I walked away from my undergrad program in Graphic Design unsure if I mastered anything other than passing grades for all my classes in design. Though I did feel like I got the gist of the lessons learned from nearly all my classes in proportion to my personal interest, I felt some angst knowing that there was still so much left unanswered from this one course that I struggled most, OIL PAINTING.

Of all things, I was not a natural at painting.

I remembered how a classmate showed off his beautiful self-portrait project and this amazing assignment of painting a white sheet in class one day. And all I could recall is the struggle staring at my own blank canvas wondering why the nose was not matching the rest of my face, and spending hours trying to get the right shades of magenta, cyan, and yellow just right before deciding to start over because my vision kept shifting under the fluorescent lamps above.

Just blur your eyes, he said. How does crossing my eyes help me with anything? My painting instructor was rather younger and new to the art faculty. He taught mostly by waving his palette knife over my subtle imperfections saying few words beyond: “try this”, and “do you see that?” I got a passing grade from that class and was so happy to retire my baby food jar full of gamsol, and hauling my bulky supplies up and down the 3rd-floor stairs.

I was so displeased with all of my work from that class that I stowed it away in a dark closet only to toss it out after paring down my closets. But something about not doing so well in my weakest class still fired me up inside years later to make attempts at trying my hand at it again.

The search for the perfect journal.

I wanted to step into the baby pool and ease my way back into trying to paint. There was no way I’d feel super motivated to go hard and buy oil paints, an easel, and fit my own canvas frames. So I watered down my needs and decided to go simple, and start with watercolor and acrylic paints and a journal that I could travel easily with. Hours of searching led me to figure out what my own preferences were for the right kind of journal I wanted.

I imagined being able to take it out quickly from my bag if I was out sitting in public whether I was eating or relaxing, or had a flash of imagination and needed to get my thoughts downs without being overwhelmed by the idea of filling a big white blank page. I narrowed down my requirements to something specific: a black, hardcover, square journal with high-quality watercolor paper.

I wanted something small, portable, and inexpensive.

One of my favorite projects in my undergrad senior portfolio class was to make and bind our own books as a way to present our work. It was a pleasing assignment for me because it allowed me a break from staring into our computer screens for constant design projects. Any chance to work with my hands was a chance to slow down myself and my racing thoughts.

I hadn’t assembled a book in years, but I knew the next best place to relearn anything was on YouTube. I found a few new favorite videos with the keyword search “make and bind my own book”, and was easily down a rabbit hole of As a (creative) packrat, I hunted through bins of my supplies and discovered that I still had plenty of leftover materials that I’ve hung on to that could prove to create something new that would meet my own specs.

The steps to assemble the book.

Materials: acid-free matboard, bookbinding glue, needle and thread, bookbinding tape, Xacto knife, self-healing cutting mat, watercolor paper

Tips: Consider the current size of your watercolor paper pad to help make the most out of your cuts and folds.

Musings

Posts tagged with watercolor

Creating My Own Custom Watercolor Sketchbook