The Facts That Will Not Fit

April 11, 2015 / brandi kincaid

“ ‘It often seems to me that’s all detective work is, wiping out your false starts and beginning again.’
Yes, it is very true, that. And it is just what some people will not do. They conceive a certain theory, and everything has to fit into that theory. If one little fact will not fit it, they throw it aside. But it is always the facts that will not fit in that are significant.”

— Agatha Christie

If I've been doing any detective work lately, it's been the search for my own voice in this new crafty land I've been exploring. I keep asking myself, as I tunnel and wind my way through the incredibly talented people who are constantly reinventing this landscape, where do I fit in? What do I bring to the table? Do I bring anything different at all?

In the beginning, I spent all my time trying out what I saw around me, looking for a fit with what was known, and though I am so glad for what I made, I was treading water. And here's where I am going to say something that those who are more passionately ambitious might not understand - I have nothing against treading water, holding space, taking a breather from swimming and just getting by, but not sinking. There are times when I absolutely crave just remaining where I am with my small life as it is, and the work of keeping myself there, the treading, is comfortable and good, and I absolutely respect anyone who feels the same.

But, oh, but, and we knew this was coming, right? Suddenly a few weeks ago, I felt the undeniable urge to swim, and the minute my legs started to kick, I felt my whole body surge forward, powered by a heart with so much bottled up energy that I just kept going, and go I am still, making laps around this small, beautiful life. And so here are where those pesky facts come in, those ones that don't fit and that shatter the idea of any kind of voice that's clear and easy to define - I did not find new waters to swim in, and I did not begin making work that I'd never before imagined. Instead, one doodle, one large quote filled layout at a time, I called attention to the pool I was already in and I yelled, "Hey, over here! I am swimming in these waters full of my own making, it's a pool like a pond, ocean, sea, full of so many various creatures, so much life that seemingly should not be mixed together, but it is mine, and it makes sense in a way that keeps me going. My voice, it turns out, is made up of a thousand tiny pieces, so many incommensurate with the whole, so many fractured and changing, but all of which bolster this unapologetically full tapestry.

None of it is new - the doodles weren't started when someone liked one of the photos on Instagram, and my love for words and the lines from others' work has been in everything I've done since I read my first Beverly Clearly book, but the difference is, I've starting owning it, all of it. And the more I own and share? The more I realize how grateful I am for every bit of it.

I don't have to just be the reader, or the teacher, the doodler, or the girl who tends towards intense wordiness on layouts, I can be all of this, all the time, together.

I can be the one who keeps shelves filled with stuffed Muppets sitting next to four different copies of each Virginia Woolf novel because every edition makes the reading a different experience, a vinyl collection ranging from Bread and Jam for Francis read by the author to Holst's The Planets to Otis Redding, and love all of it equally, fully, gratefully.

I can be, and am, the one who eats the croissant in layers, messy all the way through, and snickers bars in the following, logical order: chocolate, peanuts, then nougat & caramel together.

I can, and will, own every piece of this, and keep making and sharing all of it, because it turns out that voice I was in search for was only a theory, broken open by all these small, glorious, ridiculous, but significant facts.

And for good measure, a bit of these pieces from this last week...

I'm wondering, do you think about your voice too? Are there parts of you that you struggle to own and share?

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On Keeping Going

April 09, 2015 / brandi kincaid

“The secret of getting ahead is getting started.”

— Agatha Christie

The photo above was about halfway through a layout that I wasn't really sure was even good enough to finish. This was the third or fourth knotted speed bump, and all my good intentions to save myself the trouble of taking out and setting up the sewing machine by hand stitching the photos had already melted away by knot number two. The thing is, I finished it anyhow. I untangled this knot, the one that followed it, I pulled up and re-glued a photo that was so off centered that i could no longer ignore it's cry, and I took a photo of the finished product, share it online, and moved on to the next project. And I am sure you can guess this, but this layout that seemed like such a great idea with Atwood's words that I love, the ability to use of the photo scraps I tend to hoard, and my most favorite piece of Studio Calico graph paper, the one that I began to question, then despise, then accept, all in the time it was being made, that layout received tons of response and so, so much gorgeous, kind feedback.

The me from a few weeks ago might have given up at knot one, and definitely would have been out by knot two, but the me lately keeps going, and it's not because I feel like I have to, or that I think giving up, or quitting, or consciously choosing to stop is wrong (far from it, actually), but because part of the courage to make more and share more, is in the courage to believe an idea is good enough to follow it through, not to give up on it at the first sign of possible defeat. And what I've been finding? It really is only the possibility of defeat. So often, waiting at the end, is a victory, and no matter how large or small, victories are worth celebrating.

