“All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.”
Pages from the hardback I'm altering into an art journal called the noticing journal.
For this page, I focused on hunting through my various zip-loks of paper journal fodder, my little decorated sucrets box of stamps, washi tapes, etc searching for things that were orange, gold or yellow. Postage stamps, bits of chinese papers, bits of handpainted papers, clippings from magazines, washi tape, tissue paper, a photograph of the faerie house that hangs in the japanese maple just off the back porch, fodder collected at places like post offices and banks, pages from old books. I painted the pages of the book first (no bothering with gesso), "built" the grid as I found stuff for the pages, edged with neocolors and colored pencils. I don't write on most of my pages... it used to bother me, taunt me... like why aren't you writing anything, can the page be finished without words... and yes, it most certainly can. It is whatever it turns out to be.