The whole world is experiencing an extraordinary, difficult and dangerous time. I can’t help but to wonder: Am I ready to die? A journal entry from August 2013 Is it ok to die today? Would I run into Mamma and Pappa’s arms? Would I be at torpet: my childhood summer house? Would there be flowers and yellow…
A sock snapping turtle eating David Sedaris’ tumour. A handmade gift.
Does anyone else (well, I know my daughter does) feel like David Sedaris (and his sister Amy) is a family member? I am that kind of fan. Sorry. Reading his books, alone or in public, inevitably leads to me rocking back and forth in tears or in laughter or both. I have always fought against…
Shaping non-fiction characters.
What was initially to be a short volunteer research project into a Vancouver cold case to support a theory championed by a retired homicide detective, became, for me [and continues to be], a 17+ year personal journey “to restore to now dead people the fullness and degree of complication of their lives. To restore their humanness…
Courage
My writing/art project (the one I have been working on for 16 and a half years) is unfolding in new, fast and lovely ways. The ghosts are happy and all is locking into place. The creative process has been a windy, strange and incredible path through a dense and dark forest until now. All of…
“She drank alone…” Journal entry
She walks– arms crossed, cold hands tucked into armpits, chin tucked into chest. The familiar dark ink pool spreads around her feet. She bends down this time. Curious? Her reflection- just fragmented spirals. She slips! lurching upward and backward, around. The black ink fills her mouth. Hog-tied, she lets out a fluid-filled silent scream. A…
A quick creative project on last day of 2019: The Death and Burial of Cock Robin
Rainy stay-inside sick day today. I have stayed in PJs and creative process. I spent the last few hours interpreting The Death and Burial of Cock Robin with ink, watercolour and salt. [Source: Gutenberg Press. Original text by anonymous circa 14th-17th century] Chanticleer, what want you here, So early in the morning? “Cock-a-doodle-doo,” says he, pray don’t you…
See you in 2020.
Time to read a lot, to write a lot, to do my art a lot, to focus on family, on my health, to finish projects and to reflect on next steps. To balance output with input. Thank you as always for your support. Much love and best wishes, Katarina
I had a strange dream last night.
I am in a large hospital ward/art studio atelier with large windows and high ceilings. It is a sunny day outside. The room is filled with easels, tables and students. Outside the room, there is a stairwell in the centre of this old building and you can see down to main lobby. We are on the third…
William March’s Company K (1933) studies- ink, watercolour, coffee, salt
I have never ceased to wonder at the thing we call human nature, with its time of beauty and its time of filthiness, or at the level of calm stupidity that lies in between the two. – William March, Company K (1933)
Inktober Oct 1-12, “Morfar’s Klass.” Old family photo studies.
I am obsessed with this photo of my grandfather’s school class (Hudiksvall, Sweden). He is in the top left. I have drawn it over and over and painted it. But something never allows me to finish. I get as far as some of the girls, then the rest refuse a portrait. I tried again…
For my aunt Siv
These two women- my great aunt Helga, and my aunt Siv, had the most compassionate impact on my life. Helga- she taught me to follow my heart- MY HEART. Mine. Siv- she taught me to stay neutral and in joy and embrace children as fully formed human beings to be celebrated, not moulded. I remember…
Dear Camille, I regret…
Dear Camille, Today is your birthday. I open my journal to share something with you. We met in dance class at university in 1983. We found our way to each through dance, through arts and crafts, through books, through pie. And through letters. We intertwined our bodies in the studio and on stage. I regret…
I don’t bleed anymore. Finding solace in journal pages.
“These are the days of tweeting, blogging, posting, instagraming, snapchatting, you name it. Everyone seems to be doing it. Some people seem very comfortable expressing every morsel of their living and breathing and eating into the world. Not that this isn’t totally fascinating to the one sharing, but most people (including me) don’t care about…
Pausing at the well.
This morning’s journal entry reflecting on the lesson of this sabbatical. Pausing at the well. Being present to see the world more deeply. With mind-FULL-ness. (Doodles inspired by the work of María Hesse)
“All you have to do now is allow…” Sabbatical reflections.
