From the age of three I scribbled with crayons on cheese stained deli-paper my grandfather would save for me, and then i doodled on the covers of my School books with freshly sharpened pencils. I made magazines for friends and made my own embellished note paper for writing secret notes. I kept diaries about first kisses, lost loves and the fact mum and dad didn’t understand me and I would add illustrations to decorate the pages. I drew on the telephone message pad in the hallway at home with the designated ball-point pen that sat snuggly in the groove on the right hand side. I’d rest the nib of my fountain pen onto the blotting paper that sat on my work desk and it would spread into something new each time so I would sketch over and around the blobs. I wrap gifts with paper I've painted patterns on and then tie them with string and I make cards for friends and family with matching envelopes which sometimes turn out better than the cards themselves.I have dozens of art filled journals, dozens more I threw away a long time ago for lack of space but mostly because I didn’t think they were of use. Now I know they are, I take photos of the pages and enhance the images on my computer and create collage sheets to make them useful again, to alter, to mix and match, make cards or simply to find a new home in someone else’s journal where they’ll tell a million and one new stories each and every time.
Welcome to my arty crafty doodle party where it’s a positively glorious colourful world of happy.
Elena :) x