January 24, 2011

Mountain Journal

Sometimes I spend more time at the book store flipping through the blank sketch books than I do looking at books already written.  I browse the section with blank spirals, watercolor books and jot pads while noting their portability.  I test fit them into my pocket and check the ease at which they fold open or lay flat.  When I take them off the shelf and flip through them I imagine what they could become.  In time, they tell their own stories not just by the bad drawings, stray lines and unfinished writing but the scuffs, torn pages, dirt smears and wear from being pulled out and used everywhere.  Every day.
A pad and a pen to me are more necessary than a cell phone and can eventually become more valuable than my wallet.  While riding the subway through Philadelphia one Winter day I became even more aware of simplicity’s decline.  Just as I flipped through tattered pages from road trips past, doodled refinements to views sketched and reread frustrations vented I looked up to notice again that we are a large group of people captivated by technology.

Imagine the collective creativity if everyone took a nostalgic step back and allowed our minds to dance free on paper, with paint and a pen where we are unlimited by auto correct, t9 and only 140 characters.

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