As the 100 Days of Doodles project continues, I've been finding that after the most frustrating flubs, or the times when I wonder if I can really even do this anyway, and I ask myself if I can even doodle a dog after my first attempt looked like this:

...it's times like these that the work is the cure, that the keeping going is what makes it possible, what shakes loose the frustrations and doubts and allows me to tray again. Confidence, I am finding as I build it small brick by small brick, is found in the trying - again, and again, and again.

Who knew I could learn so much from some pen and ink doodles I've been doing my whole life?

I've spent the last few years afraid to want more, to say it out loud and own it. It's easier, I think, to say this is what I do, this is who I am, this is my life, and while all that is true, the keeping going, the making and sharing has changed the way this sounds in my head, and suddenly when I say it like this it opens up what will come next, so I say: This is what I do! This is who I am! This is my life!

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There is Magic

April 05, 2015 / brandi kincaid

...in saying yes. This entire weekend, blissfully, frighteningly, unapologetically, has been about saying yes. Sometimes the yes was small, tucked in lunch plans or that extra errand to a favorite shop, and sometimes the yes was big and came paired with exclamation points as I added twenty-five names to my list of doodles, from Australia to Michigan to Spain to Florida to Indonesia, and more.

This morning I woke up and instead of feeling dread for the coming Monday, weighted as I often am by Sunday's willingness to be overtaken by Saturday's lost lament and Monday's impending madness, I felt excited to try again, excited to have another day to make stuff and share stuff, and generally, just to be in a world where there is stuff, both physical and in the mind, that might make life better, or at least fuller.

This layout was simple, and mostly made of this large, every day photo I snapped yesterday that really summed up the smallest and biggest moments that Saturday brought with it. It only took about fifteen minutes from start to finish, and definitely would have been one of those I'd have written off before as being too easy, to quick, to basic to be any good, but today I think that in spite of all those things, or maybe because of them, it's good because the story was so true that it was ready to be told from the minute I pulled out the paper to the last bit of glue under the photo. So often really good, true things, know how they need to be said before we even have enough time to futz with them in an effort to make them "better".

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Doodled.

April 04, 2015 / brandi kincaid

I've received such awesome feedback on the doodles and the project, and such great response by those of you who would like a doodle card, that I'm now trying to work out a system to make it a bit easier and to ensure that if someone wants one, they get one.

I held off doing this, worried that I was taking a simple little project too seriously, but hey, if I am going to give myself and these doodles more credit, what is the harm in digging in, in admitting how happy it makes me when you comment here or on Instagram, or when you tell me you want one of your own? What's the harm in putting it out there and asking the universe to give you a bit of space for a while to carve out something fun. And I know there's a chance that many days will go without those wanting the card, or will only be full of my own ideas (Murder, She Wrote doodles, anyone?), and that's okay. Life itself is a series of carvings in sand and stone, and I am choosing to take them all, and to dig in a bit more.

What I'm going to do is this: I have a list for the full 100 days. So far, I've jotted down everyone who's said, either here on on Instagram, that they want a doodle. I've not included anyone whose doodle I drew early. When I get a request, I will add it to the list. In a perfect world, these sheets are full of names and doodles, but even if it remains only as full as it is, that's okay, too.

It's about the making first, and the sharing is just a lovely extra.

What I need from you is this:

Leave a comment on the blog or Instagram that you'd like a doodle, or send me an email request. If you leave a comment, please follow that with and email that contains:

- Name + Address

- Username if it isn't your full name so I can match you up to your comment

- any doodle requests you may have ( I will try my best on all of them)

I will add you to the list as soon as I receive your comment/email, and when I get your mailing address, I will make a little check mark on the page.

If you don't have a doodle request and you'd like to take a chance with my ideas, that's great, too!

Thank you to all of you for cheering me on and requesting doodles!

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Live Colorfully

April 04, 2015 / brandi kincaid

“live colorfully, whatever that means – go outside and happen to life, or let life happen to you – soak up the greens in the grass and the trees, the leaves on the flowers, and the weeds in the cracks – take note of the blue and gray in the sky, and how sometimes, even when you don’t want to admit it, the purple and pink of the sunset is just as lovely as the light as it rises at the start of the day – pay attention to the shades of brown that seem so commonplace, but that make up the wood of your breakfast table, the shelf that holds your favorite books, and the sleeve that keeps your coffee or tea warm, and your hand cool – live colorfully, whatever that means – wear the dress that is possibly too bright, and the scarf that brings out the blue in someone else’s eyes so that when you stand near them their face lights up – enjoy the apples that are not as red as they seem in the movies, and the pears that were never green to begin with – learn to love the petals of the tulip on the ground as much as on the stem – take the time to notice that the smell of toasted bread is almost the same color as your favorite pair of shoes, and that spring arriving just on time smells like laundry tumbling in the dryer – live colorfully, whatever that means – somewhere in between the black & white, find the beauty in colors we both see and feel, and keep them close, in memory and in practice. ”

