Weekly Art Journal Prompt: What's Growing in the Empty Spaces?

So I woke up this morning to gray Portland skies and the kind of quiet that makes you want to stay in bed just a little longer. Sadie's already at the library, Gesso is doing that dramatic sighing thing dogs do when they want breakfast, and I'm sitting here with my coffee thinking about the week ahead.

This week's prompt came to me while I was staring out the window, watching the bare branches of the maple tree outside our apartment move in the wind. Bare, but not empty. There's a difference, you know?

This week's prompt: "What's growing in the empty spaces?"

I know it's still technically late winter. The calendar says spring is coming but the weather hasn't quite gotten the memo. But that's exactly why I want us to sit with this now — before the obvious blooming starts, before everything is green and full and Instagram-ready. Now, when things are still spare and there's room to notice what's actually there.

Here's how to start:

Start with space. Leave more blank space on your page than feels comfortable. I'm serious. Most of us (me included) want to fill every inch — more color, more collage, more words. This week, try starting with just one corner, or a strip down the side, or a small circle in the middle. Let the rest be empty. The empty is part of the prompt.
Ask yourself: What grows when I'm not looking? What's developing in the quiet parts of my life? It might be something hard — grief that's slowly softening, a truth I'm gradually becoming ready to see. It might be something tender — a new friendship, a creative idea, a sense of myself that's just starting to take shape. It might be something you don't have words for yet. That's okay too.
Make marks for the growing things. Maybe you draw literal sprouts and vines. Maybe you write words and let them trail off into the empty space. Maybe you use color that feels like beginning — pale greens, soft yellows, the pink of a sky before sunrise. Or maybe your growing thing is darker, harder, and you use deep colors because growth isn't always gentle. All of it belongs.
Add texture for patience. Growth takes time. If you have it, add something that takes time to do: cross-hatching, tiny dots, layers of translucent color that have to dry between applications. Let the process itself remind you that good things — real things — don't happen instantly.

My page:

I used a pale wash of sap green and let it fade into nothing toward the edges of the page. In the corner, I collaged a piece of an old seed catalog I found in the junk drawer — tiny drawings of vegetables with their names in old-fashioned type. Over that, I drew loose spirals with a graphite pencil, the kind of marks that feel like something unfurling. I wrote: "Trust the underground work." Because that's what I need to remember — most growth happens where we can't see it.

The page is spare. It feels strange to me, honestly. I'm usually the one covering everything in layers. But sitting with it... I feel something opening. That's enough.

Supplies I used:

Strathmore Visual Journal, 5.5x8" mixed media ($8)
Koi Water Colors in sap green and yellow ochre ($12 for the set)
Graphite pencil (literally any pencil works)
Scrap of old paper (the seed catalog — free, found)
White Gelly Roll pen for a few small highlights ($3)

Budget alternatives: Don't have watercolors? Use a wet tea bag to stain your page greenish-brown. No journal yet? Fold a piece of cardstock in half and use that. No fancy pens? A ballpoint and a little patience makes beautiful marks too. The magic isn't in the supplies. It's in the showing up.

Hey friend. I want to see what grows in your empty spaces — or if you make a page and decide not to share it, that's beautiful too. Your practice is yours. But if you do want to share, I'm here. Drop it in the comments, or just tell me what you noticed while you were making.

There's no wrong way to fill a page. (Or to leave it partially empty. That counts too.)