Hi I’m Keila. Perpetual weird art kid. I write zines and articles to help you build a sustainable creative practice.

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I was broke as sh*t when I went on my favorite art dates.

I aimlessly wandered downtown Austin with no money to spend. At dusk on the Congress Bridge, 1.5 million bats poured into the sunset to feast on mosquitoes over the lake. I was exactly what I needed. It did not cost a thing.

If you’re unfamiliar, the concept of art dates is from the book “The Artist’s Way.” They are solo (if possible) excursions meant to feed your creative mind. This book has a cult-like following here on Substack.

On these excursions, I like to put on a pair of artist glasses. These are metaphorical glasses you can put on whenever. Guess what? They are free to wear. They slow me down enough to notice.

When wearing them, the world becomes a place of overheard conversations, textures, new plants, symbols, and questions I probably wouldn't ask.

It’s pretty amazing how much inspiration can be found by simply noticing what’s around you.

Here are some of my favorite places to wear my nifty artist glasses. Also, how I use these glasses to fuel the work.

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Library

My favorite place to go is the library, even though I exclusively read digital books. Walking in and smelling the books is intoxicating. My partner says I’m a nerd, but I don’t care.

Particularly, I like to go to the non-fiction section. It’s fun to browse books about weird hobbies, cooking, travel, gardening, and just notice what catches my eye.

Not only do these books have lovely photos, layouts, and illustrations to get inspiration from, but they can lead you down rabbit holes.

These make your interests more well-rounded, which makes your art be more well-rounded.

Recently, I saw a book with an illustrated cover I liked about Vegetarian East Asian cooking. This led me down a rabbit hole of tasty ways of eating natural foods, which led me to attend a free foraging event (also at the library). Now I’m literally finding food in my backyard to mix with tasty noodle dishes.

I found that some of the best inspiration doesn't come from looking at more art. It comes from being more interested in what’s around you.

Natural Spaces

Don’t sleep on a nature preserve or park visitor center. These places usually have information about what lives and grows there. No visitor center? No problem. Do a little Google search of the flora and fauna in the area. Nothing crazy. See if you can spot the rare mushroom that only grows this time of year. Flip over logs to see a beetle that is munching.

I like to go out to the preserve and draw while hiking. Let’s be real, most of the time I’m making sure my kid doesn't eat a fistful of gravel.

If my hands are full, I’ll take photos. Later I’ll draw a cool bone I found, glue a leaf in my visual diary, identify a mushroom, write about a strange seed pod and what it could grow. Sometimes observing and collecting is enough.

People Watching

It’s so fun to be a little creep and watch people. Particularly listening to what they say, drawing them, or writing about them.

Every stanger has a deep inner life. Sometimes I’ll catch a sentence, a facial expression, or a tender moment. I like to documet them to spark ideas.

Good free places to do this include town centers, downtown areas, bus stops, train stations, or even a mall food court. You could find yourself waiting at the doctor’s office and end up having a spontaneous art date by drawing the woman snoozing while she waits. Witnessing a mom read to her kids and how they look at her like she is everything.

In my experience, most people don’t even acknowledge that I'm drawing them. If they do, this might be their first time being drawn. There is some dignity in that. You are also free to look at whatever you want.

Observational walks

If all else fails and you are completely strapped for cash and time, take a 10-minute walk wearing your artist glasses. Don’t feel like walking? Find a square meter spot to notice. In the book “The Forest Unseen: A Year's Watch in Nature,” the author observes just a square meter of forest and has enough to write a whole book! You honestly don’t need a lot.

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List the things you see, draw them, write about how they make you feel, pretend you are tiny living in that crack in the sidewalk. How did that crack even get there? Let your mind wander to strange places.

Buy the expensive journal, art supplies, or inspiring books if it brings you joy.

Don’t forget your greatest art too is free. You have the power to put on your glasses at any time. All you need is to tune in and see what you can observe. Often that’s where the inspiration begins.

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I’m Keila, a perpetual weird art kid. I share collage, art journaling, and musings to help you build a joyful, sustainable creative practice. Glad to have you here.

