Life Happens in the In-Between
How a Simple Travel Journal Became My Most Treasured Artwork
This time last year, my daughter and I were on a 21-day mother-daughter adventure through Greece. I love beaches, seafood, and wine, and she loves Greek mythology, so the destination was a no-brainer. But beyond the ancient ruins and stunning sunsets, we started a small ritual that would become one of my favorite souvenirs.
Every evening, we’d sit down together. While my daughter wrote in her journal, I would open Procreate on my iPad. My goal was to create one drawing a day, illustrating the funny or memorable moments and overlaying them on top of photos I’d taken. As I drew and she wrote, we’d talk about the day—the highlights, the lowlights, and the little things we didn’t want to forget.
What started as a simple daily entry—a trident drawn over a photo of the Temple of Poseidon—slowly evolved. The pages became more elaborate as they filled with the texture of our journey.
For example, my entry from Delphi shows just how layered these pages became. I can still feel the sweltering heat as we climbed what seemed like a bazillion stairs to a church with a stunning view, so an illustration of stairs features prominently in that day's entry. Similarly I captured the word "debacle" —an inside joke from a hilarious word game that had our entire tour group laughing for the rest of the trip. It also features a little "submarine," a memory from a local Mastica tasting I did. These are the details a camera roll would miss, the tiny threads that held the day together.
Then, much later in Oia, another collection of moments demanded to be drawn. There was the saga of the forgotten hat, where I gave mine to my daughter and ended up buying a replacement that has since become my absolute favorite. There was the funny-looking donkey toy with crazy eyes that she adored instantly and has since become the inspiration for another illustration. And it was here, amongst the whitewashed buildings of Santorini, that one of our favorite moments from the whole trip happened.
It all came from a simple, misread sign. We were hot, tired, and probably a little delirious when I pointed to a sign above a bowl of water on the street and said, "That's funny... 'Water for Satyrs'. I love how they are really leaning into the Greek Mythology here" After a trip steeped in Greek mythology, it almost made sense. My daughter gave me a quizzical look, so I looked closer and saw the faded words, clearly meant for the stray cats that roam the island on hot summer days: 'Water for Strays.' We stood there on the street and just howled with laughter. It was such a small, silly thing, but it was our thing. In that moment of shared joy, I realized that the real trip wasn't just seeing the beautiful views; it was this.
This illustrated journal brings back stronger memories than any photo album because it holds the feelings of these moments. Without the drawing of the word "debacle," I’d remember we played a game, but I wouldn’t remember why we laughed so hard. Without the scribble of a hat, I’d forget the lesson I learned in that moment: not to sweat the small stuff. The frustration over her forgotten hat wasn't worth it, especially when it ultimately led to a now cherished object.
This project taught me to lean into the mundane. Creativity is sparked in the small moments that happen between the big life events. On other vacations since, I’ve only taken photos, and looking back, I feel a sense of loss for the small moments I didn't capture. The daily practice of creating that journal made me happy not just in the moment, but looking back on it, too.
And the funny thing about looking back is realizing how my perspective on the work itself has shifted. When I was making these little drawings each day, they didn't feel special. They were just scribbles on photos. But looking back now, this collection of 21 illustrated days feels like one of the most important pieces I've ever created. It’s a snapshot of a truly wonderful experience, held together by all the beautifully insignificant moments that made it whole. It’s a powerful reminder that the big, impressive creative idea isn't always the one that ends up being the most captivating.
It's a lesson I carry with me into my work and life now: Stop waiting for the next big, important moment to come along and start trying to see what's amazing about the current one.
Community Discussion
Now, I'd love to hear from you.
When have you started a creative project that felt insignificant at the time, only to realize its importance later on?
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