art
Artistic, musical, creative, and entertaining topics in Journal's workplace sphere.
Inspired
To me, crafting requires inspiration. I like to be inspired. Fortunately for me, inspiration comes easily. For example, I love color: the colors I see everyday in nature, or fabrics, my dog, the sky on a clear night in the city. I just really love color and it has inspired me to begin many hobbies. I'm an avid knitter. I sew a little, I embroider, crochet, weave, cross stitch, if it involves fabric, I have probably tried it.
By Lara Osborne5 years ago in Journal
The Evolution of Equitable Creativity
Phase 1: Imagination as such Creativity lives in me since childhood. I learned the societal value of money. I created another world to assist my imagination in poverty. Building pillow forts, paper doll houses, used household fabrics for create an electric fan cooling tent and other items available to me at the public housing and low-income apartments.
By Shaleita Neal, Ed.S5 years ago in Journal
Being a production designer for a short film
A few months ago I was chosen to be the production designer for a short film written by a student and this is the most interesting and creative experience I’ve been going through since the pandemic swallowed our lives. My role is to create a whole new world with unique, meaningful and particular costumes and locations. I couldn’t be happier to be part of this as I can fully express my creativity and I can dedicate this part of my life to something I love doing.
By Alessia Mavakala5 years ago in Journal
Life Made Of Collage
don’t want this to be a ‘poor me’ story, however, I feel a little background is necessary in order to connect to the craft-life I have today. As a child, I was always hyper-emotional and scared of trying new things, as well as being super withdrawn and reserved (this would later be diagnosed as ADHD in my adult life). I was terrified of showing my true self to others, in fear that they would laugh or make fun of me. This lack of confidence impacted my social life, and I’d often find myself having trouble making friends or being ostracised for being the ‘weird kid’. Someone who pioneered my love of the craft was my grandma, Patricia. My grandma always told me to ‘believe it can be done’; she always wanted me to achieve my best whilst having fun doing it. I’d 100% say that this woman was the most influential on who I am today, as her passion for life has inspired me to push the boundaries and not be afraid of new experiences. Through craft, she taught me lessons in self-expression and the power of believing in myself, and my craft.
By Amber Cunningham5 years ago in Journal
My Fiskars Scissors Are Always Open to the Next Project
I can still vividly recall standing on my tip toes on the chilly hardwood floors of the old farmhouse I grew up in, reaching into a metal sewing box and fishing around for my favorite pair of scissors, some thread, and a few stray mismatched buttons. Once in my hand, I’d go upstairs and disappear into my room for hours. Growing up in a rural area, I was far removed from the colorful and mesmerizing aisles of large fabric stores. Instead, I had to rely on my own creativity to plan my earliest quilts. At 6 years old, I remember repurposing some old flannel bed sheets into my first simple patchwork quilt, not for a person, but for my favorite doll. I ran my hands along the soft and fuzzy pink fabric as I cut, loving the textures and softness of the art of sewing. At that age, I only had tiny scissors and a single needle to sew by hand. The little doll quilt took hours, but that did not matter. As the quilt grew, so did a passion that I would embrace for life.
By Susan L Medved5 years ago in Journal
My Orange Scissors
I still have my first pair of scissors. I don't remember when I received them, but it must be before my earliest memories, because I do remember when they were taken away as a punishment for cutting my sister's hair. My parents put them in the top drawer of their tall dresser, much higher than I could reach, and I remember looking up to where they were, desperately wanting them back.
By Anastasia Karel5 years ago in Journal
The Forgotten Art Form of Papercutting
I’m a storyteller. My stories consist of words but I’ve always been drawn to visual art, even though I can’t draw or paint, or at least not well. I wanted to learn a new way of storytelling when I randomly saw an ad for papercutting. This is it, I thought. A new way to explore telling a story without having to draw or paint. I can use my hands and imagination and touch something other than a keyboard. A few videos later, a "papercutter" was born.
By Andrea Jardine5 years ago in Journal
Where are the good scissors?
“Where are the good scissors?” Growing up, this was a question my mother repeated often, growing more frustrated as my sisters and I got older. The “good scissors” differed from the numerous other pairs of scissors in the house as they were sharp and capable of reliably cutting through materials. Although the “good scissors” belonged in the cutlery drawer beside the stove, they were most often found anywhere else. When my mother would buy a new pair of good scissors to replace an old pair that had been lost – by us – we would promise her that once we had finished using them, we would return them promptly to the drawer where they belonged. We did not.
By BQ Boudreau5 years ago in Journal
My Tiny Sock Snowmen
I am a Neonatal ICU Nurse. Retired now, I worked for nearly 40 years in a level 3 Neonatal ICU. We were the tertiary center for the State, where the sickest of newborns were sent to receive care. We cared for infants with heart defects, surgical emergencies, inborn errors of metabolism, but the bulk of our population were premature infants. My heart was especially drawn to the extremely premature infants, otherwise known as "micro preemies". Imagine if you will, cupping a tiny life that fits neatly between your hands to gently turn them. Like a tiny bird fluttering as you contain their arms and legs to decrease stress.As you can imagine, this was an extremely stressful job, despite my love for it. And I frequently brought that stress home.
By Susanna Rhodes5 years ago in Journal
