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jordanstovka

As someone who identifies themselves as an illustr

As someone who identifies themselves as an illustrator, sketching for “fun” isn’t usually on my list of pleasurable pastimes, probably because I’ve always viewed it as an assignment due for my Drawing II class rather than a meditative practice of bringing awareness to my surroundings.
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So I’ve recently started casually drawing whatever is around me, whenever I have a spare 30-minutes or so (and apparently I particularly enjoy drawing scenes with power lines and wires)
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The lines are loose, the proportions askew and the perspective warped and that’s really just fine.
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I finally resurrected my blog site that I’d abandoned for about a year now and added the sketchbook tab I’ve always wanted! The link is in my bio if you care to read more about my creative process.
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Happy Monday.

I’ve been overwhelmed with noisy voices echoing

I’ve been overwhelmed with noisy voices echoing in my ears these past five days, asking about my relational status, criticizing my political affiliation and questioning the mask I wear habitually.
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I feel like my thoughts are swimming through syrup as my brain tries to sift it all out, as I’ve been questioning so much about who I am, where I come from, and what I believe.
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In a world that seems especially heavy, my brain is caught up in its spiraling while my heart alternates between swelling with empathy and then bursting with frustration.
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But for two hours I tuned into the meditative flow of mirky water lapping the river’s edge, sharp snapping of twigs underfoot and the itchy rustle of ferns against my skin. The extraneous aggressions aforementioned were swiftly replaced with comforting rhythms of the earth and its Creator.
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I’ve been in the midst of an identity journey this summer—delving more deeply into reflection, prayer and accountability than I ever have previously—and this dose of mindfulness was truly an anecdote to my desperate need of grounding.

Sister, you handled the disruptions to your senior

Sister, you handled the disruptions to your senior year with honesty, wisdom and grace (how fitting) and for that I could not be more proud of the young woman you’ve become. Maybe mom denies that she teared up yesterday morning, but I’ll be the first to say that my cotton mask absorbed the tears that gently rolled down my cheek.
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I debated back and forth about whether or not to make the trip for your socially-distant, pandemic-edition graduation ceremony. I sought advice from close friends, weighed the risks and watched the weather, all to conclude that while maybe it wasn’t responsible to cross state lines for a non-emergency, in my soul it was right.
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We’ve both missed out on a lot in 2020, and I would’ve regretted it my whole life to have added hearing your name announced in an empty stadium and watching you walk across an empty stage to receive a fake diploma to the list.
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We’ll have many stories to tell our future kids, and I can’t wait for the one about how Aunt Jordan surprised you on your doorstep just when you were convinced that she wasn’t making the five hour drive for your high school commencement.
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Congratulations to all Classes of 2020! I hope you recognize how incredible of an achievement education of any level truly is.

My mom’s birthday falling the same week as Mothe

My mom’s birthday falling the same week as Mother’s Day always lends me to struggle in deciding how many cards I should buy and what I would want them to say, however I think this sums it up for 2020.
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How special my mom must feel, celebrating both events during such a traumatic pandemic.
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I’m also thankful to my graphic design education for teaching me how to construct greeting card envelopes so I could make and mail this card entirely from home—although I’m losing confidence that it will actually brave the journey to Pa but I still have my fingers crossed.
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(Admittedly I was self-conscious of my colored pencil skills so I digitally added some pastels to this photo for your viewing pleasure)

I’ve been noticing that for some reason, Thursda

I’ve been noticing that for some reason, Thursdays have been my most challenging quarantined day, possibly having something to do with burnout being that much stronger at the end of another dismal week than at the beginning of a potentially hopeful one.
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While I intended on getting down to business and working on some illustrations and essays I’ve had on my mind today, I truthfully don’t feel like I have the brain space or creative energy to do them. And as this pandemic is teaching me, sometimes it’s healthier to release myself from any unnecessarily productive expectations instead of stubbornly fighting them.
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So instead of creating anything other than this caption, I’m just sifting through old photos, reminiscing over art museums, Spirit Airlines and good company; bringing some nostalgic California sun to this gray East Coast day.
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In lieu of my laundry list of cancelled plans, I still find myself overwhelmed with gratitude for the excitement I did get to experience just before all this Covid shit hit the fan. I didn’t notice it at the time, but It was all truly in perfect timing and sweet memories like this are what have been propelling me forward.

I’m most concerned with my world because I thoug

I’m most concerned with my world because I thought this global catastrophe might just bring out strengthened appreciation and empathy, human to human. I thought just maybe we all might realize how much we have in common, and how much we really need each other.
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But instead I’m hearing customers arguing with cashiers, seeing people hoarding toilet paper (and flour and yeast and bleach) and witnessing a mix of impatience and intolerance over new preventative state laws. I wish the manic energy that a large part of the human population is using to fend for themselves as a coping mechanism—and frankly, the negative energy that is so easy to direct at these people for doing so—could instead be used to encourage and care for one another.
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I’ve concluded that this pandemic is bringing out the best in some people and the worst in others. I’m learning a lot about a lot of people I thought I knew; that a person’s character shines brightest in shadowed moments of uncertainty.
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Bottom line: be nice. Be gentle. Be kind. Everyone is going through something and grieving on their own timelines. We’re doing our best.
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(I also realize that I probably should have gloved this illustrated hand but the effectiveness of plastic gloves is up for debate anyway so I’ll that’s how I’ll defend that artistic decision)

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