Here are two new collages with some mosaic variations. A one-minute slide show follows. Without spilling any beans I can say it’s about my book and the timing of assistance.
With newly revised timetable in hand, onward and upward. Must: write query letters; make progress on list of agents; write elevator speech for plot of novel.
In the meantime, I am soooo happy to report that my 30+ year old front crown was removed without mishap yesterday. The underlying post remained intact. No implant necessary. Yeah! I don’t even mind that the temporary crown, which I will get to wear to Los Angeles this month, is green. I kid you not!
I will leave you with two screen shots from yesterday and this thought: if I see Steve Bannon in handcuffs in November, Christmas will have come early — in spite of the faux outrage already being ginned up by the right wing.
It’s one thing to vary photo layers and filters endlessly in a kind of obsessive and focused play. It’s another matter altogether to manage the volume of results. I get attached to these collages! What am I supposed to DO with them?
Cleaning up the downstairs study closet affords one idea: group images and print on both paper and cloth. I found print-ready silk, cotton, stickers, and loads of archival paper. What am I saving it all for?
Printing from my phone is a pain in the ass in terms of centering or sizing images, so I may have to go back to downloading onto PC and working through Photoshop elements. Ugh. I really want to preserve a body of work and in so doing, create another body of work, but I want simplicity of process!
Must also consider copyright issues. I cannot sell collages that use recognizable and/or untransformed work by other artists. Is that MOST of my collages? Maybe.
My vision of small booklets posted for purchase gets quickly dashed.
Today it’s wet. It rained hard throughout the night. I know because I was awake for a lot of it.
I’ll close with a few screen shots. Food for thought and images of — what else? — cloth!
And so it goes, obsessively, with this weekly visual prompt challenge from the Paris Collage Collective. I’m sorry if this gets to be too much, but given how many iterations I produce, there’s this need to document at least some of them here.
When I cut the male silhouette out of a magazine ad (above), by removing his knee, the lower shadow took on the appearance of a dress which, by association, transformed the dreadlocks into the knots and folds of a head scarf.
On an unrelated note, the other night when I couldn’t sleep I stepped outside and walked across the lawn to shoot the moon between the branches of our big black walnut tree.
Just as I reached out to open the front door, a man made his way along the street. Dressed head to toe in khaki, middle-aged, he creeped me the fuck out. I mean it was 2:30. Maybe I shouldn’t have read Stephen King’s The Outsider?
K went into the office this morning and Finn and I accompanied him to the T. The cool gray 7:00 am hour was quiet. Pleasant. And, since I didn’t really sleep last night, it was good to get the walk in before I crump.
Came home, vacuumed studio and then cranked out a few collages. The clean up and organizing around here is gaining momentum. Garage and basement. Ooh boy! This rhododendron-hand collage has two sides. In part, this represents the long-standing quilter’s appreciation for the “other” side of compositions. It’s also a result of watching with curious interest as Jude creates two-sided quilts — each side with composed patchwork, the stitching going through.
I’m liking torn edges and learning to place dark colors under them to showcase them. When flipping a collage over, I find the serendipity of the other side of magazine pages fun — in this instance, the dishes in the lower left. Here, I made two variations of the rhodie/bubble digital collage and then split up a single Natl Geo page of an ancient sculpture. So the two sides are thematically related.
I’d already been working on the photo of bubbles provided by the Paris Collage Collective this week, using — what else? — house images. There are : some old photos of a house form stenciled in reverse on a page of the NYTimes, a collage from Acey’s 2019 prompts and, in one of them, a red version color xerox of a collage creates in SF of a Northampton house I lived in. Further down, are variations using three different house quilts.
We might get as much as one inch of rain an hour starting this afternoon. But it isn’t likely we’ll lose power. It took SIX TRUCKS working all day to repair the toppled street light and busted transformer around the corner that I mentioned recently. I cannot begin to imagine how long it’s gonna take Louisiana.
Communications seems to be up as an issue right now. My own and others’ blunders. Expectations dashed, then revised. Opinions yanked around. Sometimes I just want to crawl into a hole and suck my thumb.
This conversation, nearly verbatim, happens to an embarrassing degree in our house. I’m not sure whether it speaks more to being married for more than thirty years or to being over-reliant on our devices.
It was really too hot to be poking around scrub land behind retail space in search of sumac, but there we were. Finn’s tags fell off somewhere along the way this week necessitating a trip to Pet Co. We left the dog home and brought along gloves, spade, and two empty containers.
My mother was famous for plant-grabbing. She’d drive up into the woods behind our house in Pittsfield as far as the road would go, and fill the trunk with small trees which eventually, of course, became big trees. My brother claims she got permission from the landowner. I’m not so sure.
I’d seen her pull over on Route 43 or Dalton Road and dig up what to any other eye might appear to be a weed, perhaps with a spoon that she happened to have in the glove box. A little savage. Let’s just say she was a resourceful opportunist with a very good eye. This being her birth week, I figured why not honor her with my own sly acquisitions?
Last weekend, we more legitimately came by a clethra and a yew. These are all for the fence line along the back edge of the property. I also had to buy and plant two flats of pachysandra which the workers stomped to extinction on my neighbor’s property. Part of the price of our new fence.
And speaking of that neighbor. The son has come home with his girlfriend to live and turns out, the girlfriend is interested in learning how to quilt. Would I want a student? I almost said no, but I’m already thinking what I’d bring to a casual show and tell for a first lesson. And if the main reason I don’t want to proceed is because I can’t think what to charge a recent college grad with no job, then is that really a reason?
I sent my neighbor away with a few books and gave her Jude’s blog’s name. Ruth McDowell’s too. The young woman is an engineer so it occurred to me that McDowell’s precise piecing method may appeal to her. That’s a place to start, answering the question: What are you drawn to?
Meanwhile, I finished this with a little help from my friends (speaking of Jude, also Maggie and Jenn) (mostly re: a disappearing head. I think I fixed it!)