Back in the Slow Lane - Why I Need to Make Collage

Beginning

It’s been 3 months since my last collage piece and I’m wondering why I’ve been keeping this art form at arms length. I just haven’t been able to find my way back to this medium that had so intrigued me and had taught me the most about myself and the process of making art.

When I collage (verb), I create a picture using a host of paper scraps from all manner of places – glossy mags, wrapping paper, carrier bags and bog-basic cardboard; anything frankly that happens to catch my eye. I then use this stash of papery resources to create a new picture.

Over the months I’ve heard myself making all kinds of excuses to keep me from getting back to using collage. It’s ridiculously slow work and quite frankly the mess in my studio gets to me. But this week I suddenly knew I needed to return to the slow lane.

Middle

Why I love collage:

Collage work is a slow burn and progresses at a snails pace. It’s only as good as the paper scraps you find and the endless problem solving you are willing to stick with.

Collage allow you to take risks and experiment as much as you like. You can rip off scraps from the paper if you suddenly have second thoughts about them, or simply paste over… and move on.

You can’t plan too far ahead, because you don’t know what you’ll find as you flick through your magazines, so it keeps you in the moment and very present. But nothing is lost or discarded, because that scrap you have just put down might be just what you need tomorrow.

And because you can’t mix up or create the colours you want, you have to be very patient and stay searching for something that will work. You stay open and expectant that you’ll find what you need, so you are adapting all the time. For example, a silver spoon might become the plough behind a tractor (see my landscape piece on the home page).

Collage invites you to use your 3rd Eye (as if you’re squinting and taking in the whole), it doesn’t call for literalism. So this keeps you playful, ready to be surprised and delighted by any chance discoveries (like a beach comber).

This way of working takes you to a sweet place, where you are resigned to slowing down. Your movements become careful, your heart slows, the world slows too, as you allow the work to evolve and blossom in its own time.

It’s the best therapy ever!

End