I'm Glad You Came

Please meet my mostly-done inspiration journal. I started working on this guy about a year ago, as my young students were making similar journals in our Art + Writing class. Working off a series of kid-friendly topics, I designed weekly assignments that encouraged us to explore what inspires us through writing, drawing, collaging and other forms of art. 

I love to do projects alongside my students; not only do I have fun, but it's a great way to wordlessly guide their work while allowing me to riff off their creative mojo. Unfortunately, during class I am often so busy answering the ongoing pleas for help..."Mrs. Streicher! Mrs. Streicher!"...that I don't get much of my own work accomplished. 

So I worked on this journal at home. Sadly, summer came before I finished it, and life moved me on in different directions. Now that I have it before me again, I'm inspired to share it with you and then tackle the rest of the assignments and finish him up before another summer begins!

 To make the covers of the book, I relied on a favorite pastime of my childhood: looking through magazines and finding pictures of things that I love. My mother had this same fascination before me, and I remember that she had a special box full of pages ripped from magazines that she had seen and loved. We would look through it together, talking about each picture, sorting them into piles this way and that. I've seen fit to take this interest to the next level by cutting up the pages and gluing my beloved images into pleasing arrangements. 

As you can see in the top photo, I am inspired by memories, skiing and cooking. (See the tiny handwritten labels?) You may also infer that books, stacks of interesting boxes, and white-on-red polka dots do it for me as well. 

The first topic we explored in this journal was the seasons. I'm a fan of books that have funky little half-pages, tabs, pockets, fold-outs and other structural anomalies. So I watercolor painted a half-page with the word "seasons" to introduce the category.

Flipping over the half-page, here is a full view of the first page. As you can see, it shows a little collage of fall-inspired images and words, and across the top, you see four half-circle tabs, with the names of the seasons. But notice the little rectangle of white-on-red polka dots? It's actually a tiny handle. Grab hold and pull up on the page...

...and watch what happens. What appeared to be a single page is actually the front of a series of accordion style pages, and the tabs spread out to indicate the particular season illustrated on each fold.

When you flip the whole thing over, there is a second series of collages on the back side, corresponding again to the tabs at the tops of the pages.

 Once the panels are folded back into place, this is how it looks from the back side.

Using preprinted images for an art project is a good way to start my students' (and my) creative juices flowing. Now that our imaginations were bursting with visual thoughts about each season, our next challenge was to create our own drawings. I used Prismacolor pencils to make these sketches of three flowers and a pumpkin.

The brilliant colors and complementary pairs inspired me to do this painting of watercolor squares. Watercolor paints are one of the most rebellious and unforgiving materials in the world of art media, and I have a weird obsession about forcing them into strict geometric regimes. 

On the right side of this spread, you will see a pocket page that holds a smaller book, wrapped round with green ribbon. The cover of the book is a drawing of colorful poppies, which were inspired by the beautiful art of Ling Chang. For some reason, I was compelled to use the floral drawing on the front cover of the mini book, and then made a striped piece in corresponding colors for the back cover. Both the front and back are watercolors with Prismacolor pencil work over the top.

Sadly, the inside of the book is still blank. I'll work on that.

Here's a collage of the notoriously difficult-to-spell names of the months, and on the right, we made lists of our favorite words to describe each of the seasons. 

Another watercolor painting of squares. This one reflects my interest in the colors of spring; I love the way the pale greens, watery blues and earthy browns give way to the vivid yellows, pinks and reds of spring blooms. 

On the right begins a section of seasonal photographs that I have collected over the years. Gathered mostly from old-school mail-order catalogs, these babies have been in my picture stash for years and I decided it was time to give them a proper home in my journal. But as beautiful as the images are, each page is tainted by a sprinkling of text that, to me, kind of ruins the impact of the picture. I can be fussy like that.

So I hit upon the solution of copying our little writing assignments, quotes and bits of poems onto scraps of paper and gluing them over the offending words and titles. The little boxes and rectangles may look a bit jarring to your eye, but I am very happy with the finished look.

These pages range quite a bit in shape and size; rather than trying to cut them to a standard shape, I just left them in their irregular glory. Some are funny little half-pages, others are fold-outs. Their quirky shapes create an element of surprise, which is a nice quality for a journal to have. 

 Next time, I'll share what I've done in the section on holidays...and then it will be time for me to get inspired to finish the book!

This song will surely help. It pumps me up.

A Free Lunch?

Ever since I watched two movies about colorful balloons of hope..and wrote about them here...I've been thinking of a certain video. It's been around for a quite a few years, it's actually a gorgeous commercial and it's one of the first videos I ever fell in love with.

It's bouncy, colorful and full of hope.

Watch it now and if it doesn't put a smile on your face, I will buy you lunch.

My Tiny Corner of the Planet

On this sunny Sunday, I finally worked up the nerve to face the mad chaos that my backyard had become. Let's be honest - the weeds were taking over and I was not looking forward to bringing a stop to their rein of terror. 

But today was Earth Day. Time to reclaim my little bit of earth. 

So I went out and faced those weeds and yanked 'em all out. Well, maybe 83% of them. But as I worked, I rediscovered some happy little garden places that I want to share with you.

This big green pot is Ranger's water dish. Well, during the summer I add a little fountain  and try to pretend that it belongs to me. But the truth is that this is Ranger's favorite drinking spot, and I could never deny that little angel.  

Yes, we have name tags in our pots. My youngest likes to name our tomato plants and  made these super duper laminated name tags to keep track of who's who. Those are strawberry plants in front of them, and a stone painted as a ladybug, which I made with my students last year.

