[.ca] Brave on the Rocks: If You Don't Go, You Don't See (ISBN 0375756639)

Self-discovery is the most important thing:
Maybe the people who were bashing this book are the kind of people who don't care about self-discovery or self-realization. I don't think her intent was to save the world with "Brave on the Rocks" and it's a mistake that her books are sometimes in the self-help section at the bookstore-- I consider her books to be INSPIRATION and ART! These books are journals, people, and what else do you write about in your journal but yourself? There's so much beauty in her words and art, she makes you feel like getting out the old paintbrushes and writing your thoughts. That to me is a beautiful thing. The only criticism I have about this book is that she seemed to hold back her feelings a lot more, she didn't "Spill Open" as vulnerably as she did in her first book. But that is her perogative. Basically, like Sabrina said, we need more ORDINARY people writing books-- by being ourselves, we find out that we are all uniquely EXTRAORDINARY!

shameless self-promotion & egocentrism:
art is good. good art is great. Commercially focused, self-conscious analysis is at best analogized as photocopy of of a photograph of Warhol's Campbell's soup can--sold by a non-english-speaking street vendor in Cambodia. My point? This is a mockery of a sham of a travesty of a hoax of a fraud of a sham. Please people, her books serve as giant advert-tainments that drive sales of her slapdash stichings from her website. This is like a straight girls Morrisey for clothing/painting/scribbling. A virtuoso of her own neuroses. She plays that one note beautifully. Now, let's get on about the business of enlightenment, shall we?

brave on the rocks:
I recently ordered a t-shirt from Sabrina Ward Harrison's website. I love both of her books, Spilling Open, and this one, Brave on the Rocks, and I wanted to support her work in any way I could. I think one of the most amazing things about finding an artist or writer that you love, is the moment when you think you couldn't love them anymore, and then something happens to increase your respect for them tenfold. This happened to me when I got that t-shirt in the mail. The package was addressed to my mom, and it read "the wonderful Terry Rogers" in Sabrina's own handwriting. I was simply glowing as I held the package. It was amazing to know that she takes the time not only to pour her life and her loves into her books, but she seems to do it in every other part of her life as well. Brave on the Rocks is a comort to read. It is inspiring and convicting, it is a message to the reader that they indeed are not alone in any of their doubts, fears, and worries about their own lives and creativity. It's a good book to keep by the bed along with Spilling Open.. open it to any page before going to bed, and you're sure to end your day feeling better about yourself and the world around you.

Wonderful Book...:
I had Spilling Open and decided to search Amazon for any other books. I found Brave on the Rocks. I think Sabrina is unique and very talented. She makes me feel like art is possible for anyone with the desire to create. I don't know why people have to dismiss her efforts. Like our mothers said "If you have nothing good to say about anyone, say nothing at all." People may say others could have done this but, they didn't Sabrina did and that alone makes it the best it can be.

And the apt title award goes to...:
I enjoyed this painfully self-conscious second release from SWH, even if more as a continuation of her first book. Her visual-evidence style of collage remains pleasingly squirrely though perhaps less so than before, not only because her choice of trendier elements here seems calculatedly canted toward a specific audience/taste but also because she seems to be straining for commerically viable content. That in itself I also find interesting because what visual journaler/artist doesn't go through a similar crisis periodically after beginning to show their work to an audience? There's a poignant sense of desperation in this volume, so clearly evident in her written entries--she's a published "self-help" author now, and so young, relatively inexperienced. Hey, go to Italy, write about that! Write about ANYTHING, just choke out that second book. And yet the question is clear; how can *she* have anything to say to the world? The cutesy curly handwriting we know from her first book seems genuinely shaky here, not just another affectation. The pages are darker, minimal despite the sad floral elements and paper doll clothes, belying the joyful catch-phrases this time. She's getting ulcers, she's unsure of herself. Still she's plugging away. You have to appreciate the honesty of that. Rock bands go through what they call "second album syndrome", where for the time being they've pretty much exhausted all the brilliant and original material they'd accumulated over years of learning their craft and now face The Void of being pressured to quickly spew forth more genius. More often than not, they fail, but how could they not in the face of such unrealistic, commercially-inflated expectations? I don't see the point in demanding something more "profound" from this artist/author yet. I just like reading and looking at her journals. Let her make skirts and worry about her body like a normal 20-something. Give her time. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to her next book.