— Journaling: Cover

This little book started as a project to doodle more, but then I couldn't get away from how much I like to have photos in these books, and just like that I realized I couldn't get away from my beloved words, either, so in the end, in its small pages, this book holds eleven stories told in three ways each. Some of these parts are made colorful by watercolor paint brush as carefully as possible in within thin black lines, some of the the color comes from the angle of the camera capture one small moment with one bigger story, and at least a little both of the color comes from language, and the small pieces of journaling captured on the back of the bright tags.

What I found, as I painted the last pages and clipped them in last night, is that I love all forms of these stories, and all forms of the telling, and even though there were moments when it all felt like too much fuss for a spread about having toast and jam for dinner, I realized that this is my life, this toast and jam.

And so, in its entirety, Live Colorfully:

If you like the colorful tags (a favorite of mine in almost all I make, you can get them here: Studio Calico.

*Note: If you requested a doodle in the comment, will you please go to the Contact Me tab above and send me an email with your mailing address (and please include the username from your comment if it wasn't your full name so that I know it's you). Thank you!

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In the Smallest of Ways

April 02, 2015 / brandi kincaid

If a poem begins this way, so do my blog posts, and my journal entries, scrapbook layouts, mini book pages, and notes scrawled on the backs of old receipts. It starts with something small but impassable that must be said, and so I say it, or rather, write it.

I write so much about the smallest pieces of life, and I've found that what I make when I work with images, paper, and glue is no different. I am not a scrapbooker who captures the biggest events, though if you were to ask, finding that curved line painted on the sidewalk after so many straight dashes across the tops of my toes was quite a win. I do not have children, nor are they part of my plan, and so there are no albums full of birthday balloons and the milestones that mark the passing of time as tiny socked feet grow into velcro sneakers, then adult laces. Instead, the milestones I map are often internal, and the photo on the page is a representation more than a reflection, and the growth is marked in attitude over appearance.

I've been thinking about all of this quite a bit lately as I've been making and sharing more, because although I can tell you, and I have, that the advice I give and am working to follow is to make and not question its value, one of my biggest obstacles has been myself and this question: could this possibly matter to anyone else?

I've noticed, the more I make and I share, that the intersection of who cares just do it and is anyone out there who is interested is this: am I good enough to keep sharing; should I take myself seriously?

This week, I've decided to entertain those questions, to let them be different than the paralyzing and fearful question of "Should I make/write it?", which is always answered with a resounding yes, and let me be more about what they are - "Should I do more with it?". I am challenging myself to use whatever answers I come up with to push me to keep going.

Yesterday I posted the following statement on a message board, and though I cringed afterward at my honesty, it's so very much true:

This year I want to get back to writing more and sharing more of what I write, even if I don't always receive a response, I want to just keep putting it out there. I'd like to trust my voice and my vision a little more, which I know will help me to put myself out there more often, and I'd really like to give my quirks more credit, and to take pieces of those quirks as artistry or talent, and to work on growing those parts of myself instead of writing them off as more trivial.

Today someone dear to me asked what would happen if I allowed myself to want it, and to go after it. What would happen, she asked, if I took the good feedback, trusted it, and allowed it to push me further than I believed I could go? What if, instead of being reliant on someone coming here and giving me feedback and cheering me on, I was joyful when it happened, but believed that even when the words aren't on the page, that someone might be out there, thinking them, cheering me on in their mind. She asked, as she is good to do, if I wasn't guilty myself of not always telling someone what I thought of who they are and what I do, and how it felt when I did and they shrugged it off as if it couldn't possible be true. You should know, of course, that I do not always take the time to write or say to others all the wonderful truths I believe about them and their work, and that it feels just awful when I feel I cannot make someone see how good and lovely they are,, making me just as human as everyone else, even though I am so well of how it feels on the other end. I suppose we are all this aware and this clueless at time, though.

And so, for the next 100 days, beginning with April 6th and, though to be fair, I've already started a bit, I will be creating a doodle each day, hopefully with the help of my friends on Instagram to supply the ideas. I will doodle an image on a 3x4 card, I will post it to Instagram each day, and I will send those cards, one by one, to anyone who wants them, and I will do this because some very kind people told me that they enjoy these doodles of mine, and I am going to choose to believe them. What a feeling that is, to choose to believe them. And if there are days when no one wants them, I will still choose to believe them, because that's what it's all about - to be the voice that keeps people going, but to also keep going when you cannot hear the voice.