Untitled Artwork Zine is a collection of collages. I use these collages to tell truths and show up on the page how I cannot show up in my everyday life.

Why is it called Untitled Artwork Zine? These are made both digitally and physically. I assemble the zine digitally. When you look at the folder filled with the art before it’s laid out, it’s all called Untitled_Artwork.

Signing off,

K

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Hi I’m Keila. Perpetual weird art kid. I write zines and articles about building and maintaining a sustainable creative practice.

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👽 Just a heads up, this zine is writing-heavy. I’ll show you the zine, and you can read the content under the pictures. 👽

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It’s embarrassing how many creative journeys I’ve found myself stuck on. Endlessly trying to make my creative work something that wasn’t because I felt that was what I should do. For a while, it was clean, flat, designerly illustrations, then making work that would sell in markets, then insanely photorealistic work that showcased technical skill. I don’t even want to think about the awkward DeviantArt pieces that are floating around somewhere in the bowels of the internet.

I by no means regret the work that I’ve done over the years. I’m in the camp that making something is better than making nothing. I chose to do work like that mostly because that’s what I thought I needed to do to be an artist. Whatever that means to me at that point in my life. It does break my heart to think about how I never sat down to notice or question those rules that dominated my creative life. I never thought about who the person is handing out that validation or permission. Why is this work more about how it’s perceived versus how it makes me feel while I’m making it?

Where do we pick up the rules on what our creative practice should look like? I think about the endlessly aesthetic art desk photos I’ve consumed online. The endless polished work I’ve seen on social feeds. The endless amount of “habits of successful artists” content I’ve read. Thinking “that’s what I need to be doing”. Let’s be real, it’s hard in a society that constantly tells you what you should be. Our everyday life is inundated with advertising selling you something to make you whole. On top of that, it’s tricky because some of these ideas we form go on subconsciously.

I’ve learned that we hold ourselves back by not questioning the rules we put on our creative practice. In fact, some of these stipulations we put on ourselves don’t even make sense when we dissect them. For example, you can go to a museum and find yourself thinking, “I can be a great painter if I paint like Van Gogh. Obviously, his paintings sell for millions of dollars. That means success, right?” You go get the Van Gogh paint set, all the books, and spend years trying to paint like him to make the big bucks. You may not realize that he definitely sold one painting before he died for about 80 US dollars.

We go through life picking up rules we put on ourselves. Maybe in school, an old art teacher told you that anime isn’t art, that poems have rhyme, or that you have to follow specific rules to make an A on your creative project. It’s the worst when I hear “I’m not creative at all” knowing they never give themselves permission to create anything. I think to myself, “I wonder where they picked up that thought?”

By the time we are adults, we are carrying around so much baggage. Sometimes, we fail to realize how weighed down we are. The creative journey is like backpacking through the woods. All the mental models that shape who we are go into our backpacks. By mental models, I mean internal representations of our surroundings that shape what we think reality is. The keyword is internal, meaning that it happens within you and may or may not be truthfully what’s going on.

You see an artist with a bunch of followers and think that is what I need to be doing. Throw that into the pack. You see a work of art in a gallery and think that is what you should do. Throw it in the pack. You see a feed of amazing work and think you need to be producing faster and harder. Throw that in the pack. But we need to ask ourselves, is this baggage keeping you from moving on our creative journey? Sometimes the bag gets so heavy with our shoulds that we find ourselves unknowingly stuck in the woods. Soon, we are in the middle of the creative process, wondering WTF is going on.

Now I’m not saying you can overnight rewrite these mental models you picked up over the years. All I’m saying is you are allowed to question your internal authorization in the creative process. The authorization you grant yourself to feel, think, or act in a certain way when you show up creatively. It’s freeing to know that you get to choose what is in that metaphorical backpack or not. You can decide if it’s worth carrying around on your creative journey. The beauty of creativity is it is so diverse that you have the agency to choose your own journey. Everyone has a different pack.

