The Process
Flowers fascinate me, from the itty-bitty ones buried in the grass to the dramatic, glorious white magnolia blossoms. I should wear a bumper sticker that says “This person stops for flowers!”
Most of my collages begin by cutting out a photo I've taken of a flower, cropped (occasionally, minimally enhanced) in Photoshop and printed at the proper size. It's amazing how just the elimination of background allows you to SEE and thus, feel each floral manifestation's uniqueness. There are elegant ones, perky ones, intricate ones and solidly cheerful ones, each personality expressed through the details of shapes, textures, lines and colors.
Then comes the messy part. A search begins, to find what will complement the feelings and colors of the star attraction. I pull out all sorts of papers (solid colored mulberry, Oriental yuzen, my home-made paste paper) fabrics (new, vintage, lace, silk, painted cheesecloth), yarns (ladder, fur, raw dyed wool), ribbons, and “stuff.” I play with various combinations, paying attention to how they trigger other directions, materials and concepts. The pile is reduced and selections are made. It's always a bit anxiety-producing to contemplate cutting out certain portions to capture specific lines or colors in expensive, handmade papers. What if the idea doesn't work? But eventually a commitment is required and the creative process is in gear. Whenever the process begins to feel forced and I hear myself saying, “There's got to be a way to make this work!” — that's the time I take a break. Perhaps an hour does it, or overnight or several days. Then freshness prevails issuing from a new idea, a new approach, or maybe even, a start over!
The process of finding the magic, when I can say, “That's it!” is addictive. Yet there is an elusiveness hiding behind the magic. Yes, this piece of marbled paper creates just the excitement I am looking for and I proceed to rearrange other portions of the collage to build on the excitement. Oops, not so, and the magic whooshes into the ethers. Attempts, one after another to recapture the magical arrangement, fail. Remarkably, in many instances, the mistakes, the failures become the precious, crimson thread that leads me to trying something I've never done before, a new direction, a new technique. It's been a life lesson.
There are no mistakes, just opportunities to discover new doorways. The delight of uncovering, of tapping the bottomless source of creativity never grows old.
Card without and with hand-painted glitter
Below you can see a part of an original printed card, then the same card after I've decorated it by hand.
Note: Your computer color reproduction will not do justice to the actual card.
