Dear Reader,
How does an artist and writer know when the piece in progress
is finished? Does it whisper, “I’m done now. Don’t
add to or change another part of me.”? Send messages via
puffs of air, like thought-balloons in a cartoon? Leave coded
scraps of paper on the floor that shimmer in the dark? Does
it stop shouting, “Hey, I’m not done yet!” when
you turn to walk away?
All of the above happens and more.
In the case of my most recent collages, the usual honeymoon
period when I look at a piece and feel satisfied lasted about
a day and a half. Until then, I was happy with the color. I
was happy with the design. I knew it was a diptych, so I turned
both 36” by 18” canvases in all four directions until
they felt balanced. The two shared the same colors in similar,
yet different configurations.
Then the inner voice began – “So what?
Where is the magic here? Where’s the joy?” Evidently,
my series “If Joseph Cornell..” was not done with
me (please see Judy’s Journal, 2023 May). I piled my stack
of gardening magazines onto the counter, picked up my scissors,
and began my search for…what I did not know. Particular
flowers? Colors? Shapes? I knew and didn’t know what to
look for, but when I found it, I knew I had it. That last sentence
is the stuff of artmaking, the zone of creativity where feeling
is the only guide to doing what comes next. A feeling without
words, or weight, or sound, or smell.
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“If Joseph Cornell…11 &
12”
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