Altering the Art, Changing the Inner Dialogue
a guest post by Holly Jahangiri
My sister in law brought her scrapbooks to share with us, and I immediately felt inspired to run out and buy all kinds of supplies: papers, pens, glue, acid-free paper, markers, metal fixings – you name it, I had a little voice in the back of my head urging me on, telling me, “That would be SO cool!”
What that little voice didn’t know was, scrapbooking isn’t that different from writing. Writing isn’t that different from any other creative outlet. As soon as the inner critic rears its ugly head to say, “You’re mediocre, at best,” you’re done for. Among writers, this is known as writer’s block. Among scrappers, it’s scrapper’s block.
Digital Scrapbook Place had a nice article that covered some of the most common causes – they vary widely, apparently, and include boredom, a sense of disconnectedness from the scrapbooking community, loss of focus, and being overwhelmed. For me, it all comes down to feelings of inadequacy, coupled with the dreadful taint of perfectionism.
Nothing I did in scrapbooking came out looking the way it had in my head. I perused layout after layout online; each was more professional looking and intimidating than the last. Even the other voice, the one that said, “Who are you doing this for, anyway, and why do you care?” wasn’t drowning out the nagging critic who said, “Your work is amateurish, at best. Just stick those photos in a nice album and be done with it.”
Fortunately for me, I rebelled against the horrid creature that lurks inside the caves of the mind.
The only cure for inadequacy is to hone the skills that are lacking, or to learn new ones and shine at those. I was trying to turn my scrapbooks into glossy, magazine layouts – slick, professional, and ultimately, impersonal. And it wasn’t ringing true to me, so the inner critic was rearing its ugly head and smacking me down. Just as I was about to give up, I asked myself: “Which is worse? Messing up all these beautiful papers and embellishments or letting them sit in a container unused?”
And I went out and bought a cardboard box, some tissue paper, a jar of Mod Podge, some paintbrushes – and gave myself permission to mess everything up. About two days later, I had an interestingly artistic box for holding stationery and pens that later sold for about $50 at auction during a writing conference. Talk about a shot of confidence…
Next, I tackled “altered books.” I had no idea what I was doing. However, given my success with the box and my desire to remain enthusiastically unintimidated by those with greater artistic skills and talents, I decided not to look at examples of others’ work, not to study technique – in short, to wing it.
I ended up with this:
Basically, it’s a really cool book with interesting memories and experimental art tucked between its pages. It’s also a book I can barely get closed! I learned something: When you make an altered art book, cut out some of the pages, because your artwork – even if it’s just tissue or paint – will gradually increase the thickness of the book beyond what its bindings are designed to hold. You could also glue the pages together and cut out a rectangular section in the middle to create a container for small treasures.
I also learned that the end result of this was actually better as I relinquished control and approached the project like a child might – unafraid to roll up my sleeves, dig in, and make a mess. I tried papers of various textures and thicknesses; I tried various sealants. I used copies of photos – not originals – and gave myself permission, almost a mandate, to ruin things.
In the process, I rediscovered what every child instinctively knows: Creativity and art should be fun – not painful, awkward, embarrassing, or competitive. Art should bring joy. It doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks, but it’s when you let go and stop worrying so much that you produce things others like and find intriguing, anyway!
