For Bai Hayde Quiñanola, a cupcake liner is never just a cupcake liner. Folded, layered and glued onto a page, it can become the flared skirt of a paper doll — proof that in junk journaling, even the most ordinary discard can find a second life as art.
As Quiñanola shared, junk journaling is neither scrapbooking nor diary-keeping. It is a tactile, collage-first craft that turns household discards, aged paper and vintage motifs into visual art.
Quiñanola began during the pandemic lockdowns, using the craft as a buffer against doom-scrolling. Drawn to garden-journal aesthetics — butterflies, flora, summer baskets and shabby-chic accents — she started with materials pulled straight from household waste: flattened cake boxes, old magazines and faded receipts.
As she explored online supplies and specialized tools, her practice grew to blend authentic refuse with deliberate ornamentation.
“Junk journaling is not entirely ‘junk’ per se,” she said. “You can mix it with decorative pieces or use decorative elements on their own.”
From packaging to paper dolls
The appeal lies in seeing possibilities where others see trash. Worn cardboard, corrugated paper, packaging inserts and postal scraps offer a texture and weight that pristine notebook pages cannot replicate.
One of Quiñanola’s signature spreads began with a pleated cupcake liner. Folded onto the page, it became the flared skirt of an illustrated paper doll and an accidental sensory detail.
“The page smelled sweet,” she said, “but be careful though, because it drew ants.”
Her journals are not illustrated diaries. They contain no written entries, treating each page as a canvas for visual assembly. Because the volumes are meant to be viewed rather than written in, she can sell completed journals to collectors and fellow enthusiasts.
What to save, what to buy
A balanced junk journal combines raw refuse with a few deliberate accents. From the kitchen, cupcake liners, tea tags, cereal-box cardstock and bakery wrappers can become textured page elements. Wipe away any residue and iron wrinkled liners flat under a cloth, but avoid greasy or sugar-coated papers, which can attract mold and pests.
Household paper waste offers equally useful material. Utility envelopes, receipts, brown shipping paper and tissue paper can be torn by hand for soft, feathered edges. Thermal receipts, however, fade over time, so scan or reprint them if preservation matters.
Print ephemera — old magazines, junk mail, clothing tags, postcards and manuals — can be cut cleanly along subject lines or ripped into uneven mosaic shapes. Because high-gloss paper resists water-based glue, tacky paste works better for these pieces. Decorative supplies such as washi tape, vintage-style stamps, botanical die-cuts and lace trims are best used sparingly, as accents over raw junk backgrounds rather than as the foundation of a spread.
Building a first spread
Starting a junk journal does not require expensive kits or formal art training. Before buying anything, look around the house for cardboard cake boxes, kraft packaging, grocery slips, brown paper bags, clothing tags and magazines. Clean discards with interesting folds or textures make the best foundational layers.
Keep the toolkit lean: a blank journal, strong adhesive paste or glue stick, a fine-line pen, watercolor pencils and, optionally, a mini pocket printer for instant photos or vintage-style scan cutouts.
Choose an anchor theme to guide the palette and shapes. Quiñanola began with a garden motif built around botanical clippings, butterflies, wicker baskets and muted earth tones. A unifying theme keeps a spread from looking chaotic.
Then tear, layer and age the page. Ripping scraps by hand produces soft, deckled edges, while muted base papers such as book pages or brown packing paper cover the intimidating white surface. Layer contrasting textures over them and use watercolor pencils around the edges, blending lightly to make modern cutouts and older-looking scraps feel part of the same spread.
Finally, mount a dimensional centerpiece. Let one odd throwaway lead the composition: a pleated cupcake liner folded into a doll’s skirt, a patterned matchbox cover turned into a miniature frame, or a vintage receipt framed by decorative paper.
Common first-timer problems
Collaging with irregular, recycled materials brings a few quirks. Standard liquid glue contains enough water to warp thin notebook paper, so use firm paste, archival glue sticks or dry double-sided tape for base layers and reserve wet glue for thick cardstock elements.
As cardboard and packaging accumulate, a journal’s spine can bulge until it will no longer close. Removing a few blank leaves every five to six pages compensates for the added bulk; an elastic band around the cover also helps.
Glue can also bleed through porous papers such as newsprint or receipts and stain neighboring pages. Slipping a sheet of wax or parchment paper behind the working page keeps the rest of the journal protected until the glue dries.
Breaking blank-page paralysis
Beginners often hesitate, afraid a crooked collage will ruin a pristine notebook or waste precious ephemera. Quiñanola’s answer is unpretentious: “Bad art is better than no art.”
The character of a junk journal comes from frayed borders, glue smudges and asymmetric arrangements. For her, imperfection is not a flaw but the point.
“Be okay with being a little messy, because it doesn’t have to look pretty. It only has to be fun. That’s the whole point,” she said. “And what’s being pretty, anyway? A childish doodle can look pretty and intentional to somebody. And a crooked collage or a smudged note has its own charm, too. And if you did make it ugly, well, doesn’t that only add character to your journal?”