First Junk Journal completed

For the last year, I’ve been junk journaling. Taking stickers and pamphlets and labels, receipts, junk mail and photos and making pages with them. Some are meaningful. Others are silly. There’s plenty of art museums we’ve visited. There’s plays on words and images. 

This has been a therapeutic practice for me. The journal asks nothing of me. It doesn’t need to be “good”. It’s not a fine art piece to hold up and say look at what I made. 

It’s a practice to keep myself sane. To vent. To explore. To make something with my hands. It’s a way to remember where I went and what I did. It’s a physical manifestation of the passage of time. 

It is not a story. It does not make sense. It exists because it feels good. And I am excited to start my new book.