Art Journal With Me: Messy Pages, Sleepless Nights, and the Beauty of Unfinished Things

I've been sitting with my journal this Saturday afternoon, Gesso curled up on the rug beside me, and I wanted to show you what I've been making. Not because it's particularly beautiful — some of these pages are genuinely messy — but because the process of making them this week helped me settle into myself in a way I really needed.

This is an "art journal with me" post. Grab your own journal if you want, or just read along like we're sitting together. Both are good.

The Page I Made When I Couldn't Sleep

Tuesday night, around 11:30pm. Sadie was already asleep and my brain wouldn't turn off. You know that feeling? Where you're tired but also somehow buzzing?

I pulled out my journal without turning on many lights — just the little desk lamp. I didn't want to "make art." I just wanted to do something with my hands.

I grabbed three colors from my Koi watercolor set: a dark blue, a murky green, and this weird purple that never quite looks how I expect. I did a wash across the page, not thinking about composition or anything. Just wet paper, pigment, letting it bloom.

Then — and this is the part I want to tell you about — I found an old grocery list in my pocket. You know the kind, the receipt paper ones. I'd written "eggs, oat milk, something for dinner???" on it. I tore it into pieces and glued them down with a glue stick while the paint was still damp in places.

The paper wrinkled. Some of the glue made the watercolor lift in spots. It looks... organic. Alive. Imperfect.

I wrote "tired" in white gel pen over one of the receipt pieces. Then I wrote "but here" on another. That's it. That's the whole page.

It's not pretty. It's honest. And I fell asleep twenty minutes later.

The Collage Page That's Still In Progress

There's this page I started on Thursday that I want to show you, even though it's not done. I think sometimes we only share finished things and that creates this weird pressure? So here's an intentionally unfinished page.

I started with a layer of old book pages — I have this falling-apart copy of a poetry book I found at a thrift store for $1. The spine was cracked, pages were loose, so I don't feel bad cutting it up. I glued down maybe six pages, overlapping them, not worrying about the text being readable.

Then I did a thin wash of yellow ochre watercolor over everything. Just to unify it, give it that aged, warm feeling.

I was going to add more — maybe some lettering, maybe some paint pen details — but I stopped. The page felt... peaceful as it was. Like it was resting. So I left it.

Maybe I'll come back to it. Maybe I won't. Both are fine. A journal page doesn't owe anyone completion.

The Experiment That "Failed"

Okay, I want to show you this because it actually made me laugh.

I saw this technique online where you put down masking tape in a pattern, paint over it, then peel the tape off for clean lines. I tried it with washi tape because I couldn't find my masking tape.

Friends. Washi tape is not masking tape.

The paint seeped under the edges. The tape tore the paper a little when I peeled it off. The "clean lines" are wobbly and weird. One section of the page has basically no paper left because I got overzealous with the peeling.

I almost covered the whole thing with gesso and started over. But instead, I leaned into the chaos. I wrote "PERFECTION IS BORING" in big messy letters across the middle. I added paint splatters. I collaged over the torn section.

Now it's one of my favorite pages this week. The mistake became the point.

What I Used (All Budget-Friendly)

Since I know you'll ask:

Sketchbook: Canson XL Mixed Media, 7x10" — about $8 at most art supply stores. I go through maybe two a year.
Watercolors: Koi Water Colors Pocket Field Sketch Box — $12-15. I've had mine for three years. You don't need the fancy stuff.
Glue stick: Regular school glue stick, maybe $1? I buy them in packs.
White gel pen: Sakura Gelly Roll in white — around $3. This one IS worth the specific brand, in my opinion. The cheap ones don't show up on dark paper.
Old book: Thrift store, $1. Any book with thin pages works.
Washi tape: I have... too much washi tape. But you don't need it. Regular tape works. Or no tape. This isn't required.

Total to start: Under $25. Probably under $15 if you already have some kind of notebook.

This Week's Gentle Prompt

If you want to try something this weekend — no pressure, only if it sounds good — here's what I'd suggest:

Make a page about being tired.

Not metaphorically. Not "tired of the world" (though that counts too). I mean physically, in your bones, the kind of tired that comes from being a person in the world.

Use colors that feel like tired to you. For me it's those deep blues and murky greens. For you it might be grays, or soft pinks, or harsh neons. There's no wrong answer.

Add something from your day — a receipt, a ticket stub, a scrap of mail, a leaf you found. Glue it down. Write a few words if you want. Or don't.

The goal isn't a beautiful page. The goal is giving your tiredness somewhere to land.

A Note on Messy Pages

I want to say this directly: your journal doesn't have to be pretty to be valid.

I know Instagram shows us these perfect spreads with perfect handwriting and perfect color coordination. And those are nice to look at! But they're not the whole story.

The pages that have helped me most are the ugly ones. The ones where the paint got muddy and the collage pieces are crooked and my handwriting looks like a child's. Those pages hold something real. Something true.

So if your pages this week are messy — if the colors didn't mix how you wanted, if the words came out jumbled, if you "ruined" a page — you're doing it right. You're doing exactly what art journaling is for.

What's Next

I'm going to keep working on that unfinished collage page. Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll start something new. That's the beautiful thing about a journal — there's always another page.

I'd love to see what you're making this week, messy or polished or anywhere in between. Share your pages if you want to. Or keep them private. Both are perfect.

There's no wrong way to fill a page.

Happy Saturday, friend.

— Renna

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