I like a good obsession. I like the way a random something catches my attention and creates a tripwire in my brain, making sure I notice it every time it drifts by. There was a spell in the middle of last year when it was peek-a-boo views of black and white stripes, thin and closely spaced, the stoccato intensity drumming against my senses a fragment at a time.
I blame/credit/laud Danielle Krysa because I'm sure it started with here with this collage from her Fluff 'n Puff series that now lives with me:
After the first glimpse of that striped jacket draped over a disembodied arm, there was a large piece of similarly patterned paper I tried to keep track of but eventually lost in the perpetual reshuffling of my studio. There was a wrapper, probably from a Hershey's Hug, ironed flat by many car tires. It ended up in my bag where it almost got mixed up with real trash, and now it is also lost in my studio. I saw those stripes again on the floor of a friend's studio not long after, and then on a crumpled, torn section of a flyer on a kiosk.
Houses, man. I just can't resist a good house motif, so when I saw stripes + a house in Nick Larsen's work, my artist heart gave a twirl of delight. It's even got clouds, the fluffy kind with a little bit of subtle drama, that appear in my phone's camera roll with generous frequency.
It didn't take long for me to snag a copy of Nick's book Old Haunts, Lower Reaches which taps into yet another obsession: artist books. I love when artists document their work, especially when the publication emphasizes their style. It's the transcendent cherry on top of a delicious sundae and I don't mind having shelves and shelves of these volumes adding to the already precarious situation that is my desk.
See also: everything from Paperback Records, such as this art zine of Jack Felice's collages 2024-2025.
I enjoy the collection aesthetic of Jack's style, the same way I enjoy the collection aesthetic of French artist Lyndie Dourthe's artwork:
Speaking of a collection aesthetic, I must mention the way Sophie Smallhorn's (UK) art makes me all pitter-patter-y, especially when it comes to the pieces like this:
This is the style documented in Works from Counter-Print Books, which I still can't believe I don't own despite having the book on my wishlist for A Long Time. To be fair, it's more out of self-preservation than anything. I can't recommend following Counter-Print Books in any way because the temptation is too strong. Their books are bangers, is what I'm saying, and getting one just makes you want 5 more.
If you're losing track of the obsessions, here's where we stand:
- black and white hairline stripes
- houses
- fluffy clouds
- artist books
- collection-style artworks
- more artist books
I'm also obsessed with the visual language suggested by ribbons of asphalt applied over cracks in the road. For years this infatuation has manifested in photo albums on my phone. A couple of weeks ago the county road crew came out and scraped the roads, planing off layers of these ribbons, and that is how such material ended up in my studio. Other roadside debris that can be found in my studio? Completely smushed and pancaked aluminum cans. Sections of broken glass bottles held in place by their clear plastic labels. A car's side mirror, shattered but still in the enclosing fixture. A smattering of crazed and faded plastic pieces.
Some of my obsessions are simply colors. There's the flowering quince at the entrance to our neighborhood that doesn't bloom nearly long enough for me to cement its exact placement on a color wheel. I forget about it and then spring comes back around and again I try to memorize it and fail. There's the way a color appears more striking in the plane of a reflection than in it's fully dimensional glory, like how late afternoon light limns clouds in golden pinks or the arresting beauty of illumination reflected in the dark mirrors of puddles at night.
I could go on. I could expound, à la any book or blog or Bluesky post by author Tom Cox, on the many extraordinary and fascinating things that surround us. But I'll leave you to investing your own attention.
Collage court? It's really a thing.
As a recipient of a Creative Arts Grant from the City of Bothell (WA) and 4Culture, I get to do a series of collage sessions in a variety of venues, including the courtroom for Bothell's Community Court program. While that particular session is not open to the public, the upcoming ones at Bothell library are! All supplies are provided, it's free of charge, and all ages are welcome.
Last year I said I wasn't going to teach anymore. Plot twist!
Here are 4 classes I'm offering at Schack Art Center in Everett, WA where I've been hanging out since last October.
Here's the link to Schack's collage classes. They will be fun classes because each one is connected to one of my particular creative obsessions and that enthusiasm, fair warning, is contagious:
Artist Trading Cards! I love how they are tiny encapsulations of an artist's style and whatever they are experimenting with at the time. I have hundreds in my collection from trading with other artists since 2020, and I'm bringing lots of them so you can see how you can really do a lot with a 2.5x3.5-inch piece of paper. The image above shows a few I made for a swap earlier this year. I got so carried away I made way more than I needed and I have zero regrets about this.
Colorwork! A few color basics can transform an okay collage into a great collage, and color is probably my primary lens when working with found material. This is how I ended up organizing an entire exhibition of monochrome collages last summer!
Breaking a collage, aka Bouquet Collages! I can't wait to do this class. It's happening during Sorticulture, Everett's annual Garden Arts Festival. I'm of the opinion that a collage isn't finished unless you break it somehow and we're going to put that to the test in this class. Did I come up with a themed class just so I could sneak this process into it? Absolutely.
Making collages as a group project. This might be the class I'm most excited about. I don't want to say collaboration is hard, but making art is an unusual animal as it is, and just when you think you understand the creature that is your individual art, your creature encounters someone else's and it's very much a dance to transform them into another being entirely. I've had it go fantastically smooth and carefree, and I've it go quite the other direction. This is a practice run and a way to experience the surprises and twists of collaboration without being committed to a deadline or finished result.
You've made it to the end of this newsletter and for that you deserve applause and maybe some ice cream. I'm not sorry if you some of my obsessions embed in your brain, too. I'd love to hear about something you're obsessed with lately in the realm of creative curiosity!
Finally, does your community need whistles? The whistlesmiths are still printing and shipping, and we do so at no charge, from 100 to 3000 at a time. You can request them directly from me (I received a generous donation of 3D printing filament from Protopasta for this very purpose) or you can use the request email here.
Until next time,
Andrea
