So if her latest work is not a book, what is it? Like "Wreck This Journal," its predecessor, it's a hand-written set of instructions for self-expression, many of which contribute to the book's eventual destruction. Each page brings a new directive. "This is an annoyance," reads one. "Do several things to this page to make it annoying (e.g. make it sticky, write an insult, etc.)." My kids, Birdy, age 7, and Ben, 10, couldn't wait to rub a pancake on the book and drag it through the dirt on a string. "It's not about making something beautiful," Keri says, summarizing her creative philosophy. "It's about experimenting."
This "it's the journey, not the destination" philosophy carries over into everything Keri does: parenting a 2-year-old (who was watercolor-painting when Keri and I spoke); being married to an experimental musician; splitting her time between a farmhouse in northern Ontario and a yellow Victorian in upstate New York; and practicing guerrilla art. That last one may sound scary, but it's not. Picture lobbing a wildflower-seed "bomb" into a vacant lot or leaving miniature origami for a stranger to find. It's as friendly and beautiful an approach to art as you're likely to find.
Which is why you shouldn't be daunted by Keri's no-holds-barred style. In fact, the whole point of what she does is to make creativity undaunting. With its emphasis on found materials and observation, this is art that's accessible, cost-free, kid-friendly, and indistinguishable, nearly, from daily life. Says Keri, "There's no separation for me between my daily life and what art is. Everything becomes fodder for opening your mind up to things." She believes you're born with the tools you need to be creative. For added guidance, here area few thoughts from the Explorer of the World herself:
Be amazed. For Keri, the world is one big invitation to observe. She says that if you look, really look, you will find art everywhere: "Stains on the sidewalk, spilled paint, corrosion, rust …" Keri never leaves home without a notebook and pen for tracing those sidewalk stains, making rubbings, doodling, leaving secret notes, pressing found leaves, or cataloging smells.
Improvise. Keri's style of creativity doesn't rely on traditional art supplies. "You have to have some tools to get your ideas out," she explains, "but you can make something amazing with a ballpoint pen. Or whatever is around you! Dirt and mud. Grass." She applies this approach, noisily sometimes, to other art forms as well. "We make music with everything. We bang on dishes, the fridge, stair banisters."
Get outside. "Human beings are naturally in love with nature, if they let themselves be," Keri explains. She sees the natural world, with its cycles and patterns, ebb and flow, as an endless source of inspiration. Nature also offers lessons in impermanence. "Every day, things are changing!" says Keri, "You see the leaves and how they deteriorate." Like a Buddhist sand mandala, an elaborate pattern drawn with sand that is blown away as soon as the artists finish it, nature reinforces the concept that creativity is about the process, not the final product.
Collect stuff. For Keri, collections offer wonderful opportunities for sorting, arranging, and observing, and nothing is off-limits: whiskers, cloud shapes, feathers, wax, rubber bands, tape, maps, fruit stickers, bones. Children are natural collectors, inclined to notice the patterns, differences, and details that are so vital to creative observation. "When you pay attention to something you've never really looked at before, you begin to see it everywhere. Eventually you feel as if the thing is out to find you, instead of the other way around."
Leave your kids alone. "Parents always think, 'I should be doing more things with my kid!'" says Keri. "But I don't think it's necessary to stimulate kids constantly." Case in point: I left my kids alone for an hour with one of Keri's books. On their own, they came up with interpretations of her ideas. Birdie designed "Make a Sticker" (blank labels with an invitation to color them). Ben made paper four-leaf clovers that said "pick me up" on one side, "lucky" on the other. Following Keri's practice of random acts of creativity, Ben was planning to scatter them in a supermarket for strangers to find.
Break the rules. "My work is all about making a mess," says Keri, and she invites everyone to do the same: to experience the freedom to improvise, explore, experiment, fail. For the tentative, a book like Keri's Wreck This Journal, with instructions to cover its pages in scribbles, chew them up, and tear them out, might be just what's needed to realize that freedom. Because Keri Smith's style of creativity isn't just about making art — it's an entire way of life.
