This is a tiny little garden with a tiny little path running through it, on the side of the house. 

Here's the same path from another angle. It's a perfect place for little girls to play pretend games.

My youngest made this for me; she wrapped a length of flexible copper tubing around this big shiny marble and we hung it from a branch in a tree. It twists and turns in the breezes and looks quite dazzling in the sunlight.

Yes, I am a sucker for red tulips. 

This garden has a ways to go before it hits its summer glory, but the mobile keeps my eyes busy while I'm waiting.

Hot pink azalea bush, getting ready to put on a show.

This is a little fairy house, built by my fourth. It's in an ongoing state of improvement.

Blue forget-me-nots and red coral bells. I like flowers with interesting names.

More red tulips? Yes, please. We made these mosaic step stones a few years ago; the little bits and pieces keep falling out but they still hold their own.

I know my yard isn't anything special. There are countless gardens more grand and glorious than mine. But on this Earth Day, I find myself feeling very grateful for my tiny corner of the planet and the lovely things that grow here.

Up, Up, Here We Go, Go..Where We Stop, Nobody Knows, Knows

Last night, I watched two movies. I did not plan to watch them together; it was a completely serendipitous event. Both movies had been loaned to me under completely different circumstances; my only motivation was to watch them so I could return them to their rightful owners. But after watching them, I found that they fit together perfectly to teach me an important lesson. 

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First I watched Night Crossing, a movie that is being passed around by my history students' families. As I explained here, we have been studying the post-World War II partitioning of Germany, and this little-known Disney film tells a true story from that era. Two daring East German families attempt to escape their life of captivity by building their own hot air balloon and flying away to freedom in West Germany. 

Spoiler alert: it ends happy.

Though I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised at the scary and tense moments at several points in the movie. It was filmed in 1982, and like many other family-friendly movies of that age, it started out with a schmaltzy vibe that kinda put me off. But despite these few dated touches, the movie rang true and scared the life out of me in its most important moments.

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If you'd like to read a more objective and thorough summary of the movie, you can check out IMDB or Wikipedia.

But for a true taste of what Night Crossing has to offer, watch this video. It shows the first ten minutes and leaves off in a scene of mounting tension; definitely recommend you keep going

And if you don't have ten minutes, just watch the first 1:30 to see a short montage of historic clips that summarize the situation in East Germany during this era. It's good stuff.

Although Night Crossing definitely ends on a high note, it is a somber movie. As soon as I finished it, I felt the need to lighten up my Friday night mood, so immediately I popped this little French children's film into the DVD player and hit play.  

Le Ballon Rouge, as originally titled in French, won many prestigious awards after its 1956 release and is widely acclaimed to this day. I saw it as a child and found it mystifying; when my third-born mentioned that she has watched it in her French class, I decided to revisit the old classic and see how it was holding up.

Told through beautiful images accompanied by an expressive musical score but almost no dialogue, this is the love story of a little boy and the red balloon he finds. Their adventures play out on the streets of an ancient Parisian neighborhood; the colors, textures and ambiance of the film will feast your eyes. More than a simple prop or even a stylish metaphor, the red balloon becomes a saucy little character with at least as much charm and wit as her human co-star.

IMDB or Wikipedia

This movie also ends on a high note. Watch the ending and you'll see that I mean that in more ways than one. But honestly, just watch the whole thing. It's only 35 minutes long and it's right here. You'll be glad you did.

{Please ignore the ridiculous intro - it won't last long.}

How completely shocked and surprised I was to find that both of my movies ended with the image of bold, beautiful, colorful balloons carrying people away from their old lives of sadness toward an exciting if unknown future!

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What I draw from these movies is a valuable reminder that life is about taking chances and trusting that there is always hope for a better future. Rather than let our fears hold us back, we must dream our dreams and allow the winds of fate to lift us up and carry us up, up and away.

If anyone wants to offer me a ride in a hot air balloon, I will definitely say yes. 

Tulip Heaven

The other afternoon, I spent more than an hour driving off into the countryside. I wasn't sure exactly where I was going but I wandered around till I found what I was looking for.. a farmer's field. Leaving my car on the side of the road, I went for a walk in that field. It was full of mud.

Also puddles. Muddy mud puddles.

Not small puddles either. Large ones that, in some places, blocked my path. One puddle was so huge that I was forced to squeeze myself up against a barbed wire fence as I tried to slip by.

But it was worth my effort. Because on the other side of that barbed wire was a sight to behold.

Fields full of brilliant tulips in riotous bloom.  In fact, I was surrounded by them on all sides.

The Skagit Valley, about an hour north of my Seattle-area home, is a vast flood plain with perfect conditions for the business of growing tulip bulbs. Luckily for the rest of us, tulip farmers must allow the bulbs to bloom before they are ready to be harvested and sold. So each April, when the sun warms the soil to just the right point, this earth explodes with color.

There are no words to properly describe the experience of visiting these fields. Just look at the pictures and image the sweetly scented air, the warmish sun and cool breeze, the clouds fluttering across the sky, and the groups of people scattered through the fields, laughing, exploring, and taking photos. 

As my visit neared its end, and I thought my eyes had feasted till they could feast no more, I came upon a surprise. In a remote corner of the fields, I found a big red tractor with muddy wheels.

Attached to the back of the tractor was a simple open cart. And tossed on the wooden planks of that cart was a small pile of tulips - leaves, stems and blossoms - that had been pulled from the ground.

Poor things were just lying there, tossed willy-nilly into a heap, sadly left to die. But somehow, to me, they seemed the most beautiful thing I had seen all day.