Focusing on one thing for days on end becomes monotonous. It becomes myopic. It stirs insanity and cabin fever.
I like to branch out. I find working in one medium to be boring and droll. I think it is fantastic that some artists perfect one task and work it endlessly to every possible finish imaginable and then find more ways to manipulate some more. And, on some levels, I envy this skill. On the road map of creativity my path takes a few hairpins and tunnels, and one of the detours in my agenda is collage.
Collage is the visual remixing of life. It is a creation of fantasy arrangements or advertisements for (in)sanity. It is a way to piece together unspeakable emotions that are somehow captured during the moments of haute-couture runway shoots and psychiatric medication commentaries. Collage is very versatile. Though not always forgiving, errors can be simply cut away and new material can be glued over in place. You can weave legs and layers of flowers into combinations only imaginable to science fiction writers and horny teenage boys. It is simple, accessible, and requires the most minimal and inexpensive of tools: some cardboard, scissors, glue and few old magazines.
Sometimes when you get lost trying to make images you must return instead to images already made. In the process of trying to speak the language we forget the text. We go back to read again what we learned from and cut out the pieces of the puzzle we failed to understand prior.