Fixing the World

"In the Beginning Was the Song." 14" x 7.5" set mandala collage. Paper collage, vinyl 45 record on board, finished with polyurethane varnish. Hanger fixed on back. $145.00. SOLD

The portable* display I take to art shows includes a variety of quickly readable statements about mandalas, collage, and art in general.  One of the most commented upon quotations issued from my young friend, Abbie, who offered me her wisdom on a Saturday morning in January as we were collaging mandalas together on paper plates.

A detail from my booth at the Berkshire Crafts Fair, Great Barrington, Massachusetts, August 2011.

Risking redundancy, I now repeat what you can mostly read in the above photo:  “When you’re collaging you feel like you’re making something to fix the world.”  Abbie was 6 when she said that; I am compelled to tell you that at this writing, she is 7, for every bit of age is important to Abbie at this point in her life. To Abbie, as to many children, small things make a big difference.

If people who visit my booth smile when they read Abbie’s statement, they are incredulous when I show them a sample of the raw materials from which I create the mandalas, altered books, and other art works covering the walls and tables of my 10′ x 10′ space.  Like most normal, tidy people, I used to throw such paper bits in the trash.  Now my chosen profession has created in me a consciousness that compels me to save the scraps, and sometimes even the scraps of the scraps, because I know what they might amount to collectively after 2 to 200 hours of artistic processing.  For some reason I get a big kick out of turning what you see above into what you see below.

My booth at an art show in Johns Creek, Georgia, September 3, 4, 2011.

People who visit my booth at art shows often tell me that I have the patience of Job.  Actually, I don’t.  I’ve been known to slap machines–cars, computers, radios, CD players, etc.– that were not working according to my pleasure; it drives me nuts to get stuck behind slow walkers when I want to move fast.  Anyway, I know that Job’s patience was not that of a bean counter, but an existential, life-bending, faith-stretching patience burdened with extreme suffering.  If Job and I have anything in common, it is that we believe with all our hearts that the unpromising details will amount to something in the end, and we are usually rewarded.

Despite the fact that I am a woman of only average patience, I love this often-tedious work that I do full-time, every weekday, sometimes on Sundays, and even on my birthday.  Strangely, collaging is one of the primary ways I fix the world, or at least my world, the world that is my life.  I know that when I am feeling scattered, unfocused, at loose ends, maybe even a little worried, creating a small, beautiful-to-me object will help to center and settle me and put me in my right mind, which is not my fearful, calculating mind, but my creative mind.

I feel small in the cosmic scheme of things, and what I do seems likewise small.  Recently, however, I was reminded of what meteorologists sometimes call “the butterfly effect.”  The idea is that a butterfly fluttering its wings in, say, Beta Ho, China, where my mother used to swim as a child, might radiate a shift in air currents that could telegraphically alter the weather in, say, La Jolla, California, where I used to swim as a child.  It is, of course, difficult or impossible to measure and track the many slight influences that add up to weather, or a mood, a nice day, or a good life.  But I believe we must believe in them and consider that our own small part in the scheme of things may not be as small as it seems.

When Bill Moyers asked mythologist Joseph Campbell how one might save the world, Campbell directed Moyers to one’s most local and seemingly minor concern:  one’s self.  “The influence of a vital person vitalizes,” said Campbell.  “There’s no doubt about it.  The world without spirit is a wasteland. . . .  The thing to do is to bring life to it, and the only way to do that is to find in your own case where the life is and become alive yourself” (The Power of Myth, p. 149).

Creating is an act of spirit involving love, faith, and risk.  Collaging is my passion, my way of creating.  People sometimes mistake creativity as the province of artists alone.  That is not so.   Creativity is for everyone, whether artist, parent, teacher, physician, farmer, scientist, carpenter, engineer, secretary, waiter, politician, writer, software developer, business owner, minister, or even first-grade student.  The world has benefitted from the creative actions of people we have heard of and even more from those we have not.  All together we may not only fix the world but make it, in our own way, beautiful.

"The Last Words of David." 7.5" x 10" collage. Paper collage on metal, finished with polyurethane varnish. Hanger fixed on back. Text featured: "He that ruleth over men must be just, ruling in the fear of God. And he shall be as the light of the morning when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds, as the tender grass springing out of the earth by clear shining after rain." 2 Samuel 23: 3, 4. $135.00

________________

*”Portable” means that two people spending an hour loading, arranging, re-arranging, and sweating, can fit the entire display plus themselves into a Honda Odyssey without having to tow a trailer or tie things to the top of the van.

What’s the Use?