I would love for you to follow along with me, to possibly want a card, and to use it however you will to put new things out into the world that you make. I've sized it for Project Life, but they could be used for anything you can imagine. Find me here: https://instagram.com/brandeye8/

In the smallest of ways, I am going to begin, again and again, taking my own advice, and making space for myself when I am just too stubborn/lazy/grumpy to do what I aspire to, and in the middle of all of that, I hope to keep coming here to get out the lump in my throat, even if there is only the trust that it makes sense to someone else.

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Whatever That May Be

April 01, 2015 / brandi kincaid

“My only advice is to stay aware, listen carefully, and yell for help if you need it.”

— Judy Blume

I once had a boss who told me that the most important thing you can do is ask for what you need, whatever that may be. It was a seemingly simple piece of advice that might sound rather obvious, but oh, how it makes a difference when you realize that whatever that may be is a pretty broad brush stroke, and it includes a good old fashioned pep talk.

Yesterday I needed a good old fashioned pep talk, though I didn't realize it before it was too late, before I pouted and lacked grace, before I crumpled numerous sheets of paper and gave in to the grump. Yesterday, I needed a pep talk and it found me just in time. Though I am a little sad that I didn't think to ask for one before my doubts and frustrations got the better of me, it came just in time for me to pick up the crumpled paper, smooth out some of the rough edges, and begin again.

And that's what this is all about most days, beginning again.

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One Foot, Then Another

March 30, 2015 / brandi kincaid

“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”

— Sylvia Plath

This weekend was all about baby steps, the one foot in front of the other even if you wobble a bit and second guess your ability kind of steps, and though I might still be cringing a bit after rewatching the first seven minutes of the video in the last post, I did what I set out to do. And so if this weekend was about the steps, the past few months have been about standing up and making a place for myself, for my voice, for what I want to do with my time and energy. I could tell you that it was about charting a course, because steps are most often part of the process in getting somewhere, but that hasn't been true for me. All of this making, and there has been so much making, has been less about where it might take me, and more about where I am. And after a few years spent waffling simultaneously between where I've been and where I want to go sprinkled with the ever so often where I should be, it was nice to just be here, now. It's been nice to just dig around a bit, sometimes deeper, sometimes less so, and to figure out what my voice sounds like right now, because oh my it's different than it used to be, and oh my, I hope it's still a bit different than it will one day become.

In the video I mumbled a bit about feeling guilty for posting so much work to the online galleries and Instagram, and that I'd decided to give myself permission to make and share as much I'd like, to give myself a pass when there was nothing to say, and to give myself the same pass, thought it can feel quite different, when there was so much to say that I worried I'd flood others with the images I kept adding to their visual queues. And so, if I thought it was brave and bold before to give myself permission to forgive myself (a few posts back, if theis doesn't make sense), giving myself permission to share was even better.

Though it's hard for me to believe it's been this long, for the past five months, I've been giving myself the same assignment on the 15th of every month. As soon as the Story Kit classroom is open and the new theme released from Ali Edwards, I make something and I share it. I use whatever is available - digital files, free downloads, ideas form the sample layouts she posts, and I make something. In an effort to pull myself out of the tidal pull of needing just the right products, the best story, the most beautiful photo, the exact right words, I make something and I tell a story with what I have, and what I've found it that I have so much.

I love that the kits and the classroom are all about the story we tell. And though Ali has said herself a dozen times that the physical (or even digital) pieces should be there to support the story, not tell it, I am reminded again again, month after month, how true this is when it's less about the stuff and more about story, and I've been telling more of mine that I ever have before.

It took a few months, but now, I've found I am doing this more and more, and the more I make and share, the more ideas I have, and the more I enjoy the practice, and not just the result.

I want to tell you that all this making has quieted the parts of me that refer to my doodles as "silly little things" or has given me courage to make more and share more without wondering if what I do is good enough, but that wouldn't be entirely true. I want to tell you that in this search for my voice, for a way to wrangle it and use it like I did when I was younger and less tethered to my own expectations, I've been able to appreciate my own unique abilities (doodles included), but that wouldn't be entirely true, either. What I can tell you, is that I recently gave someone advice that I want to take myself, and so I keep repeating it in my head: love the best and worst parts of yourself, and do the same for others every day, even if neither of you deserve it. Be good and graceful and kind, and keep making stuff, any stuff, without questioning its value - it's good by the sheer fact that you took the risk to make it.

And so, one foot, then another, I am taking more risks, small and seemingly insignificant as they may be. Here's the first half of what I am working on now:

I'm really enjoying the photos of the moments in black and white paired with the colorful doodles that tell more of the story, and of course, because I can't have a page without it, journaling on the back of the colorful tags.

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