Like I somewhat hinted in my last post, I’m working on finishing some paintings right now — isolation coating and varnishing. With space at a premium here, I haven’t had the room to work on many larger projects.
Instead, I’ve been going building up my stocks of collage materials. I don’t collage often, though it’s something I enjoyed a lot when I was younger, but I still enjoy having a ready supply of pictures for inspiration. It can be an interesting kind of introspection, in its own way.
I haven’t really found any rhyme or reason for how certain pictures strike me. It’s more likely to be a lovely color or quality of the light than the subject itself. Some fill me with a sense of peace, but others almost immediately give me an unbearable melancholy. A lonely photo of some piece of vintage tat, under the harsh, jaundiced glare of artificial lighting did it once. So did a picture of a generically beautiful model trying her hardest to make a dowdy floral nightgown look elegant, smile brittle and chilly as she stood on the porch of a home that was not hers.
I haven’t found a pattern to these, no connecting thread. I imagine that it’d grant a lot of insight if I could, but that would probably involve keeping track of which images elicit which feelings. (I really don’t mind looking at things others might consider gory or disturbing, but I don’t think I have the stomach to maintain an archive the weirdly sad and unsettling.)
Some of the pictures I’m drawn to will be trimmed and used for collages or mixed media pieces, others might be used to make beads. I haven’t decided yet. It’s often not an answer I have until I’m sitting with a folder thick with pictures.
I’m eager to see what they become.