Ever since I was little, any magazines I could get my hands on, I would cut to pieces. And as a little left-handed kid, this proved to be quite the feat (if you are left-handed, you know what I mean). I have always been absolutely enamored by magazines. When I would be standing in the checkout line of Harris Teeter, my mom would practically have to pull me away from the People magazines. I loved looking at the fonts and photographs. The bright colors and bedazzled dresses of the Katie Holmes’ and Kim Kardashian’s of the world.
My parents aren’t exactly the People Magazine type, but our house is filled with subscriptions of
Bon Appétit, Sunset Magazine and National Geographic, in perfect stacks tucked into the corners of rooms. As I got older, I added my fair share of In Style and Vogue to the collection. I learned I was a visual person through these magazines, drawn to the pictures that each page painted. With endless bottles of Mod Podge and some kitchen scissors, I tore apart these pages and started creating my own, adding photos of my friends and I into the mix. The walls of my room are now covered in the collage art I have created throughout the years, and the thing I love most about each piece is that there is really no rhyme or reason to them, at all.
Before I go on about my art, there is something you should know about me - I am a color between the lines type of person. I am a rule follower, I am organized, and I am structured. And, I have always been hyper-aware of these traits, wanting to be someone who colors outside of the lines. Collaging challenges perfectionism head on. It forces me to break out of my comfort zone and be MESSY. When I collage, I don’t follow any rules, and I just create. It puts me into a headspace that I am rarely in, as I furiously flip through pages, ripping out anything and everything that catches my eye. I’m not focused on cutting straight lines, just listening to the random assortment of colors that are speaking to me that day. Once I have a pile of jagged pieces spread across the floor, I can finally start to build a picture from the bottom up. I want every little scrap to fit evenly and bleed smoothly into the one next to it, but it rarely does, and thank God for that! It’s when something fits terribly in my plan that I take a step back and look at the whole picture with a fresh set of eyes. I can then imagine and rearrange the piece in a way that contradicts my entire initial plan, because moving one piece means moving just about every other one too. After many rounds of this process, it randomly falls into place. And then, to glue every piece down, I have to mess it all up again.
This past winter, I was itching to create. I was back at home over break and needed something to put built up energy into, so my best friend Haley and I drove to Michaels, and I set out to buy the biggest canvas I could find. When we got to the store and I picked up the 30in by 40in canvas, I froze. Suddenly feeling like this was way too big of a project for me. I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to fill up every inch, creeping back into my comfortable space between the lines. Haley, probably the most outside of the lines person I know, took the canvas out of my hands, carried it above her head, and told me I was buying it. This is one of the many reasons she is my best friend. Using only New York Times newspapers, I took the next week to create my favorite collage yet. It’s my favorite because it frustrated me to no end, and it’s a huge. As I started to fill it in, I would poll my family members, asking them if they liked where I put a particular piece. They always told me yes, and I would agree, take another look, and then end up moving it again, and again, and again. I was asking them because I wasn’t satisfied with it yet. If I have to ask, I know it’s not right. And then finally, it fell into place. It probably took close to 10 hours to create, but collaging makes me lose all concept of time. I get lost in the cutouts of Marilyn Monroe, a sunset over the pacific, or a graphic accompanying an article on vaccination trends. I put these random pieces together for no reason other than it just feels right. The colors and corners speak for themselves, and I listen.
To me, collaging is an adventure of the mind. It opens up the avenues I keep tightly closed most hours of the day, and I get to explore them fully. This shows the importance of having a hobby. Having a project to work on, having something to challenge you, having a space to create. Creating satisfies different itches for different people. For me, creating collages allows me to be messy and unstructured, and lets color lead the way.
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