The Medicinal Power of Paper Play

Why is playing with paper, ink, and glue so much fun?  Does it take us back to childhood, when we were carefree and innocent?  I remember what a treat it was to play with sticker books as a child when I had to stay home because I was sick.  Or does playing with paper, inks, and glue actually help us to work out our problems and frustrations?  Maybe it is a mixture of both.  Whatever that elusive thing is that is contained within the act of creating art with these tools, it is magical and takes us to a place where only creativity exists.  

Visiting that creative place is important to me - to my mental health and happiness, and crucial to keep my expressive persona able to speak through art.  What my art says to me is probably far different than what it says to another beholder.  And that is perfectly ok.  It may be that someone else, looking at my work, does not see art, but rather chaos.  That’s ok too.  It is kind of chaotic inside my head.  But hopefully it is colorful, hopefully it makes people happy to look at it - or at least makes them think when contemplating a page in my art journal or looking at a card that I have made.  

When I work in an art journal, or when I make cards, whatever is on my mind when I sit down at my desk seems to just disappear in that slight smell of glue and the splashes of color that I wipe across the pages.  It shimmers off into the distance in a haze of glitters and sprays, falls to the floor in a drizzle of scrap cuttings.  My troubles are reduced to ink stains on my fingers, glue up to my elbows and sometimes in my hair, paper stuck to the bottoms of my shoes, ink blots on my clothes from dropping the ink pad.  I get lost in the die cuts, the ink blending, the creation of pictorial scenes, the spritzing of shimmer sprays and glitter sprays, and the small dash of written word that might be added as an afterthought to help the viewer gain some type of hint of what had been on my mind or was my goal in creating the art on those particular pages.  The therapy in creating art journal pages or cards is real and is medicine to my soul.  I have no idea if other creatives feel like this, but I suspect that it may well be.  At any rate, my messy art desk, much like my cloth and thread-laden sewing studio, is my happy place.  These places are where my soul goes to heal from the hurts and worries of the world.  And that, my friends, is certainly not a bad thing!