[Image is a poster keepsake, GIRVIN’s journal workshop,
of the rules of the journal-maker in documenting their pathways.]
Your Mind Deserves a Room of Its Own
I taught classes in journal making—which I see as a kind of room, a palace of memories and inspirations—a portal of collections, a gathering point, a framework where private ideas flourish in graphical form.

It becomes a protected and proprietary space—a place that you’ve made just for your yourself, an exploratory conclave.

I built this out to a string of variations—
one, project journals and design work;
here: sketches, ideas gathered for the Star Trek logo.

Or studies for The Soloist.

And another type of diarist exploratory,
a journal to references of places,

literally, where you are—locations and geographies—these journals, carried into the outdoors, drawing what you see, perhaps without notes, but with pens, inks, and a book, handbound for skill-set immediacy.

And yet another, the journal of a single sentence—one line of thought.
There is a sentence that is the opening statement—
one poetic framing that feeds the contemplations, page by page.
“This book is a walk through my time…” And what I think about it.
These journals are tiny.
Here are two “sentence journals.”

In this instance, you can see words, in palimpsest of preceding and following pages, so the message becomes a memorial imprint, back then, today, and then, the future.

What’s the journal worth—anyone, strategists, writers, designers, brand people, navigators?
It’s a re-collection, a re-clamation, and—in the journey of time—look back and see what you can see.
“What was a feeling then? What was I working on—what were my biggest challenges, in those daze?”
It might be the gathering of ideas that lead to another.
Big.
One.
Like this walk-around to my personal journey, journaled, Wanderer.

Speaking of the weaving of ideas, writing and illustrative matter—the state of “lostness,”
And the finding of personal place. You can find more in that character here—explore more.
What about the notion of personal archetypes,
explorations of patterning?
Like, her.

I use the journal as a place to explore composition—the interplay of variously-rendered, illustrative text, found objects and inset memorable content. Word play, imbuing exploration,
and serving relevant meaning to my practice.

And artistic explorations, cairns and nest allegories.
These contemplations form other ideas—and built design programs.

And, it would be salient to contemplate, to the least, the examination of etymology. The word journal, what does it mean, where could it come from? What did it mean in its historical sequence to
how we use it, understand it, today?
What is the deeper meaning of the word, and the action of, journal. Expert word analyst, founder of Etymonline, Philip Harper—and his take: Anglo-French jurnal, from Old French jornel, “a day; time; a day’s travel or work” (12c., Modern French journal), properly “that which takes place daily,” noun use of adjective meaning “daily, of the day,” from Late Latin diurnalis “daily,” from Latin dies “day,” from PIE root *dyeu– “to shine.”
As a long-running student of etymology, I go back to study the farthest word roots, the 6500-year-old seed sounds, coming from the lexicon of the PIE, Proto-Indo-European, which Phil notes as the foundation for other words:
*dyeu-
Proto-Indo-European root meaning “to shine,” in derivatives “sky, heaven, god.”
It might form all or part of: adieu; adios; adjourn; Asmodeus; circadian; deific; deify; deism; deity; deodand; deus ex machina; deva; dial; diary; Diana; Dianthus; diet (n.2) “assembly;” Dioscuri; Dis; dismal; diurnal; diva; Dives; divine; joss; journal; journalist; journey; Jove; jovial; Julia; Julius; July; Jupiter; meridian; Midi; per diem; psychedelic; quotidian; sojourn; Tuesday; Zeus.
It might also be the source of: Sanskrit deva “god” (literally “shining one”); diva “by day;” Avestan dava– “spirit, demon;” Greek delos “clear;” Latin dies “day,” deus “god;” Welsh diw, Breton deiz “day;” Armenian tiw “day;” Lithuanian dievas “god,” diena “day;” Old Church Slavonic dini, Polish dzień, Russian den “day;” Old Norse tivar “gods;” Old English Tig, genitive Tiwes, name of a god.
I abide by the notion of “shining,” since, as you make notes, transposition ideas—from the electricity of the mind, to the lead-pencilled drafts on your paper, you—journaler—can “illuminate” your explorations.
It’s the du jour of the day,
onwards—the explorations of the deu.
Adios!
Tim | Queen Anne Studios | Seattle
Imagery+text ©GIRVIN 2026
Girvin | Osean | Tim.Girvin | Wanderer
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The Chinese character for Ch’i,
speaking of journeys

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