This weekend, while moving from my usual studio (our dining room), to a new one (our spare bedroom), I came upon a note in an old journal that made me smile at how amazingly our brains connect things we may not easily see, unless we are looking. 

The note was for a collage I made years ago using rectangular pieces of tissue paper. I had used this collage, without much thought, as the background for a new one (see Linda’s Gaze, 2nd photo), because I thought the colors and shapes went well with the rest of the image. What I have realized however, is it actually represents something much deeper. 

The note reminded me that the first collage was done in 2020, and is a depiction of our daughter and her friends, a bunch of kids excited to go away for college who were suddenly pulled back home unexpectedly. Unable to meet closely because of social distancing, they came up with the idea of driving separately to a quiet area, parking in a circle facing out, and sitting in the trunks of their own cars so they could talk, process what was happening, and still be safe. 

Like so much of the world at that time, we were scared. I remember worrying about her going out to meet her friends, and also worrying about her not going out to meet her friends. Feeling relief that they were taking things seriously, and upset that they had to go through the trouble. I felt awe at their ingenuity, and wanted to somehow capture it. All of it.  

There were scraps on my desk (there are always scraps on my desk), and I recall quickly gluing them down while making dinner, trying to catch the image I saw in my head, until I could go back and do something more substantial.

So did I choose that particular collage, to use as the background of a piece honoring someone who creates safe places, just because I liked the colors and shapes? Obviously there was something of substance already going on. 

Making art is a way of seeing, forming connections. It’s all there to find, if we take the time to look. Trust the process. Trust yourself.