When I was nine a family friend gave me The Nothing Book. I carried it everywhere and this habit became permanent — I am never without my journal. My sketchbooks hold my brain: the galumphing to-do list, jottings, inspiration, places to visit, music to listen to, books to read, movies to see, endless doodles, potential painting titles, dreams and schemes, kids appointments, my calendar, and the rest of the beat.
After the birth of my first born, I became sick. I was constantly on planes chasing doctors in search of clues to a host of autoimmune illnesses. It was an intense and lonely time to say the least. Some years later my mother was diagnosed with cancer and she also bounced from doctor to doctor looking for a reprieve that never arrived. “Aviator” was created shortly before she died and was inspired by both the physical and mental quest for answers — and the seizure of time and peace that happens when your life, or someone you cherish in it, is upended by illness. The brilliant Susan Sontag said it best: “Illness is the night side of life, a more onerous citizenship. Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place.”
Creamy white smooth finish 70lb acid free paper; 48 pages; double-sided with ruled pages. Scuff-resistant, velvet ultra-matte laminate cover.
5″ x 8.25″