I am on sabbatical/working remotely/dog and kitten sitting in San Francisco… life changing, soul searching, peaceful… no words suffice. The real lesson will show itself soon. It is finally here! What you’ve longed for is finally here! Know that all you have to do now is allow and be receptive when the opportunity presents itself….
Turn the page- visualizing fading memory
My latest favourite daily practice is to quickly sketch and then saturate the drawing with watercolour crayon and coffee. I love the feel of the wrinkled page. How the coffee ages the image. The way a drenched drawing has a life of its own – beyond my control. I am most in love with the…
Quick sketch: Young gull at English Bay
Why is it,” Jonathan puzzled, “that the hardest thing in the world is to convince a bird that he is free, and that he can prove it for himself if he’d spend a little time practicing? Why should that be so hard? – Richard Bach
Here were valleys filled with tiny trees and minuscule, tangled vines…
I am a collector. I love the details of seemingly mundane little objects. I collect discarded plants and nurse them back to life. I collect bits and pieces underneath the heron nests. I collect chestnuts. They remind me of my mom, who would often tell me she collected chestnuts in shoeboxes as a child. I…
There are times of no ideas… – Lynda Barry (but there is always process)
Daily disciplined connection with my journal maintains my creative process and even though the entries are seemingly unrelated to my writing project… … they cleanse my brain and I am more driven to write as I stay in flow…
Psaltriparus minimus playing in a tree…
I was charmed this morning by a flock of tiny birds playing and eating bugs in the tree above my bus stop. A whole bunch of bushtits.
So what is the relationship with the blog? It begs to show more of your life in it…
Journal entry July 20, 2019 Sometimes I feel overwhelming sadness that has a type of mystery and release. Perhaps it’s [binging] Queer Eye S4 that hits me in my most vulnerable low self-esteem spots, maybe it’s seeing Squeak lose weight and anticipating losing her… … maybe it’s the awe of knowing I am… have overcome…
Stream of consciousness #writing and #drawing as #anxietytool
I am diving into a therapeutic and academic exploration into anxiety disorder to wrangle and understand the beast and to build a creative curriculum of tools. Besides lots of reading, my daily routine includes stream of consciousness writing and drawing, with no attachment to outcome. I believe with all my heart that just understanding…
RIP Freddie Jones
Frederick Charles Jones September 12, 1927 – July 9, 2019
The importance of doodling…
Spontaneous drawings may relieve psychological distress, making it easier to attend to things. We like to make sense of our lives by making up coherent stories, but sometimes there are gaps that cannot be filled, no matter how hard we try. Doodles fill these gaps, possibly by activating the brain’s “time travel machine,” allowing it to find lost puzzle…
Hi-a-tus from Facebook and Instagram to rejuvenate my creative process
“Set your boundaries and protection but at the same time, look to your own inner friction and allow it to ignite something that will have a positive outcome. This can be an exceptionally creative month especially if you focus on what is ahead instead of what is behind you. Keep your eyes on the door…
I am happy among my books – I am not happy without them. – Anne Lister
“Anne’s reliance on her books for mental well-being and personal happiness was clear – ‘What is there like gaining knowledge?’ she once said. ‘All else here below is indeed but vanity and vexation of spirit – I am happy among my books – I am not happy without them’ (2nd May, 1829). Words on a…
Man klarar sig i många år på ett ögonblick…
Just a few moments from this past week. I was gifted 3 very special, very moving, very private days in Stockholm. It was about family, about grieving, about celebrating, about the city. Man klarar sig i många år på ett ögonblick… – Kalle Moraeus, Sommar Pratarna, SVT24 [You can survive many years on a moment]…
There is that one thing I must do before I die.
My life feels very complete. My children grown and following their hearts fully. My creative process keeps my heart beating and my soul happy. And at the end of each day I remind myself it’s all about process and all my endless projects need to just unfold as they will. As does my life. No…
There is one moment in Pippi Longstocking that nailed it for me…
As a child, I desperately searched for characters in books that aligned with my anxious outward ways and my happy reclusive interior. Charlie Brown came close, but he was always seeking connection. I was seeking alone time. Like Charlie, school terrified and exhausted me. Home, my room, my books were my calming tools. I found…
The Sparrow’s Nest
Behold, within the leavy shade, Those bright blue eggs together laid ! On me the chance-discovered sight Gleamed like a vision of delight. – William Wordsworth, The Sparrow’s Nest, 1807
I am not depressed today.
