One of the most important days of my life, so far, was my first day in a college class called "Theater Creativity" at Whittier College. When we arrived in class, the instructor told us we had 24 hours to choose a journal book, and we had six weeks to fill every single page of that book. Our grade in the course was dependent upon the integrity with which we filled the book.

This may not seem like a big deal. . .and I'm sure that there were people in the course that filled their books with nonsense just to be done with it, but I took on the challenge and I discovered a part of myself I didn't know existed.

That first book was part journal, part trip book, part scrapbook. It was filled with my ramblings, pictures pasted from magazines, notes from friends, sketches and stickers and ticket stubs. Along the way, I learned an amazing amount about myself. At the end of the day, I was in awe of the creativity that I was able to focus into the book in that six weeks.

Creativity - the act of creation of any kind, is tremendously powerful stuff! In the years since that college class, I have continued to create these books. I do not put myself under any time pressures - some books have been completed in two months, some in two years, but for the people in my life the books are part of me.

When old friends come over, they want to look at "the books" which are as much of a chronicle of their lives as my own. The journals contain details of first dates, pictures from photo booths, inside jokes that now make no sense, funny things that were said, and pages and pages of my own thoughts about these events.

Painting and Collage cover of art journal, Book 29

Art Journal cover, Vol 26

When I was about 25 years old, I began to separate my writing journals from my art journals. Reading the early journals, which are open to anyone to read, my heart and soul is found in them. Embarrassingly personal thoughts were written in them without thought of who might read them. As I grew older, my need for privacy increased - or perhaps I grew less confident about my life.

For a while my books had become (Twenty and Twenty-one) more like scrapbooks than expressions of creativity. A few years ago, I got back to doing true Art Journals, filled with collages, memories, poems, and artistic rambles. I find that I am happiest in my life when I am consciously recording what happens through creativity - and writing. My later journals have included preliminary sketches and paintings as I work out ideas that I will use in my work as a designer. This gives me an ongoing journal of my work, as well as a permanent record of my progression as an artist.

Because I have been keeping these journals since I was 18 years old, they literally tell the story of my adult life through my art, rambles, and memories.