Category: Collages

My collages are intuitive. I never know what they’ll look like – or what they’ll mean (to me, anyway) – until they’re finished.

This is very much that kind of torn-paper collage. It’s darker than my usual works, but in a mysterious, moody, “old money” way. It will look best matted and  in a very sophisticated gold leaf frame.

The references almost surprised me, with a nod to Florida (maybe) and misty swamps, plus travel – to Maine and around the world – with notes such as “powerful,” “create,” “play,” and “exceptional.”

If this were a painting, I’d add gold leaf to it. But, as a torn-paper collage, I’m leaving it as-is. It’s a very powerful piece in real life, and I’m both pleased and astonished by it.

Here’s what I wrote when I created this art:

In a hotel room in Maine, still “on the road” as we move to New England, I’m making torn-paper collages again.

This one is very different from the torn-paper collages I was creating in Florida. It’s more vibrant. More animated.

My husband says it looks “happier.”

I agree.

The elements include brilliant colors, some hippie-style art, a Harry Potter reference, as well as flowers and foliage, the latter turned sideways.

I’m both pleased and surprised by this.

Unlike most of my collages, this is about place. It has no people in it. Not even a hint of one.

It’s because place was on my mind when I woke up this morning.

• Places where I fit in.  That’s New England. Mostly Boston and coastal Maine, NH, and Massachusetts. And almost any arts community.

• Places where I can tweak how I talk and act, so I’m a comfortable fit with a slightly different culture. That’s L.A., where my complete disinterest in being in IMDb makes me a bit of an anomaly, but – with my background and skills – I’m useful. Maybe even fun. And definitely not competition.

• Places where I don’t fit it. Oh my. That’s a long list, with Illinois, Florida, and a lot of Texas near the top of it. Utah was awkward but okay, up to a point. Interior Maine, ditto.

Yes, I’ve moved a lot. Lived in lots of states. Traveled a lot, too, and I keep returning to specific places like Portsmouth (NH) and Stratford-upon-Avon (England).

This morning, defining that, clearly… it was a breakthrough. I can quit trying to “fit in,” here. I don’t speak my neighbors’ languages. (And since Disney’s layoffs, that’s literally true.)

Expecting to find a sense of place – a sense of “home” – here…? Connecting with a network of like-minded people…?

It’s not impossible, but it’s like paddling a boat against the current.

And now I have a to-do list to shift gears, a little radically, to get back to shore. Pun intended: New England shore.

So, with that on my mind, today’s collage was going to be different. It’s about symbols that represent home-and-comfort.

Size: 8.5″ x 11″

Materials: Torn magazine pages, and Yes Paste, on acid-free art paper.

Almost all the images are from Yankee magazine. The exception is the vertical strip along the left side, with evergreens reflected in water. That’s one of my own photos from Lake Winnisquam (NH).

And yes, some of the tears are untidy. Life is like that, and I wanted that to be part of this piece. Especially what follows the word “Happiness,” that’s just a hint of something else.

Most of my collages flow almost effortlessly as I create them. This one challenged me at several points.

Sometimes when I work, I lay out all of the pieces before I start gluing them in place.

At other times, I glue pieces as I tear them to size.

Most of the time, it’s a little of both. That is, I look at part of the collage and know that I love it, so I start gluing those pieces in place. I’m trusting the rest of the pieces to fit in place – and look good – as I find and tear them.

This collage was one of the latter, and – at a certain point – I wasn’t certain I could complete the piece. (Now and then, one just doesn’t work. I put it aside in case it “sings” to me at a future time. <– When a piece works, I’ll often talk about it “lighting up” or “singing” to me. I don’t actually hear anything; it’s just a feeling that the piece works.)

In this case, I liked the text lines at the top of the page, and the blue background beneath them. I liked the power in the model’s face, and I knew I wanted the brocade gown* in the lower right. So, I glued all of them – except the face – in place.

For the next hour, I shuffled a variety of “maybe” collage elements, until I glommed onto the magazine ad with the forest-y images. That’s when I said aloud, “Right. Mother Nature.”

With those pieces glued in place, I knew “Be open to change” had to be part of the message.

And then… I stalled again.

When the pearl necklace got my attention, I was back on track. For me, that image is about women’s power. Pearls have always seemed an iconic sign of quality and quiet strength. (I still have the pearl necklace my mother gave me when I was around 12.)

Then, the words “Better starts” leaped off the magazine page, and… I stalled again.

When I found the word “NOW” in an article headline, I knew it was exactly right.

But… I’ll admit I completed the collage with some uncertainty. It had been through so many changes, I wasn’t entirely certain what the work meant, if anything.

This morning, looking at it fresh, I’m very pleased with it. It’s exactly what I wanted to say. I just didn’t realize it until the piece was completed, and I had some mental distance from it.

Size: 8.5″ x 11″

Materials: Torn magazine pages, Yes Paste, and acid-free art paper.

*The brocade gown element remained from my work on a recent piece, Now Is The Time. In that collage, the related brocade element is at the lower right side.

What now…? I doubt that I’m the only one asking this question as we head into the uncharted territories of 2021.

But, because we’re forging a fresh, new path, perhaps we get to make the rules. We can invent our new world, and make it better than before.

The flaws of the past are coming to light. Those rules may have served our ancestors well. They may have worked for many of us, as recently as 1995 or even 2005.

But, in recent years, they’ve become a game to beat.  We can’t rely on civility or even common sense in all settings.

We can’t trust that laws enacted in the 1960s and 70s will be respected. Worse, their intent may have been clear to us in the hippie movement but not to others. Or perhaps others just shrugged them off. Maybe we thought we’d put things in motion and could trust them to run on auto-pilot.

Clearly, we couldn’t. And, in some cases, our decisions were made in the shadows of our parents’ and grandparents’ choices. We could see ahead to “better,” but perhaps no farther.

So, this collage has a somewhat staid background, referencing the past.

“Now is the time… to INVENT” is over a window with drawn – but sheer – curtains.

The finger points to an outspoken woman, but it might also point to the figure in a somewhat Victorian gown, with hands on hips. Is she encouraging us or stunned at how forthright we are now?

The lower part of the collage, with “THE RULES” in the text, is deliberately fractured. It represents the random pieces of the past that we’re choosing to build upon. And there’s a certain watery, fluid quality because boundaries are changing. Certainties may not be so certain, after all.

That can feel destabilizing, but it also presents us with freedom.

I like to think we’ll make better decisions now.

Size: 8.5″ x 11″

Materials: Torn magazine pages and Yes Paste on acid-free art paper.