Recycled materials, handprinted cyanotypes and a surgery recovery
Midori-style journals made from scratch, with covers crafted from cyanotypes printed on fabric. Each collaged cover carries the one-of-a-kind depth and texture of a blue sun printed image, layered and stitched to create a singular exterior. What I love about these journals is the modularity: the midori-style elastics let you swap inserts in seconds. Switch from lined writing paper to scrapbook pages for keepsakes, to heavyweight drawing or watercolour paper for sketching and painting. They’re adaptable companions for journalling, mixed media, travel, and studio work. Practical, portable, and beautifully unique, they invite endless creative combinations.
Something Borrowed, Something Blue
Not every cyanotype print works out. Threads land in the wrong place, strange marks appear, and unexpected things happen. Usually, those surprises are what I love. But when a print feels unusable, I borrow from it to make something new.
The “something blue” could have been the cyanotypes. But it was also me.
In 2025, chronic pain had worn me down. I worked full time, spent my energy pretending I was okay, then fell into bed and did it again. Over Christmas, a pain episode left me unable to get up off the floor. An emergency visit and diagnostic tests led to back surgery, with almost three months of waiting beforehand.
I could barely move. I read piles of books, pretty much reached the end of the internet, and imagined everything I would make when I could move again.
After surgery, creating meant working in tiny bursts. Five or ten minutes, then rest. My Sizzix, bought for printmaking, became a lifeline. I embossed paper, rested, painted it, rested, glued layers of Amazon packaging together, and rested again. It was slow, but it was exactly what I needed.
Those small experiments became journal covers. Recycled packaging formed the structure, and scraps of flawed cyanotypes sitting in a drawer became something worth using. Over my recovery, I made eight covers: six cyanotype and two fabric. One was for me.
I’ve never felt comfortable with traditional sketchbooks. They seem too precious, and I worry about “wrecking” them. These journals give me room to work the way I actually do.
Midori-style elastics hold removable inserts: writing paper, keepsakes, drawing paper, watercolour paper, or a little of everything. I can move pages around, keep what I love, and remove what isn’t working without getting sentimental. The layered, stitched cover stays while the contents change.
I thought I didn’t like sketchbooks. It turns out I just needed a system that works with my chaos.
A Journal That Changes with You
The cover is where each of these handmade journals begins: the texture of a blue sun-printed image, layered and stitched to create a distinctive exterior. I love how the layers and stitching bring another dimension to the print, making the cover a piece of artwork in its own right.
But what I love just as much is how adaptable these journals are.
Inside, Midori-style elastics hold removable inserts, allowing you to change the pages as your needs and interests shift. You can slip out lined writing paper and replace it with scrapbook pages for photographs and keepsakes, or add heavyweight drawing or watercolour paper for sketching and painting.
You can also keep a combination of inserts together. Written thoughts, drawings, collected scraps, and experiments can share the same journal, each with paper suited to the way you want to work.
That flexibility makes these journals useful companions for travel, everyday journalling, mixed media, and time in the studio. Fill an insert, remove it to keep, and begin another while continuing to use the cover you love.
For me, that’s the appeal: a practical, portable journal with room to change. Each one has its own character on the outside, while the pages inside leave space for yours.