The next time you feel stuck, remember that it is ultimately you who is granting permission to what you can and can’t do. Ask yourself where you are going in your creative journey and what you are carrying with you.

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Hi I’m Keila. Perpetual weird art kid. I write zines and articles to help you build a sustainable creative practice.

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After a lot of soul searching, I decided to do a career pivot at 36. You know, have a good old midlife crisis. The kind where you get rid of all your stuff, travel the country in an RV, then rebuild your life from scratch. After a year on the road, it’s been about a month of laying down roots in one place.

I’ve noticed how hard it is to be still. Weirdly, not so much physically but mentally.

When I finally find some slowness in my life, panic kicks in. Mostly questions around time optimization and “being more productive”. Then the shame spiral around what I “should” be doing starts. Then I’m quietly freaking out on the couch, eyes wide and breathing heavy. My poor family is like, “wtf, I’m living with a crazy lady”.

I’ve picked up this belief that being busy = being safe. That if I’m constantly planning, striving, and moving, I can somehow stay ahead of some unnamed harm. The silly thing is, its 100% vauge.

It’s like trying to fist-fight a smoke creature that is forever slipping through your fingers.

As an artist, it can be hard to take a step back and be still in your creative practice.

“Stillness? I need to keep up with the endless feed of art on my phone, launch a 6-figure creative business, girl boss it up!”

In the meantime, your creative practice feels like sh*t. The arbitrary goals keep stacking, never quite satisfying that fear. The smoke creature grows. That need for productive busyness can become very addictive.

The thing about being creative is that a lot of the process is not physically producing. I think about this line from an Amyl and the Sniffers song where she says “I’m in my head, doing the work”. To me, that means feeling worth it to take care of yourself. Maybe not producing all the time, so you have something to give.

So much of creative output requires some input. This means slowing down and filling your metaphorical cup. It’s different for everybody; it can look like long walks by the creek, a phone call with your sister, or sitting in complete silence when things feel too loud. Not something more to put on your to-do list, but a peace offering to yourself. When things slow down, it’s easier to notice. Noticing gets you inspired.

Maybe it isn’t about using your output to measure your value.

The next time you feel the urge to run screaming from stillness, see if you can remain in that place just a bit longer. It’s okay to have some time that doesn’t become anything.

Signing off,

K

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Hi I’m Keila. Perpetual weird art kid. I write zines and articles about building and maintaining a sustainable creative practice.

Each month, you can read zine and a biweekly article deep diving into the zine topic

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Hi I’m Keila. Perpetual weird art kid. I write zines and articles to help you build a sustainable creative practice. This is the companion article to “Transforming inner experience into creative material” zine

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When things feel heavy, my brain thinks I’m being hunted for sport. Rationally, I know that I’m not gearing up to fist fight a tiger, but no one informed the right side of my brain. The part that doesn’t communicate in words.

Lately, I’ve been interested in practices to show the emotional, non-verbal, creative side of my brain, so that it is safe to chill out. I believe the best creative work comes from a place of safety, and it’s hard to create when you are filled to the brim with stress hormones.

This exercise is one of my favorites to get out of my brain into my body. A way to simply take some time to work with my hands a bit. Hopefully, it helps you.

Feel free to share some other ways you nonverbally show your brain how to be safe.

Signing off,

K

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I’m going to preface this article by highlighting this as my personal experience. We are all different people, and nothing is for everyone

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My Mimi would’ve balked at the idea of spending thousands of dollars on a box to be cremated in. As we were in the warehouse of the cremation center looking at our casket options, I was put back at how expensive it is to die.

A few years ago, I read a book called From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death by Caitlin Doughty. My fascination with death rituals and how cultures care for the dead got me to pick up the book. What I found the most interesting about the book was all the options we have for caring for the dead. Also, the commercialism of what it means to die with dignity, especially in Western culture.

This is where I learned about open-air cremations. In Colorado, where the laws about cremation are more lax, people can be cremated in an open pyre in an outdoor setting. The family and funeral attendants care for the body by wrapping their loved one in a shroud along with herbs, flowers, and other natural materials. The community is there to witness and help with the cremation. To be with them as their mortal body is returned to the elements.

