My dad and mom, born in 1926 and 1929 respectively, are the ones whose early childhood years take place during the Great Depression of 1929-1939.
I'm the baby-boomer who grows up in a time of plenty but who has a mile-high stack of good-on-one-side paper at the ready for further service, who saves fabric scraps and buttons and ribbon and elastic bands, who reuses items until they are threadbare and beyond re-use.
At some point—before I start painting in 2014? after? can't remember—I begin amassing what becomes a scrumptious and sizable collection of print matter of every hue, collected from magazines, calendars, and junk mail, which I sort by color for use as collage. The best!
When I set out to make what becomes the series of postcards featured in my blog the past three days, I'm not thinking collage. But collage is what becomes the fun and flow of making those cards; collage becomes the fuel that sets my creative energy on fire.
I rummage through my scrap collection looking first to match the background ink colors of magazine pages to the acrylic paint colors I've brushed into place, a very appealing visual task. Then I scrutinize for words that intrigue or resonate or bristle or surprise. Next come the very satisfying tactile tasks of tearing and gluing. Finally, after making discerning selections, affixing them with the greatest of care, and fussing attentively to detail, I subject the completed work to my paper cutter, letting the blade fall where it will with regard to the art, boldly chopping the completed piece into three postcards!
A scrappy little project from a scrappy little artist.
project as painted/collaged on a 5.25 x 11" piece of card stock that was formerly a calendar page |
project chopped into three postcards
and rearranged just for fun
