the shimmering fields of imagetext...flaxen hued lushness as far as the eye can see. textures are plennyful—and i am but a simple farmer. lo, i share the bountiful harvest w u, why not! la amistad no me cuesta nada... collage is a little present i make for u and myself. and i’m the bow !
impossible to explain the years-long pull of collage. no national geographics past 1989...the level of material specificity mirrors a meticulous painterly gesture....
collage is a place where time converges. time’s melting conjectured outcomes, frozen, transmuted, folding in on themselves... collage is a place where dead futures live on.
i can’t really explain the allure of a bird in a photograph. a tenderly upturned wing. punctum!
collage is a place where all bets are off! infinite, absolute, glue residue on your fingertips.
i won. i lost. collage is an arena. every page is a new battle.
collage is freedom to nurture naive and tender feelings. drinking from the cup of collage means not being afraid to fumble stupidly, to make an ugly spread, to take it all apart and try again.
accumulation, detritus made sacred. ornament. filligreed little things. each scrap is a world.
in collage world, i am the arbiter of meaning.
in collage world, i get to decide what stays and what goes.
maybe it all should go. maybe i should go.