My mom, aunt, and brother were not put off by me saying that I wanted to do a witness cremation. In fact, my sister loved the idea and wanted to be there. However, she recently moved out of the country. My other family was not interested in going on this journey with me. In all fairness, I get it.

Texas (and most of the U.S) has strict laws about handling the dead. An open-air cremation was totally off the table. However, I was very fortunate that the cremation center offered a witness cremation and did not bat an eye at the idea of keeping the cremation as natural as possible. Even by putting Mimi’s beloved Virginia Slim cigarettes in the casket with her. She would always joke that she wanted to be buried with them. The cremation will be one final smoke, I suppose.

The most economical option would be to cremate her in a cardboard box. Pretty much like an Amazon box. The cremation center did not try to push me into a more expensive option or shame me in any way whatsoever. But it felt off for me to send her off in a box, as if I’m mailing her to the afterlife. I asked if I could take the lid home and see what I could do with it. They gave it to me with no problem.

I’m no stranger to working on cardboard. As long as you don’t get it too wet, it’s actually good to collage on. I was giving the surface a white coat of gesso, and I realized I hadn’t worked this large before. I’m used to working in books in a very contained manner. It was honestly intimidating. How do you make a piece of art that sums up someone’s life? No pressure.

Soon, I started thinking about this not as a picture but as a beautiful object to lie in. I thought about the visceral feel of the piece and the materials that will ultimately burn in a beautiful way. Luckily, I was in Houston and had access to the wonderful handmade paper at Texas Art Supply, a two-story art store mecca. I landed on a wonderful assortment of white papers with things like string or flowers pressed in.

As a young angsty teen, I would draw things like clowns crying black blood or girls with their mouths sewn shut. It was a statement. I’m still drawing creepy shit, so I guess I never grew out of it. Mimi would always say, “Why can’t you draw something nice, like flowers?” For this piece, I drew a bunch of loose flowers to use as collage elements. I printed out photos that reminded me of her, like birds flying, and pictures that looked like her pets that had passed away a long time ago. My sister is a fiber artist, so I incorporated some of her knitted work. Sealing it all in with layers of beeswax, with plants pressed into the encaustic. A natural touch that will burn beautifully.

Working with my hands during a time of grief was cathartic for me. Collage was a perfect medium since the materials had a wide variety of textures and weights. As a person whose first impulse is to dissociate when in pain, making an object that physically felt good kept me in my body during the process. Working large kept me outside under the sun or the moonlight, breathing fresh air. The wax brought a “premium” feel to the project that reminded me of the smooth lacquered wood of the casket going for thousands of dollars. Except this was 100% from my heart and hands.

The last time I saw her body, she was lying in a bed of flowers carefully placed next to her resting body. I remember a petal falling on her face and gently swiping it away with my fingertips. The final touch was an embroidered tulle cloth placed over her face. In life and death, she was beautiful.

After my partner and I witnessed the cremation, we sat on the tailgate of my truck and smoked a Virginia Slim in the parking lot. In her honor. It smelled like her in all the best ways. I don’t know if I will ever find closure in a way that doesn’t make me miss her. However, I liked taking the time to care for her in the best way I knew how.

Signing off,

K

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Hi I’m Keila. Perpetual weird art kid. I write zines and articles about building and maintaining a sustainable creative practice.

Each month, you can read zine and a biweekly article deep diving into the zine topic

Follow along for more creative inspiration.

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Paid members get a zine like this one snail-mailed to them monthly

📬 Join the creative zine club in March and get this zine. The makers zine helps you build a sustainable, fun creative practice. Paid subscribers receive a physical mini zine each month. The zine goes along with the monthly theme and is a companion to the articles.

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Hi I’m Keila. Perpetual weird art kid. I write zines and articles talking about building a sustainable creative practice.

