In the kind of story you've heard from me before, with slight variations, when I woke up on that Friday, no bookmarks, and no intention of making any. Zero.
I got up, exercised, prepped some food, scrubbed the downstairs bathroom, met with friends for playgroup, went to the library to collect two books on reserve.
Two books: different authors, different genres, different settings, different cover artists.
Same color palette on their covers.
And me with no bookmarks in that color palette.
A day later, it was as though I'd invented two new countries and put them on the map. I certainly traveled somewhere wholly new while creating—I picked up the tools of my trade and a piece of 3x6" cardstock, started painting, and moved through that tiny 18-square-inch portal out of the universe in which I usually reside into a fully different universe just as vast.
And returned with souvenirs of startling beauty.
I'll feature one today, the other tomorrow.
|book from library|
1.5x6"; acrylic, India ink, collage, and oil pastel on card stock
|match made in heaven|