I was thinking about that recently while looking through one of my earlier handmade junk journals—a soft, wonderfully grungy book filled with birds, blue and gray papers, botanical impressions, rust marks, and some of the techniques I was just beginning to explore.
It is very different from some of the journals I make now.
And I think that may be one of the things I like most about it.
When the Materials Begin the Story
The cover of this journal began with something particularly humble: a padded Amazon packaging envelope.
I combined the packaging material with two layers of cardstock to create a cover that is softer than the covers on many of my later journals. The padded material also gives it a slightly crinkly, crunchy sound when handled—one of those tactile little details that photographs simply can't capture.
The outside was sealed for additional protection, which deepened the original brown color of the packaging and gave it an aged appearance.
An upcycled cotton ribbon wraps around the finished journal, while a simple three-hole pamphlet stitch holds the pages together.
Blue, Gray and the Marks Left by Nature
The colors inside became an important part of this journal's personality.
Blue and gray travel through the book alongside warm coffee-stained browns and naturally aged neutrals. Purchased bird imagery and decorative ephemera appear among the pages, helping carry that quiet palette from one section to another.
But some of my favorite pages weren't created with printed designs at all.
Several are eco-printed papers made using bougainvillea flowers. The flowers were pressed against the paper and heated, allowing the plant material to leave behind soft gray impressions and ghostlike botanical shapes.
They aren't precise botanical illustrations. Nature decided where the marks would appear and exactly what they would look like.
That unpredictability is part of their beauty.
Other papers were dyed with blueberries and coffee, adding another layer of natural variation to the book.
There are also pages created by placing rusty objects against paper and allowing the rust to leave its own marks behind.
I love the way these processes give paper a history before a single word has been written on it.
Looking Back at Earlier Work
This was one of my earlier journals, and I can see that when I look through it now.
My work has changed. I've learned new techniques, experimented with different bindings and materials, and gradually added more of my own painted artwork to some of my newer journals.
But I don't think that makes these earlier books less meaningful.
Quite the opposite.
They show the experimenting.
The what happens if I try this?
The willingness to put a rusty object on a piece of paper just to see what kind of mark it might leave, or to discover what happens when flowers, berries, coffee, old packaging, paper, and thread all find their way into the same book.
Creative work doesn't arrive fully formed. It grows through all those experiments.
A Place for Another Story
The finished journal measures approximately 8½ × 5½ inches and contains 51 pages, with pockets, tucked ephemera, dyed papers, decorative pages, and quieter spaces waiting for someone else to continue the story.
Many of the removable pieces are held with paperclips that I altered to give them an aged, rusted appearance, adding another little detail to the worn and weathered feeling of the book.
The printed bird images and much of the decorative ephemera came from purchased digital designs and craft materials. I always think that distinction is important: the printed artwork isn't my original artwork. My part of the story is in selecting, altering, dyeing, assembling, layering, binding, and combining all of these different materials into one handmade book.
There is something rather appropriate about a bird journal being made this way.
Bits and pieces gathered from different places. Something discarded here, something beautiful discovered there. Natural materials leaving their marks. Little treasures collected and carried back to become part of a new home.
Perhaps junk journal makers and birds have a little more in common than I realized.
This particular bird journal is available in my shop, where you can also see additional photographs and the video flip-through for a closer look through its pages.
Whether this journal eventually becomes someone's writing journal, memory keeper, collage book, or simply a handmade object to enjoy, I like knowing that an earlier chapter of my own creative journey will become the beginning of someone else's.
And perhaps that is one of the loveliest things about making books.
We finish making them—but their stories don't necessarily end with us.