I’m going to preface this article by highlighting this as my personal experience. We are all different people and nothing is for everyone

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I keep my meds on the little tray next to my bed. This tray holds my notebook to sketch down ideas, beauty products and a moderate dose of SSRIs. I joke that not being depressed is the ultimate beauty product. “Maybe she’s born with it, maybe its selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors”.

When I first got on medication, I was terrified that it would somehow make me not creative anymore. I would hear online about people “losing their shine”.

Depression for me has always been a battle. Literally, it feels like fighting. Fighting with yourself to get out of bed, fight to get to work, fight to pretend that you’re normal. Pretending all the time is exhausting.

It’s a terrible mix of being utterly tired and also being so keyed up that your lizard brain doesn’t feel safe enough to sleep. Then you cannot wake up in the morning, rinse and repeat.

It’s hilarious thinking about the “shine” I was afraid of dimming. Looking back on it, years of this exhaustion took its toll. Mentally and physically I was at the end of my rope. There was no shine left. However, the worry about medication affecting your creativity is an issue a lot of artists face.

At times, my creative practice is the only place where I don’t have to pretend I’m normal. Which is why I can show up, even during hard times. However, the creativity queen herself Julia Cameron says “Creativity flourishes when we have a sense of safety and self-acceptance.” I couldn’t agree more.

Personally, being on a SSRI has given me space to realize how used to being in survival mode I was. Getting a bit of respite made me see how totally out of whack my inner gauge was. It helped me recalculate that gauge and notice when things start to feel off. This paired with other activities to get me out of survival mode has been a game changer. I’m learning that creatives have a slew of tools to help them get out of survival mode. That’s how creativity flourished for me.

Healing isn’t a linear journey. Life punches you in the guts sometimes. It can be one step forward and two steps back. I’m not suggesting everyone to take this path.

Personally, the medication is helping me cultivate an inner sense of safety which can only help creativity. That’s all I can ask for right now.

Signing off,

K

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I’m Keila, a perpetual weird art kid. Formless consciousness floating in the eternal now.

Welcome to the Bone Folder Press zine library. I share my zines in this format periodically as I do them.

These are all my personal photos of me with Mimi. I’m writing this while sitting in the grass with my little daughter, similar to the photo on the cover.

Mimi taught me how to love, how to care for the small, how to be kind. She was the mom I needed when I didn’t have one. She taught me how to be a good mother all by simply loving me.

I’m forever grateful to have shared part of this lifetime with her.

If you are out there missing someone, know you aren’t alone. I’m sending some love to you.

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I’m Keila, a perpetual weird art kid. Formless consciousness floating in the eternal now.

Welcome to the Bone Folder Press zine library. I share my zines in this format periodically as I do them.

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Look at these other zines

Hi I’m Keila. Perpetual weird art kid. I write zines and articles to help you build a sustainable creative practice. To work seasonally, each quarter of the year follows a theme.

March is about Artful Emergence and is apart of The Art of Wintering series.

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This month, in the Artful Emergence zine, we talk about low impact creative rituals. This 3 part article is about creative rituals into daily(ish). The last article was about mini poems. While the first article was about Freeform doodling.

The final part is visual journaling in panels.

Box/Grid/Panel Visual Journaling

Life drawing is my favorite way to integrate art into my everyday life. I started this practice after reading Zen Seeing, Zen Drawing: Meditation in Action by Frederick Franck. It introduced the idea of drawing as a practice to ground yourself. Originally, I would try to make an entire spread in my large visual journal daily. Eventually it got to the point where I was dreading getting into the book and draw. It felt like a lot.

Back in December, I came across this article by about box journaling. I’ve also heard it called grid drawing or panel drawing. Instead of sitting down to make entire pages or spreads, she works within smaller boxes in her visual journal. Also around that time, I read this article by about creating visual vocabularies. I ended up creating visual vocabularies of memories or experiences.

From then on, I moved to thinking about the visual journal more like panels within a comic book. Particularly more like eastern comics/manga which have more of a focus on the setting and atmosphere than the action of the character. When reading a comic or manga, the panels can be a big or small as they need so I don’t keep every panel the same size.