May 18, 2019 Saturdays I tend to have– a type of Saturday Migraine– what I call- spiritual migraines- as the time to myself hits after sleeping in an extra hour after a full week of so much output– I can either be in euphoric creative mode, or despair/exhaustion. Of course, I enjoy the euphoria. I…
I keep the broken bits. They illustrate the subtext.
I keep the broken bits. I honour the cracks. They illustrate the subtext. There in I seek the true story. Subtext or undertone is any content of a creative work which is not announced explicitly by the characters or author, but is implicit or becomes something understood by the observer of the work as the…
Ut Pictura Poesis- the narrative potential of the drawing
I draw pictures. I imagine storylines. I imagine a narrative, a comic, a screenplay… There is nothing quite as on target as the prose I write in my mind when on the bus- whilst staring out the window to deal with motion sickness, taking in the landscape. But alas, those musings instantly disappear as soon…
One must not be too romantic about madness…
Feeling burned out today from my bread and butter work, I decided to ignore my entire to-do list this evening, decided to not to catch up on things, to ignore prepping for the rest of the week. Instead– I got my hands dirty, dove back into my research into mental health treatment 1940’s to 60’s…
Silent interiors…
Fort Langley National Historic Site, Easter, April 21, 2019 I spent a wonderful afternoon with my family in Fort Langley today. While the egg scramble mayhem and sugar highs rang out outside, I was drawn to the silent interiors. Form follows function—that has been misunderstood. Form and function should be one, joined in a spiritual…
Visual notes: Patient No. 6, Psychiatric Diagnosis, 1959
As part of my research for a current project into mental health treatment in BC 1940’s to 60’s, I came across vintage psychiatric videos recently. One particular interviewee has completely captured my heart. Psychiatric interview series. Patient no. 6 : evaluation for treatment Publisher: Los Angeles : University of California at Los Angeles, 1959. Edition/Format:…
Sunday pause. Sunday paws.
Sunday pause. ☕️📰📚 Sunday paws. 🐾 Couldn’t sleep well last night- overthinking- work, responsibilities. But this morning I pause, knowing I’ve worked dang hard to get here. To get to this moment. To get to a place where I can sit at a kitchen table alone on a Sunday morning with the New York Times and…
The sparrow is mightier than the machine
This morning, at the 23 bus stop in the West End, I heard the overwhelming LOUDNESS of humanity– cars, buses, construction, garbage container being dumped into a truck, a plane overhead, motorcycles. Cutting through all that noise was the song of one little sparrow. One little sparrow with a song so much mightier and awe-inspiring…
“Poke the spot hard till the sore bleeds on your finger”… journaling out the crap.
I’m in the dark here! Those words (from Scent of a Woman) are playing in my mind over and over. I’m in a slump, a funk, a bottom-ing out. And I can’t “see.” I have lost “the point” of my art. My writing, my research. I have lost “the it.” The edge of it. I…
Drawing 3-D eyes and the human face.
Last Wednesday, I was invited by Susan Clements-Vivian to be guest speaker at SFU for the course IAT 208 Introduction to Drawing in SIAT. The course is “an overview of the various forms and languages of drawing as both a critical and creative research tool.” I did two follow-me exercises: 3-D eyes (using charcoal), human…
SOLD: “I saw the angel in the marble.” (Drawing on marbled paper)
ART SALE: I received some gorgeous Italian paper from Terry and Kevin Cowan recently. I let the marbled sheet guide my mark-making. No planning. Just unfolding. It’s my form of meditation. I saw the angel in the marble. (Katarina Thorsen, 2019) 20″ x 27″ China marker, acrylic, water colour on Italian marbled paper ART SALE: $85.00 CAD (including shipping)…
Give yourself the opportunity to discover your own imagery
Dreams of my art being attached to some kind of imaginary romantic self-sustaining monetary outcome no longer serve me. If my creative process is to continue to be my sacred practice, continue to develop, if my creative process is where I let go of attachment, let go of comparing myself to others, let go of…
Did the song of the sparrows trigger a genetic memory?
