I’m reading Lynda Barry‘s books What It Is and Picture This, though it’s not really reading. It’s more like looking, leafing, browsing through someone’s sketchbook of doodles, sticky notes, memories, subconscious mind. It gives me ideas as I think about my old notebooks which I feel are just part of a process of something that has the potential to be something else.
A couple of quotes:
Putting things together again, again.
Why How What do we compose?
Follow a wandering mind. It takes practice.
Her work is so beautiful and strange.