Some years ago, during a period in which theater had kicked in me in the teeth, I started hanging out on the internet doing everything crafty BUT theater. I started with collage sites, and ended up keeping a visual journal for the next several years. I have tried and failed at drawing, so mostly what I keep/have kept are "glue books." You look at the paper that surrounds you every day, and you stick some of it together in some fashion that means something to you at the time. I've branched out from that a bit to artist trading cards, and making my own embellished papers, and scrapbooking ... it all ends up informing other projects.
I haven't felt like I have any worthwhile words lately, so I thought maybe I'd go back to pictures for a while, and see if that sparks anything. It's like the all purpose warm up you have with any activity: stretching, contour drawing, improv, daily pages, whatever.
Grabbed a couple lousy pictures from my little laptop Lola's webcam. Here are days one and two of this new project.The main material I'm ripping up is the October issue of Vogue. No doubt there will be additions as I go along. This is a dangerous pastime for packrats. (It's good to know when to let go of paper, otherwise you start to look like those poor sods on Hoarders.)
The text here reads "mixed emotions" They're done on 5x8 cards, and I'm gluing them in my journal. These are all wrinkly as I'm using an odd bottle of Elmer's glue I found in the supply closet here at work. I keep forgetting to bring in a new glue stick.
Text reads "Tuesday morning, perpetual stationery object." There doesn't need to be text, but I usually find a word or a phrase popping out at me as I page throught the magazine looking for some color or texture or expression that seems to reflect how I'm feeling on any given day.
Tuesday I was looking for something along the lines of "vague" or "unfocused" ... and the little strip of pink is flower petals, a little signatory of trying to track down a friends home address to send her flowers after the recent death of her father. Hidden flashes that speak to me when I look back on these pages. Often I can remember pretty clearly the act of creation even years later. The sketching crowd talks about this in terms of their connecting with what they are drawing.
This is my way to connect without the pressure of having to make things look "right."
Sometimes I don't even know why the images I choose speak to me ... it's enough that connections are being made. Which satisfies something in me that longs for connections to other things, other people. All from a few magazine ads and some gluey fingers.