How to do it

You can keep this practice low impact by focusing on just one panel a day(ish). It can be 1inx1in if that’s all you have energy for.

I’ve found that once I start doing one panel I get inspired to do more. However, if I don’t want to, it’s all good. That one panel is a win. Your panels don’t have to be life drawings. They dont even have to be in the same medium. They can be abstract lines, or even collaged. Don’t know what to make? Try this:

• Collect pieces of paper you find. Cool packaging, receipts, brochures. Make a panel out of that. Nothing fancy, you can collect it in a ziplock bag. I like to use an exacto and cut out starts or blobs to glue on top if I’m feeling like it.

• Make an abstract pattern, like a spiral or a series of lines. These automatic drawings can surprisingly give you some insight on the inner workings of your mind. You can try this with watercolor blobs or ink by masking off the box.

• Draw something insanely mundane. Think the dishes in your sink or the candle on your desk. These tiny mundane images add up to create a rich scene of your surroundings. Things you think are commonplace now, but in 10 years might bring back memories. I look at drawings of my old bedrooms in houses I don’t live in anymore all the time.

Thanks for spending time here! Hopefully these articles help you keep things easy and fun.

Check out the companion zine to these articles below.

Signing off,

K

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📬 Join the creative zine club in and get a monthly zine. The makers zine helps you build a sustainable, fun creative practice. Paid subscribers receive a physical mini zine each month. The zine goes along with the monthly theme and is a companion to the articles.

It’s a small, artful keepsake made to inspire you beyond the screen.

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Shop zines and art kits

Hi I’m Keila. Perpetual weird art kid. I write zines and articles to help you build a sustainable creative practice. To work seasonally, each quarter of the year follows a theme.

March is about Artful Emergence and is apart of The Art of Wintering series.

Subscribe now

In this month’s Artful Emergence zine, a theme is low impact creative rituals. These are rituals I personally do. Last Friday, we talked about Freeform doodling.

Let’s talk about part 2, a daily poem.

Write a short poem (Like really short)

Writing a small amount is a low impact way to get into the creative mind space. Shoot for about three lines. These poems can be as romantic or straight forward as you like. About the endless passion you feel for a loved one or about how you drink too much caffeine. Maybe nothing more than a fleeting thought or observation.

Haikus are a great way to start if you thrive under constraints. My favorites are about nature. You can think of them as song lyrics, words on a poster, or tiny observations if the idea of writing a poem dosen’t vibe with you.

This is low impact because you can do it while driving or doing dishes. Visual expression is my default, but sometimes you cant physically sit down and make a picture. These little poems or blurbs can be used as fuel for your next visual project.

Write them down on napkins, sticky notes or a “messy” journal like I have. When you are ready to create, use those words as a jumping off point. Create a visual representation of the feelings the words provoke, make a some sequential art, or even draw or collage imagery from the poem.

Not every day has a great poem. Trust me, I got a lot of stinkers. But I’ll read them a couple days later and like some. This is how I write them down.

How to do it

Start with a scribbled down first draft, get something on the paper. After that massage the words by rewriting it over again. Put a star the final(ish) poem so you know which one to look back on. It’s not pretty but not supposed to be pretty. The words aren’t even supposed to be good. Not all of them are usable. However, the whole exercise takes less than five minutes and is a fun way to think creatively.

Some days the words don’t come, so use this time as a check in. Don’t know what to write?

• What are you feeling in your body?

• What was a big theme today?

• What was a scene from your life that stands out in your mind? In the present or a memory you keep thinking about.

• Romanticize a totally mundane but pleasurable part of your day.

I got inspired by minimal poetry after reading about Zen Buddhist haikus in Allan Watt’s The Way of Zen, this wonderful book Everyday is a Poem by (who you should follow on substack btw), and How Poetry Can Change Your Heart by Andrea Gibson and Meagan Falley. All solid reads if you want to go deeper.

Thanks for spending time here! The final part will go up Friday.

In the meantime feel free to check out the Art of Wintering zines.

