Skip to main content

new collage: redeemable

 
"redeemable"
mixed media collage on wood door
found papers, acrylic paint, found objects, glue
august, 2012


 
 in general, i have no problem getting rid of things.  i am prone to throwing things out in the name of neatness, because i don't like messes.  but when it comes to art and my creative sense, i am sometimes about a half a step away from being a hoarder.  i see potential and beauty and meaning in the most basic objects.  so what you see (or don't see at all!) as a discarded gum wrapper lying beside the road, waiting for some community servant to come poke with a stick, i see as a splash of pink that might help me say just what i want to say on a canvas.  or sometimes, as in the case of this new collage, it is the canvas itself that is a rescued object. 

two years, only a couple of months after we had moved to central pennsylvania, we were driving one night when we passed a wooden door by the side of the road, in front of a house.  there was a sign hanging on the door, and the sign spoke that word that even as i think of it now sends goosebumps running across my skin: FREE. 

shannon:  why are we stopping? 
greg:  i just want to check it out.
shannon:  greg, it's a door.
greg:  yeah, i see that.  i want to take a look.
shannon:  why?  we don't need a door. 
greg:  not for such utilitarian uses as you may be accustomed to, but maybe for my art.
shannon:  (voice raising) greg, no way.  it's  huge.  how are you even going to put it in the v...(van door shuts)

needless to say we went home with the door that night.  and it has been sitting in my art room ever since.  and while i am certain that shannon has, on more than one occasion, shaken her head at me and knowingly thought to herself that i would never do anything with it, i finally have!  i finally felt inspired to use it as my canvas for a new collage. 

first i covered it with vintage papers.  then i washed the whole thing in a white acrylic wash.  then i collaged over the vintage papers, creating a cross that appears to be behind the door, in a way, or on the other side.  i was somewhat compelled by the sheer size of the cross: lifesize. 

below are a bunch of details of the collage itself, including the skeleton key that i found and put in the door as an added element.  it's sort of big for storing, and i don't really expect to be able to sell such a big piece, so we'll have to see if i can find a happy little home for it somehow. 







 


 

Comments

Nice pictures you have shared and good described... Thanks for sharing this wonderful post.

Popular posts from this blog

#thoughtsandprayers

i made these comments and prayed the following prayer at one of our worship services at SPWF yesterday, and had a few folks asked if i would post them, so there they are: 
It has been a season of terrible tragedy.  And I have noticed in the news a trending phrase: thoughts and prayers.  It even has its own hashtag on twitter and other social media, but net necessarily in a good way.  People are understandably tired of hearing about others’ thoughts and prayers, when that is only a thinly-veiled way of saying that our only obligation to those who suffer is a brief moment of silence, or nothing more than a tweet or public statement.  The truth is that, for those of us who follow Jesus, much is required when our neighbors suffer.  We are called to do justice where we can, to love kindness and mercy, and to walk with God through it all.  But let us be careful not to throw out the proverbial baby with the bathwater.  We are, as people of faith, those who know that prayer is not simply an em…

a divided tree

there is a tree in my back yard.  i'm pretty sure it's an oak tree.  at least that's what i think Shannon told me.  i don't know my oaks from my maples, my elms from my locusts.  to me, it's a tree: a corinthian column bursting up into life and glory.  full of sap and pulp and rings and bugs and cells pulsing with water and always reaching for something.  it is full of rhythm, reach and flourish then fall and die, and repeat. 

this particular tree, though, isn't of one mind. 

half of it's rusted orange leaves have given up their grip and surrendered -gracefully or not - to the pull of gravity and the threat of winter.  the north side of this inauspicious oak is just about bare naked, all sticks and straight lines, a skeleton of itself.  but the side that looks south is stubbornly resisting change.  no longer green, the leaves have compromised their summer vibrancy, but they are clearly not ready to concede death just yet. 

i feel like i can relate to this …

vote. and pray. but do not be afraid (the King is alive).

i'm not sure how many americans right now are feeling optimistic about the government.  i know i'm not.  in fact, while i didn't live through the civil war or anything, i have to think that faith in our elected leaders - indeed the whole system of electing them in the first place - is at one of its lowest points.  i just don't have a great deal of confidence in those individuals who have been elected, or in those who want to be.  i find myself slipping at times into what feels like a swamp of apathy: sinking, to be sure, but not sure that i care enough anymore to do much about it.  i see this attitude all around me: in conversations, on social media, and in popular culture.  perhaps there is no more clear indication of our nation's view of the government than this current election season, when we would teeter on electing liars and thieves, crooks and clowns. 

which is why i was so startled as i sat down to read psalm 72 this morning. as i read the ancient song, i…