The beginnings of “Consider” & “Wither”

It’s been a week since my husband and I attended a collages class together. Since then I’ve had some time to process the experience and to experiment on my own. Here are some of my key observations and learnings from the past several days…

Artists aren’t necessarily teachers
That’s apparent no matter their talent. I would even wager to guess that the more talent they have, the less effective they are in the classroom; perhaps they’ve achieved success by a certain standard, so works of another creative bent or caliber might not be seen as worthwhile or up to par. Don’t get me wrong, they’re often the right people from whom to learn new techniques. However, these aren’t always the people who are generous with applause or encouragement, no matter how far we rookies have come in applying ourselves or how unique our views on and expressions of the world. That’s my perception of artists turned art instructors these days anyway; I might sing a different tune after I attend another class.

I don’t like to wait
The techniques we learned in class took some patience. First, there was waiting for background paint to dry, then the substance we used to do image transfers. After all that, we had to rub and wipe, then rub and wipe some more and again and again to release the paper upon which the image transfer originated. This kind of start-stop-start-stop approach to art seems to prevent entrance into my best creative zone. In all honesty, I detest it.

I dig contemplative collage
So here’s the bottom line… Though the methods we learned in class are probably seen as more prestigious or professional, I have a fondness for good old-fashioned paper collage: taking images from old magazines and other sources, cutting them apart, and creating a whole new scene with the bits and pieces.

Over the past few days, I’ve started two collages: one currently titled “Consider” and inspired by Luke 12:27, and the other currently titled “Wither” and inspired by Isaiah 40:8. I love starting with something to contemplate, then turning it around in my heart and mind while hunting for images that seem to resonate with it. In other words, this kind of art-making gets me into “the zone.” This is where I find joy and meaning. This is a how I expect I’ll continue to grow and learn most as an artist and human being.