I was invited to hop by Indiana Rogers—you can give her wonderful work a look at http://fakefineart.tumblr.com/. Thanks, Indiana. The hopping perpetuates by asking others along for the ride: On Monday, July 14, you’ll want to check out my three invitees:
I continue to experiment with expanding the uses of paper in my collage. Right now I’m working on achieving painterly effects through building layerings with transparencies and abrasions. I’m at the point where I’m getting pretty good at handling fine work, such as transferring the colored edges of old book pages to the substrate paper (second photo). You might wonder why anybody would want to do that. I think maybe it’s just because I can. I’m also shopping for a gallery to host an exhibition of works for the international collage collaboration that I run, The Target Practice Project.
How Does Your Work Differ From Others of Its Genre?
I typically use multiple layers of paper in a piece, often more than a dozen, and I remove a lot of that in the (de)construction process. I often embed secret words and hidden jokes within the layerings, both to feed my own interior humor machine and to reward viewers who engage with the work in sustained looking. My pieces, which explore issues relating to women, society, and family life, are fairly literal. Unless abstraction tells the story better. Likewise, if I need to add additional media (such as inks, charcoal, or even mica splits), to help solidify expression, I don’t hesitate to do that.
Why Do You Create What You Do?
I’m content-driven. If I don’t have something to say, I’ll work in my garden or clean the bird feeders instead.
How Does Your Creative Process Work?
I’m very conscious of creating connections between past and present when I work, and my process is more intentional than intuitive. But having something that needs to be said is like beating a war drum—the right scraps of paper inevitably find their way to hand. I don’t think I will ever understand how this happens, but it does. Once the materials show up, the layering starts, and I begin to stratify. I like to think that the layers I build—and deconstruct—are criss-crossing the boundaries between memory and time, suggesting that we humans exist on a continuum. It’s a meticulous process and sometimes things take a long time, but that’s okay. I get to where I’m going eventually, and if I don’t, I just collage over it.