I started collaging at a young age, maybe seven or eight, when my mom would ask before throwing out her old magazines if I wanted to look through and do anything with them. I would ask her, “You’re just going to throw them away?” She’d say, yes, she’d already read them and that was that. Some part of me was never okay with that, and maybe it’s the secret hoarder in me or maybe it’s something more meaningful, something about how I don’t want to see the work, writings and art that’s already been printed end up useless after one or two reads, but I always wanted to find some use for what would otherwise be considered useless. Collaging presented the perfect solution.
Collaging, as a practice, is art. It’s an act of adaptation and revival for that which has already been created, and an opportunity to take other people’s art and make it into your own, presenting a unique chance for imagination and self-expression.
All you need, really, for a collage is some form of magazine or newspaper, a pair of scissors and some glue. You can spice it up by printing out images or quotes, adding in your own writing or other textures, but a basic collage? Almost anyone can do it. Looking at the basic principles and set up of a collage, it’s simple, yet in practice, I’ve found it can present challenges, particularly when it comes to how to create and what you create.
I was recently in a conversation where someone asked me how I collage. Stumped, I didn’t know how to answer. I just do, I wanted to say. But, the truth is, it hasn’t always been that way. Apprehension is natural, especially when once you cut a picture a certain way, that image is irrevocably changed. Deciding to cover one image with another or simply making any decisions exposes the real fear behind collaging: that what you decide, what you end up creating, won’t be good enough.
Commitment issues are real, and while collaging, I sometimes find myself mourning the pages I cut to smithereens — mourning the possibility I chose over its alternative and questioning if I had made the right decision. Maybe this is overthinking (it definitely is). Still, it’s also a study in trusting yourself, and I’ve found as I collage more, and listen to my instincts, that my voice of criticism and doubt grows quieter as the creativity of the art takes over.
The biggest thing I realized in collaging is that you’re creating something just as if not more impactful for yourself, because it came from you. The end result is a product of your individual choices, your creative voice; of what images captivated you, and what variations of shape, layering, and decision-making eventually won out. You can then display these on your walls, as I’ve done in my dorm and childhood house. You can collage with huge pieces too, placing them this way or that, as I’ve also done. And the beauty is, you made the choices. You created something amazing.
In this conversation, I introduce the theory of intuition.
Intuition is trusting your gut, following that inner compass we all have, and not second-guessing every decision for fear of failure or anything else. Practicing and thinking about intuition sounds counter-intuitive, as it seems like it should be something you just get, but the reality is, what seems rational doesn’t always come easily. Without getting on a soap box, I will acknowledge that our world is a hyper-critical one, which heavily revolves around expectations and what happens when you do or don’t meet them. This forces anyone inside of that world (i.e. all of us) to grapple with what feels right and what is deemed right, and where the two ideas may come together or deviate. To make a large generalization, intuitive thinking becomes something you may have to practice intentionally before it becomes something you automatically do because of this societal characteristic.
It can be difficult to trust yourself — to believe that you’re making the right choice and creating something you’ll be proud of, representing whatever you want it to represent or evoke. I’ve found I can’t think too hard about it, whether I’m discussing art or collaging or anything else, otherwise I’ll inevitably end up overthinking, which for me leads to debilitation and then a creative block.
In the case of collaging, this is my routine. Take it or leave it, but know it’s helped me build trust in myself and rely less heavily on outside opinions when it comes to creativity.
Starting the collaging process, I flip through whatever magazines I have on hand, taking out any pages that “call my name” (it sounds weird, but trust me) and then putting them in a pile. Here’s the important bit: I don’t question why a page or an image fascinates me until I’m ready to start cutting and gluing. That’s key because if I don’t have a starting pile of possibilities, then I’m automatically stuck.
Once I have this pile, I’ll think of what theme the collage may gravitate towards. Am I thinking pop culture focused? Am I leaning towards a manifestation board? Maybe just an aesthetically pleasing collection of colors and patterns? Who knows, but in the moment, I figure it out. I’ll then go through the pile to decide what to patch together, and then it’s a matter of trial-and-error.
I’ll cut a picture out, use it as a base, then layer on top of it. Sometimes, I’ll realize I got the layering mismatched and will change it. Or, sometimes I realize what I mistakenly did actually added to the piece’s overall story. You have to cut and make mistakes and not think too hard during this process, because that’s the creativity in action. What matters is that I trust myself, and even though I know there’s no way to “win” in art, there is a way to be more genuine and true to yourself. That truth and trust, in my experience, comes from this theory of intuition. So the next time you have some magazines lying around, or you’re at the bookstore and see some with pictures that seem to draw you in, please, listen to that voice. Trust yourself, trust you can create something beautiful, because the truth is, you can, it just takes that first leap of faith. There is no winning and there’s no losing, so why not play?