 

“The One Tree.” 2.5″ x 2.5″ x 1.25″. Mosaic paper collage on wood block, finished with polyurethane varnish. $45.00.

My upbringing, along with a certain aspect of my nature, occasionally lead me to question why I do what I do, which is Make Art.  On the face of it, a wood block with bits of paper glued to it seems useless, even to me.  Certainly it would seem, although pretty, also pretty useless to the people who reared and educated me. Even now, some of the people who visit my booth at art shows must surely go away with that opinion when they pick up the block and discover that it does not even open; it is not a box.  Although a box is not a complex technology, it does have a purpose–to hold things, to organize.  If I were to make a box and make it large enough, it could hold an entire collection of useless things–even my collaged blocks–and that would make it useful, but with some futility to its usefulness.

And it’s not far, then, to the question, “If I make useless things, am I useful?”

I am going to abandon this line of questioning before I get mired in it because it is impractical in its practicality.  Art, which masquerades as a materiality, is much more than that.  So, frankly, are we humans, whether or not we are lovers or makers of art.  The question “What’s the use?”, so delightfully musically elaborated upon in Leonard Bernstein’s Candide, is too small for who we are.  What we love is what we love, often for no good reason, or at least none that we

“Most This Amazing.” 2.5″ x 2.5″ x 1.25″. Mosaic paper collage on wood block, finished with polyurethane varnish. $35.00.

can articulate.  Furthermore, what cheers and encourages us in life–even makes it worth living–can often be proved by some scheme of logic to be gratuitous.  One could even say that life itself is gratuitous.  But we are here anyway, and that is what we must deal with–practically.  And here, also, is this collaged block.  

Perhaps the puzzled visitors to my art booth, upon discovering the block does not open, are not really asking “What’s the use?” but “How shall I relate to this thing?  How does it fit into my life.”

That is a personal question.  I can’t answer that for another person, any more than I can tell them what their favorite color should be, or with whom they should fall in love.  I like to see the art I make go home with people who have connected with it, even “fallen in love.”  Personally, that is why I buy art.  I can’t buy all the art I love, but I love the art I buy.

I cannot explain exactly how this works, but these apparently useless pieces I spend my days making do somehow, sometimes, in their abstractness and wordlessness, speak to people.  I am always surprised when somebody seems to “get it” because I’m not certain I always get it myself.  The thing I know is that I love to create and that there is nothing in the world I want to do more than what I am doing.  Somehow, sometimes, that message seems to be communicated in the art.

“The Quixotic Imagination.” 2.5″ x 2.5″ x 1.25″. Mosaic paper collage on wood block, finished with polyurethane varnish. $38.00.

 

The thing about handmade things, whether or not they have an apparent use, is that something of the spirit of their maker is invested in them, whether or not the maker or receiver are conscious of that being the case.  Every now and then I look around at the walls and surfaces of my home and realize that the many pieces of art I own are somehow challenging and comforting me, and also nurturing my own creative spirit.  Furthermore, they are giving me pleasure.

That is no small achievement for an inanimate object.

I am a great appreciator of the work of the British sculptor, Henry Moore, who died in 1986 at age 88.  In a 1964 article published in a French journal, Moore is quoted.  “I believe that art in itself is akin to religion,” he said.  “Art is, in fact, another expression of the belief that life is worth living.”  

 

“Rest at the Center.” 2.5″ x 2.5″ x 1.25″. Mosaic paper collage on wood block, finished with polyurethane varnish. $38.00.

If I may borrow a religious term, art is “sacramental.”  It does not just sit there, it speaks, it conjures connections, stirs our feelings and imaginations, surprises, delights, and moves us, and reminds us of how wonderful it can be to be a human being.  An artwork conveys something of its creator when that person is in his or her very best mind, which is the creative mind through which the artwork came to being.  Furthermore, it is emblematic of some sort of striving and triumph, the completion of a tiny heroic quest undertaken in order to create the artwork. A work of art presents us, then, with a living experience, perhaps stirring to life some beauty sleeping within us.  Now I am not saying that any of the art images I’ve posted here are necessarily doing that for you, but I am saying that there is art that can speak to you like a friend, and that is personal and valuable.  Maybe even, in the grand scheme of things, useful.

“La Balance.” 2.5″ x 2.5″ x 1.25″. Mosaic paper collage on wood block, finished with polyurethane varnish. $38.00.

  • Calendar

    • August 2017
      M T W T F S S
      « Sep    
       123456
      78910111213
      14151617181920
      21222324252627
      28293031  
  • Search