Signing off,

K

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Hi I’m Keila. Perpetual weird art kid. I write zines and articles to help you build a sustainable creative practice. To work seasonally, each quarter of the year follows a theme.

March is about Artful Emergence and is the final part of The Art of Wintering series.

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In this month’s Artful Emergence zine, a theme is low impact creative rituals. Something that is easy to do everyday(ish), it’s easy to do when you had a long day, or when you feel supremely uncreative.

The next three posts on this publication are talking about the creative rituals I personally use.

Let’s talk about the first one, freeform doodling.

What is freeform doodling?

The first time I read The Artists Way years ago, I learned about free form writing. It’s where you write continuously for a set period of time without pausing or editing. The ultimate objective is to keep the pen on the paper. It does not matter what you are writing. Keep the pen on the paper even if you a re writing “this is stupid” for pages. The thing about it though, is eventually something comes out.

In this spirit, I try to have a daily(ish) freeform doodle session. It’s good to think of it as doodling because it’s not as serious as drawing. Personally, it helps me to keep these in a “messy art journal”. It’s a notebook full of lists, little poems, ideas and doodles. A bunch of stuff is scratched out and not drawn for people to see. The notebooks I use are made up of cheap grid paper that I don’t feel bad messing up. I use a black pen so I’m not tempted to erase.

Here’s a flip though of an old “messy art journal”

How to do it

Set a timer for only five minutes. It’s surprising how much can come out in this small amount of time.

All that matters is you dont pause or edit during the time frame. You can keep this low impact by focusing on keeping your hand moving versus what is being drawn. Even if you are just scribbling, the session is a win. For me, what comes out are mostly little people, made up animals, or spirals.

These aren’t polished drawings, these are in the “messy art journal” so they are messy. For some reason my mind needs that delineation. It’s a practice that is more automatic than rational. However, these doodles can grow into other work. Feel free to use these as a jumping off point when doing other work.

Don’t know where to start? Try this:

• Start making a spiral. Try getting the lines as close as possible without touching them. You can even pretend you are going to get electrocuted if the lines touch. I picked this up from the amazing Lynda Barry in the Book What It Is. She also has this awesome video about creating characters with random shapes I enjoyed. I’ve found that matching your breath with the movement of the spiral is a good way to get in your body while drawing. You can expand this to other patterns of abstract shapes.

• Think of your mind as a collection of characters that are in your head. What do they look like and what do they say? Are they human? How can you draw them as simple as possible? A character that always seems to come forth in my doodles is a chain-smoking (I don’t smoke lol), coffee drinking, devil dude who loves to talk sh*t. He’s my perpetual mean 15 year old that lives inside. I love him, he says all the things I want to say but can’t.

• Blind contour drawings. This is where you draw an object or person from life without looking at the page or picking up the pen from the page. It’s easier if you pretend you are touching the shape of the object which the tip of the pen. Personally, I like to get a mirror out to make self portraits. But you can draw your hand, your drink, the object that is closest to you.

This article was going to be three creative rituals, but it got too long. Check out the second next Wednesday and the third next Friday.

In the meantime feel free to check out the Art of Wintering zines. Thanks so much for reading.

Signing off,

K

Paid members get a zine snail-mailed to them monthly

📬 Join the creative zine club in and get a monthly zine. The makers zine helps you build a sustainable, fun creative practice. Paid subscribers receive a physical mini zine each month. The zine goes along with the monthly theme and is a companion to the articles.

It’s a small, artful keepsake made to inspire you beyond the screen.

Subscribe now

Shop zines and art kits

Hi I’m Keila. Perpetual weird art kid. I write zines and visual essays to help you build a sustainable creative practice. To work seasonally, each quarter of the year follows a theme. Artful Emergence is part three of The Art of Wintering series.

Each month, you can read zine and a biweekly article deep diving into the theme. After the quarter is up, the zines are a trilogy. However, they can also be read as standalone works.

Follow along for more creative inspiration.

