The irony is that I'm surrounded by stacks and stacks of books in my home. I think I just forgot how engaging (and apparently non-threatening) they can be. They are so much more than the simple adornment I have relegated them to being. Their pages are filled with ideas, color, escape, possibility, teaching and on and on the list could go. Before Pinterest and the blogosphere, I would go to the book store almost every Sunday for 1-2 hours. I would find a comfy chair, stack my books high beside me and have my sketch pad at the ready. Now it seems, that I barely pause long enough to capture the detail of images; let alone be truly inspired by them. For some reason, books provide a separation between myself and the artist. There's no "follower" count, "likes" number or anything else that allows me to compare. I'm not so quick to judge myself. And honestly, think less of myself. It is simply creation, beauty and inspiration without measure. I like that.
Oh Lord, please don't let the internet do to books what MTV did to music videos. Books and magazines, both old and new, will forever have a place in my heart. And I promise, printed goods, I will do my best to never break up with you again. It's clearly bad juju for me.
Let the flipping of pages, long pauses and inspiration commence! xo