The Isolation Journals with Suleika Jaouad
Newsletter (Digital)
Here at the Isolation Journals, we navigate life’s interruptions together. Here, we use creativity as a tool for survival. Here, stories of vulnerability become stories of resilience and strength, and they unite us as a community. Source
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| Scope | National |
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| Language | English |
| Country | United States of America |
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Recent Articles
Search ArticlesArt Camp Finale: Paintings, Peacocks, Tacos & Tequila
Ana Martinez Stapleton, La Chingona de Coahuila Hi, friends! Today brings the final painting and prompt of our August Artist Residency—and La Chingona feels like exactly the woman to close us out. To tell the truth, this month has been a shitshow for me, personally and medically. Bad news layered over nausea and fatigue, all of it frosted with uncertainty: an unholy little cake. During Week Two, when chemo had flattened me, I had a terrible bout of anxiety.
Art Camp, Week 4: Have You No Shame?!
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Art Camp, Week 3: Beauty on Both Sides
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Art Camp, Week 2: Terms of Endearment
Hi, friends! Welcome to Week 2 of Art Camp, our at-home August Artist Residency. (And if you missed last week’s announcement, it’s not too late to join us!) First, thank you. Spending time with your visual journals over the past week felt like wandering through a shared studio. I loved seeing how the same invitation gave rise to dozens of entirely different conversations with the page. This week, we’re turning our attention to Mi Reina by Ana Martinez Stapleton.
Welcome to Art Camp
A couple of weeks ago, I paid a visit to a local antiques dealer, hoping for a bit of respite from my swirl of worries and what-ifs. I had just learned that my much-anticipated summer painting residency in France was no longer possible. My leukemia is progressing, and I’m switching to a more intensive chemotherapy regimen. I was trying to distract myself from my disappointment, writ large.
Notes from Journaling Club: Back to Front
Paul Nash, The Sun and the Moon (1924) Hi there, Thanks for joining us for this month’s Journaling Club! You’ll find everything you need to follow along below, including today’s journaling prompts, a special playlist, and a link to the chat, where you can share your writing, your thoughts, or your appreciation for others. Warmly, Holly
Join us for Journaling Club (virtual edition)!
Étienne Léopold Trouvelot, 1878 Hi friends, We hope you’re having a wonderful weekend and can’t wait to see you all at Journaling Club tomorrow—that’s Sunday, July 26, from 1-2pm ET. We also wanted to give you a heads up that our team will be taking a break from the Sunday newsletter tomorrow. But if you’re missing your weekly dose of inspiration, don’t worry—there will be plenty of prompts to go around at Journaling Club.
A Universe of People to Admire
I’ve been taking the summer at a slower pace, which means occasionally handing the keys over to people I love and admire. Today, I’m delighted to leave you in the hands of my dear friend, the brilliant novelist Jonathan Miles. —Suleika William A. Mitchell, Rack Picture for Dr. Nones (1879) Once upon a time, long before social media and the internet, nearly every library in America stocked a nondescript reference volume entitled Who’s Who in America.
Have You Fed the Peacocks?
This summer, I’m embracing a slower rhythm of writing, so you may notice that the free Sunday newsletter arrives a little less regularly than usual. If you find yourself wanting a prompt in the meantime, I hope you’ll wander through the archive on our homepage, where you’ll find hundreds waiting for you, including perennial favorites like Breathe Out, Past the Break, and A Day in the Life of My Dreams. The prophecy begins with a hyper-realistic lawn ornament.
Never Again Will I Ever
I’m continuing my slower summer rhythm, writing with a little less frequency. In my stead is Carmen Radley, editor and community manager here at the Isolation Journals. It’s a fun one today, so please enjoy! —Suleika When I took my first real job as a middle and high school English teacher, my mom—a teacher herself—tried to warn me. “Teaching is hard,” she said. How hard could it be? I thought.