Subscribe now

Paid members get a zine like this one snail-mailed to them monthly

📬 Join the creative zine club in March and get this zine. The makers zine helps you build a sustainable, fun creative practice. Paid subscribers receive a physical mini zine each month. The zine goes along with the monthly theme and is a companion to the articles.

It’s a small, artful keepsake made to inspire you beyond the screen.

Subscribe now

Get a copy of this zine, plus other issues

Shop zines and art kits

Explore More articles on Creative Practice

Hi I’m Keila. Perpetual weird art kid. I write zines and visual essays to help you build a sustainable creative practice. To work seasonally, each quarter of the year follows a theme. Embracing creative dormancy is part two The Art of Wintering series.

Each month, you can read zine and a biweekly article deep diving into the theme. After the quarter is up, the zines are a trilogy. However, they also can be read as standalone works.

Follow along for more creative inspiration.

Subscribe now

Thanks for reading!

P.S if you want to read the more in-depth zine about creative composting, here is the link.

Paid members get a zine snail-mailed to them monthly

📬 Join the creative zine club in and get a monthly zine. The makers zine helps you build a sustainable, fun creative practice. Paid subscribers receive a physical mini zine each month. The zine goes along with the monthly theme and is a companion to the articles.

It’s a small, artful keepsake made to inspire you beyond the screen.

Subscribe now

Shop zines and art kits

Explore More articles on Creative Practice

I’m Keila, a perpetual weird art kid. Formless consciousness floating in the eternal now.

Welcome to the Bone Folder Press zine library. I share my zines in this format periodically as I do them.

Visit the shop

Check out other articles

Look at these other zines

Hi I’m Keila. Perpetual weird art kid. I write zines and visual essays to help you build a sustainable creative practice. To work seasonally, each quarter of the year follows a theme. Embracing creative dormancy is part two The Art of Wintering series.

Each month, you can read zine and a biweekly article deep diving into the theme. After the quarter is up, the zines are a trilogy. However, they can also be read as standalone works.

Follow along for more creative inspiration.

Subscribe now

I work in bursts. Somedays, knocking out a bunch of collages and zine projects. Other times not so much. I rely on a backlog of work to be able to share my work consistently. For my mental health, I try to get pen or glue to paper every day. However, that isn’t always realistic.

Some days, weeks, or even months, my practice goes dormant. I’m tapped out. Times like these, I get caught up in comparison traps. Feeling like a total freak because I can’t work how I did before. It doesn’t help when your social media is full of artists doing amazing work. The feed never sleeps.

Even nature has periods of dormancy. Something can be very much alive and be dormant. I’m finding that in these lulls, a lot of unseen process is going on. Resting, finding inspiration outside of the internet, clearing your mind, having fun, and doing low-stakes art. The truth is, you need to have lulls to fill your cup. This unseen “work" roots the work that most people see.

Once, I was in a particularly long dormancy phase with my work. I was talking to an old therapist, honestly panicking. He said that I will come back to my creative practice because I’m still thinking about it. I remind myself of that conversation a lot.

How has your wintering season gone so far? I hope you give yourself space to rest and time to root ideas.

Signing off,

K

Paid members get a zine snail-mailed to them monthly

📬 Join the creative zine club in January and get this zine. The makers zine helps you build a sustainable, fun creative practice. Paid subscribers receive a physical mini zine each month. The zine goes along with the monthly theme and is a companion to the articles.

It’s a small, artful keepsake made to inspire you beyond the screen.

Subscribe now

Get a copy of this zine, plus other issues

Shop zines and art kits

Explore More articles on Creative Practice

I’m Keila, a perpetual weird art kid. Formless consciousness floating in the eternal now.

Welcome to the Bone Folder Press zine library. I share my zines in this format periodically as I do them.

Visit the shop

Check out other articles

Look at these other zines

I’m Keila, a perpetual weird art kid. Formless consciousness floating in the eternal now.

Welcome to the Bone Folder Press zine library. I share my zines in this format periodically as I do them.

Visit the shop

Check out other articles

Look at these other zines