Visual Journal

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A few weeks ago, while navigating an internet rabbit hole, I came across a week’s worth of visual journal prompts.

1. Breakfast

2. Outfit

3. Book

4. Pet

5. Place

6. Quiet

7. Bedtime (skipped)

I enjoyed the exercise but probably won’t seek out prompts again.

These pages aren’t for anyone or anything. They go on a shelf and collect dust. It’s not so much the thing but the doing that I find valuable.

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Sometimes when I’m in a funk it helps to manifest my feelings by pinning them down on paper. The brain doesn’t always make sense. It’s ok if the work doesn’t either.

Still seems to help.

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Tom Waits’ guttural growls and out of tune guitars have never sounded so good -

Is this what nostalgia feels like?

Below the line are two more journal pages and some edited copy that didn’t make the final cut. If that sor

I turned the feature on from the jump but have yet to actually offer anything in return besides my silent appreciate.

Here are some prompts for next week

1. Drinking

2. Eating

3. Playing

4. Doing

5. Facing

6. Falling

7. Smashing

And entirely different post about constraints and studio spaces. May or may not do anything with that one. Pictures and words and audio and video. Links. References.

Is that the sound of the tape deck eating another 10 dollar cassette or just Tom being Tom?

Today there are a few extra journal pages below the line today. One is about a recent hike in Rocky and the other is about an interesting bird that can be found before dawn on the trails around here.

I like it when you say B-E-D.

When Wednesday rolls around I sit down to write something to share with the world. Usually I have some vague sense of what it might be about. Perhaps I’ve been mulling something over in my head for a few days.

The equipment required to play them takes up way too much space and introduces miles of random wires and power cords. The whole setup is pretty janky and if you’re not careful it’ll just eat whatever you feed it anyways.

It’s been over a year since I started publishing DoPHS. Long enough to garner a small handful of financial backers and for several of those subscriptions to roll over. I’ve never really known how to quantify what it is exactly that I do here. Money and art have always been an odd mix. It’s gotten easier as I’ve gotten older and learned that there’s more to making than just the physical act of it. Time and energy are both very real and very finite. I suppose that’s worth something.