Inside the Creative Process: Studio Notes And Visual Diaries
Monkey-Mind Maps, Kentridge Notes & the Magic of Not Making Sense
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the power of words — journaling, note-taking, fragments, half-sentences... how they’re often the real beginning of a new body of work. Not the drawing. Not the painting. The words.
Over the last six months, I’ve been circling a new idea (or so I thought), but nothing really landed. A few enthusiastic starts, many rabbit holes, and a lot of staring into space. So I opened my A3 visual diary and did what I always do — spider diagrams of my monkey-brain thoughts.
Flipping back through older pages, I realised... I’ve been here before. Same thoughts, same phrases, same ideas. Different series, but the same core concerns coming up again and again. And then I pulled out my journal — same story. Lots of repetition. And yet, it hit me: this is the value of the journal.
Even the scattered, inconsistent days — a line here, a quote there, a one-word note or scrappy to-do list — carry a history of my thinking. A record of confusion. Of circling. Of something slowly forming.
It reminded me of my visit to the A4 Arts Foundation earlier this year to see History on One Leg, an exhibition of William Kentridge’s studio notebooks and process.
The space was full of messy, chaotic genius — notebooks stacked, walls scribbled with disconnected phrases. (Yes, I felt right at home.) Nothing needed to “make sense” — and that’s the point. His work draws from the randomness of thoughts, the fragmentation before clarity, the backend of art making.
Back in 2024, to escape the summer heatwave, I committed to the 5AM Club (fortunately, I’m a morning person). The idea is to split the hour into three neat 20-minute blocks:
• Move — intense exercise
• Reflect — journal, meditate, breathe
• Grow — read, study, learn something
It’s beautifully structured — but way too rigid for me. My version looked more like: feed the cats, make tea, drink tea, write something (anything), then maybe meditate if I had time.
I can’t say it sparked great revelations, but I will say this: starting my day slowly made a big difference. I was more focused. Less anxious. Not so easily distracted.
Now that winter’s here and the sun only rises after 6:30, the habit has slipped — and I miss it. Especially for my chaotic mind and art practice.
I recently picked up The Book of Alchemy: A Creative Practice for an Inspired Life by Suleika Jaouad. It’s a collection of short essays and writing prompts that pull you inward — on everything from fear and ego to love, memory, and purpose. Just the motivation I need right now.
So yes, journaling might be “on trend” again — but there’s a reason it never really goes out of style. It’s where the work begins. The unconscious part of the drawing. The moment before things become visual.
It doesn’t have to make sense right away. It just has to be written. Because sometimes the words come first — and the rest follows. (In art, and maybe in life too.)
P.S. A few places I always return to when the thoughts feel too tangled to untie:
✨ The Marginalian by Maria Popova
✨ The Red Hand Files by Nick Cave
Both deeply human. Beautifully written. Always worth a revisit.