Last Monday morning I am walking to the bus stop heading to work. I walk south through the little park on Chilco between Nelson and Comox. It is a sunny cold morning, so I am bundled up. My extra long black and grey scarf hangs down the front underneath coat and covers my knees….
“This Look That Was Only Yours,” a short film of my creative process
A short film by Anna Thorsen What I love about this film by my daughter is that she has been able to visualize the peace I find in the creative process. In my own home, on a cozy weekend, in pjs and cozy sweater… It also illustrates a core value I hold dear to my heart-…
Nature moves through carcasses…
Illustrating decomposition by allowing the newsprint to deteriorate over several years and for the dead bird to slowly be encompassed by embroidered roots and the dark. The process continues. Check out:
“Retreat mode”
Heading into “retreat mode” for awhile. Creativity, family, bread and butter work, boundary reset. See you on the other side. Not known, because not looked for But heard, half heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything)… -TS Eliot
Relaunch and new look: my online graphic novel “Molly, a True Crime Analysis, the third draft”
Molly- a true crime analysis is my experimental graphic novel, originally workshopped online in weekly instalments between January 15, 2017 and January 13, 2018. I call the current online version the third draft. mollygraphicnovel.com UPDATE: THE GRAPHIC NOVEL IS BEING RE-WORKED AND THEREFORE SET TO “PRIVATE” WITH RESTRICTED ACCESS My work is based on extensive research, interviews and…
Bird spotting with a yellow legal pad and a walk in the park.
I walked around Lost Lagoon this afternoon. In order to see birds it is necessary to become a part of the silence. ― Robert Lynd I found a heron nest on the ground after a windstorm broke a large tree branch. I saw signs of early Spring. And hope springs eternal. What else did I…
I get this ways sometimes.
Ever get this way? Staring at your to do list, and not moving? Feels like a slow bleed, but the blood is flowing backwards causing a brain sting. I get this ways sometimes. Trying to figure out too many things and struggling with feeling useless and unproductive, even strangely irresponsible, yet knowing I deserve just…
The importance of being specific. Collage for 2019.
Recall Vision for 2019: Courage Last night I mind mapped around the heart image- and one of the key “to-do’s” for 2019 is PAUSE AND REFLECT, BEFORE SAYING YES. Tonight I spent time around the kitchen table, cutting and pasting stream of consciousness collages with my soul-sister Patti Henderson, as we chatted about life and about our…
Vision 2019: COURAGE
Recall My Big Vision and Mission for 2018: Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes. – Carl Jung This vision board has stayed on my bathroom shelf all year as a daily check in. And as I reflect on a year…
It’s not that I don’t know what to do.
Regarding my passion project Molly- a true crime analysis: 2003-2016 was all about researching, drawing, accumulating, writing, collecting. 2017 was all about creating an online weekly draft, telling the story with images, words and music in whatever way it unfolded, sharing it openly, publicly. 2018 has been all about allowing others in, and letting go of control,…
Potato Nose Diaries (1977): Instalment 9- Torpet
Previously on PND: Instalment 1: Introduction Instalment 2: The First Entries Instalment 3: Do Tendu Jetés en Balance Instalment 4: Sex Education Instalment 5: They Don’t Know What It Is Potato Nose Diaries (1977) Short: I am 15 now Potato Nose Diaries (1977) Short: The Audition Instalment 6: The Trip to Paris Potato Nose Diaries (1977)…
The birthday card, 1942.
A family treasure: Birthday card sent to my father in Sarpsborg, Norway, from my grandfather, Gunnar Thorsen, and fellow Norwegian soldiers (in German concentration camp) for my father’s 12th birthday Aug 8, 1942. GUNNAR THORSEN 1897-1970 After graduation from school my Dad decided to join the army. Thereafter he ended up in the…
60 years ago my mother became a mother. (Karin Kristina Orwald 1936 – 2008)
Decades are significant. 60 years ago my mother became a mother. 50 years ago we moved to Canada from Sweden. 50 years ago, my mother started to write letters home to Sweden. 30 years ago, my mother’s second grandchild was born. 10 years ago, I had my ear to my mother’s chest and listened as…