A collection of art journal spreads exploring the mythic imagination, working with the power of both myth and metaphor as tools for meaning-making.
“Over the centuries, this old knowledge has been deliberately overwritten. It’s my belief that we badly need to find our way back to it. We need to find our mythic ground again. We need to re-enchant ourselves – to fall in love again with the world, to find a genuine sense of deeply embodied belonging to this beautiful, animate Earth. To remember [. . .] that humans have always been myth-makers. And to take back that myth-making power from the failing forces that govern us, and find the stories we really want to live by.” - Sharon Blackie; The Mythic Imagination
Mythlines like mycellia is documentation of select art journal spreads. An art journal is space for re-enchantment, where myth and meaning can be explored, reshaped, and transformed over time. In this way, the art journal becomes a site of myth and meaning-making: a place where I can access and connect personal experience, ancestral memory, and ecological imagination .
I am drawn to art journaling because it resists performance and perfection. The practice supports emotional regulation and creative self-expression, but it also does something larger: it restores my human capacity to make meaning through story, image, and ritual. Art journaling becomes a way to reclaim authorship over the stories I live by—and to remember that imagination itself is a form of ecological belonging.
She Had Some Horses, 2026.
Prompted by Joy Harjo’s poem, “She Had Some Horses” at the turn of the New Year for 2026’s year of the horse, I’m reflecting on horse energy—motion, liberation, vitality, intuition, and strength. Beyond the pull of my inner child (the little girl who loved and longed to be close to a horse and idolized their freedom and strength), horses offer the imagination so much in how they move through the world, and their history of human relationship.
Joy Harjo’s poem is all about knowing all the horses she has within, the ones she loves and the ones she hates, and how while they can appear to be in conflict, they’re all really just the same horses. I find this poem to be an invitation to accept the inner chaos and give those parts of self that are hard to love a little grace and understanding, and to work to transform them into the horses that make magic. Amid the chaos of horses, are abstracted buttercups, a flowers that grows from the disturbance caused by horse grazing and from being pummeled over with their hooves. Quite a symbol in what it means to grow through disturbance, I find. I created this spread at the imperialist threat of war—as the United States captured Venezuelan President Nicholas Madero, and I was grateful to the horses (inner and outer) in helpin me to move through the emotions.