Nothing Lost
NOTHING LOST
About six months ago, as I surveyed the scattered collage papers on my studio floor, I was struck by the notion that all of these print remnants contained so much history: the false starts, mark-making, risk-taking, shortcuts, melancholy, aggravation, and revelation from the last 4-5 years, all parts of myself and the process. It felt a little like looking in the mirror. I could remember making certain prints and whether I was relying on old habits or pushing myself into new territory. I saw evidence of the different objects I used for printing - staples, thread, sewing safety pins, a metal bocce ball rolled across the paper, and shavings from carved blocks. I noted how much color appeared in early work (I seem to be moving back in that direction) and remembered how much I’d loved working in black and white. But more than anything I was reassured by how a failed experiment, or worse, a print where I was clearly rushing/lazy/disgruntled, is re-imagined. Instead of making me cringe, the print material becomes an essential mark in collage months or years later. What seemed a waste or insignificant takes on new meaning.
The benefit of a big studio floor (or even a sketchbook or journal) is we can look back and see what we’d forgotten and how those forgotten marks and events criss cross their way back into the work or our lives. I’m able to pay attention in my studio in a way I don’t in my outside life. All of my scraps, or past events, are right there in front of me. It’s harder to see these kinds of connections outside the studio, but working with collage actually gives me hope that the old and new, the meandering and the leaps, the fantastic and cringe-worthy marks and memories are not lost. It’s all material for use and reflection and it’s all embodied in the work and in life. There’s nothing final about it, simply hope that we cross our own paths again.
COLLAGE
I love collage because the final product reminds us of the act of making something–the seams are visible, the cuts and tears apparent. We’re not hiding the process, but instead putting it forward. For me, collage isn’t about how did you do that, but instead captures an energy of making. Paper, scissors and glue are the basic tools, and many of us can remember using these tools in school and can probably remember getting lost in the flow once or twice.
LIMITED SUPPLIES:
As I sift through my collage supplies, I’m aware of how many different choices I can make. There’s not one universally right choice, but possibly the right choice for the time, knowing that each choice leads to different places. Working with a limited set of materials provides both boundaries and freedom. Most recently, my collage supply has been dwindling. I was tempted to make the mark I wanted but instead decided to see where the limited choices took me. It was a constraint I was committed to (at least for now) that led to much more colorful pieces, as in Wanderlust, and in looser pieces, as in A Number of Things. I also found myself layering even more as I tried to find my way forward among bits and pieces that at first didn’t seem like they belonged together. Prints were covered up, turned over, cut up and combined with other prints - all part of the story.
