Fragments and collages
An essay…
In 2015, I created a piece titled Incomplete Memory. Its dimensions are 2’ x 4’. The concept was about how fragments come together to create a full memory and a full story. This artwork is the closest I have been to making a collage type of work. The entire piece was gridded and divided in small fragments. The letters of the words incomplete memory were woven in the grid through color.
Collages had never been a strong interest of mine. At least, not enough to pursue it as a practice. Lately however, I rediscovered the collage and it has taken a hold of me. A class on Skillshare taught by Tracey Capone opened this new path for me. That, and I have a lot of work or beginnings of work that I will never use for which the idea of collaging was ideal.
Making these collages has provided me time to think about fragments, pieces, segments, and how they come together to make a whole. Memories and relationships are like collages. Each one of us has a memory of a period, of a moment, or a time in our lives. That memory is a fragment. It may not be really complete until we share that memory with others who were also part of the particular moment or experience. Their memories are also the fragments we need to complete the collage.
Life too, is a collage of relationships. Each relationship contributes a fragment to our lives and we contribute a fragment to theirs. Some say that each person in our relationships brings something out of us that no one else can. A certain spark, energy, light, compassion, cheeriness, or even darkness.
It makes sense. We are slightly different depending on who we are with and where we are. A symbiotic dynamic is formed of which we are only partly aware. It is also part of the reason a parent will like or not like a particular friendship.
Each friendship brings a fragment to our collage and it may or may not fit. Much like a collage, we can modify and adjust both theirs and our fragments to test if it fits better. Sometimes it works and other times, we have no option but to move along without those fragments.
Our memories are fragments, pieces we need to stack up with others to complete our collage. When my Dad died there was one brief moment when we, his four children, shared something about him. We were standing by the casket and we all said something. We saw a different side of him and each of our memories made a full picture, a full collage. Not all was good. Especially for one of us. But that was the collage.
Sometimes the collage will be spectacular but other times it will be dreadful. Nonetheless it is a collage, our collage. My appreciation for collages has grown significantly since I took the class with Tracey Capone. I never really know what is going to look like at the end and sometimes calling it done is a complete is agony, but not in a bad way.
I thought I would end this post with some images of my recent collages.
Much love,
Alma