but it's my visits and token fines that pay his wages. The library is there for me not as a warm room in which to stick bits of paper on fly sleeves.

So, if you are reading this young man - take note - I have stamped your ticket!

Still, at least customer service is not dead in this country. Far from it in fact. I can think of plenty of great examples but it's late and I'm tired and I guess you're probably bored by now anyway! All this talk of librarians is sending me to sleep. Night folks.

Colouring in

Remember when you were a child and presented with a colouring book and a stack of crayons and pencils? What simple pleasures filling each segment with bright reds, blues and greens. And who can forget the frustration when the blue felt-tip pen ran out half way through filling in the sky!

Well, in my relentless pursuit of creativity and thanks to the inspiration of many of the cool creative 'chicas' out there in Blogland I have rediscovered this practice - with a twist!

I always struggled with painting faces - never could quite get that shading right and let's not talk about noses...

Well, dear readers allow me to let you into a little secret....

I've found a way to cheat/practice/have fun - call it what you will; it's sure working for me. Grab yourself a copy of Vogue (other style magazines are available!) and hunt out a striking pose - ideally black & white. Slap some gesso all over the shiny paper, but nice and thinly now because you still need to be able to see the shadows. Wait for the white stuff to dry then flex your fingers, fumble in your art supply treasure chest and empty your mind of pre-conceived ideas of what colour a face should be. Revisit that 6-year-old within you who happily painted a face blue just because they liked the colour or felt like it.

Now, colour in! In my first few forays into this technique I dabbled with acrylics (zip down and visit Rio), then added a spot of oil pastel and now I'm just experimenting with the pastel. For me, the point of the exercise is to really understand how that facial shading works, to experiment with colour and reawaken little Lisa. It's letting go, practicing and not being too precious. It doesn't have to be perfect, far from it. Like us all, it's just work in progress.

Wow! My first online art tutorial! I feel all grown up now!

Thanks to inspiration from Dirty Footprints (fighting the fear) and Jennyfur's Sketchbook for the bold use of colour.

Anyone recognise the pretty lady?

Monsoon season

The tropical palms waved overhead and the sunlight filtering through dappled and danced along the path like a troop of fairies on their way to the summer ball. She strolled arm in arm with her lover in blissful ignorance of the adventure that awaited.

Suddenly, something caught her eye and the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise a little. Truth be told, she had half been expecting it; after all it was the season for such an event. Like a moth to the flame she directed their otherwise meaningless amble towards the bright, shining colour and tried to control the rising excitement in her heaving breast.

Monsoon summer sale - up to 70% off. Ahh, it was pre-destined. How could she avoid the pull of what was meant to be? Her lover tried to put up a fight against the mesmeric pull that took her towards the swinging signs above the multitude of print and pattern. He was no match for the power of the Monsoon and was forced to retreat to the bench outside under the indoor palms in the shopping mall.

Inside a shower of colour - vibrant and fresh. She was drenched in texture and detailing, fighting alongside the heaving, steaming mass of other Monsoon worshippers drenched in the thrill of the chase.

Pitter patter pitter patted chimed the clothes hangers as they clashed together as each hunter fumbled through the bright but dense foliage. At last she found the treasure for which she was searching (something actually in her size) and then the river swelled by the Monsoon burst forth into a fountain of twinkling delight.

Weighed down by the silky fabric she retreated behind the velvet curtain to observe her finds in privacy. As each caressed her skin and she twirled in its reflection, she knew she had to possess it. The beauty must be hers.

Trembling she dashed to the raven-haired and bewitching smile of the attendant and handed over a small, yet dangerously powerful plastic token.

Retreating finally back into the bright white light of the path she found her lover waiting. He did not look happy. "Two minutes you said you'd be" he muttered as they continued on their journey. But his discomfort and annoyance could not dispel the magic that was held within the paper package and laughing delightedly she smiled at his perplexed yet handsome features and offered to buy him lunch.

(And yes, the dusky maiden is my likeness - with a dash of hope and imagination!)

Saturday afternoons were made for...

I'm supposed to be at home right now dabbling in a spot of gardening while boyfriend paints my house. Regrettably, we are instead ensconced in his abode as he 'suddenly remembered' that his country were playing rugby this afternoon and there was no way he was missing it - it's another 'does Bill Gates know anything about of computers' type comparison here. Not having the relevant sports channel on my more humble (cheaper) cable connection we have postponed the DIY adventure until tomorrow (when it will no doubt be raining).

It matters not though as it has given me the perfect opportunity to leave him downstairs shouting at the television while I escape upstairs to write... and what better subject to ponder on than the man himself.

Boyfriend is not from these fair white-cliffed shores originally. He comes from a wilder, open landscape where you're in danger of being nibbled by a lion while out for an afternoon stroll. Perhaps it is this survivial of the fittest way of life that fires his unbounding and undented South African loyalties - no matter how many years have gone by since he last trod the bush. As the 'Mighty Bokke' take on the Maori magic of the All Blacks he is at present almost beside himself with frustration and excitment. He can't even remain in the chair for more than a few seconds. His beer goes untouched beside him, and he yells a commentary rich with expletives up the stairs. I'm surprised that they can't actually hear him in Blomfontein but am glad for the safety of the referee that they are many thousands of miles away.

At the moment the rest of my weekend is safe. South Africa are winning (but apparently, according to my very own commentator, they should be at least a further 12 points ahead). Any kind of loss does not go down too well. A dark cloud of gloom will settle above him and follow him around for at least a week like a lost and hungry puppy dog (the fierce, rabid kind). When this happens it's usually best to creep away in silence and blow a kiss from the safety of the car.

It really is most amusing to watch and gives me hours of pleasure. He's the same with cricket though the slower pace means he does at least get a chance to sit down and rant. And we don't even want to mention football - though here it is the 'Mighty Arsenal' (as I am ordered to call them) that he worships.

We have enjoyed many a discussion on sporting patriotism and I find the cultural differences between us a source of both entertainment and interest. South Africans never give up. Defeat is not in their vocabulary. They will keep going until the last man standing. Much as it pains me to admit it, he may have a point.

If you compare some of the lack-lustre performances of English sporting sides you have to wonder if much of the team are not motivated more by the bank balance than the pride of wearing their country's shirt. Perhaps after writing this praise of the determination of his sporting heroes he will forgive me for dragging him round the shops this morning (and a most fruitful shopping expedition it was - but that, dear readers, as they say is another story)!

Late edit: just noticed that this was my 100th post! Feeling rather chuffed with sticking ability to this blogging malarky!