I spent a few days in studio this week prepping canvas with gesso and modeling paste and have been too low energied to put them to paint. Rushes of ideas go through my mind while I sit and stare at the stacks of white. John Irving referred to this as the "undertow" in one of his novels. Others call it the "black dog", the "big boots", "stormy weather". Today I name it "the wasteland on steroids." It takes a toll. The body wants to melt into the floor or crouch in a corner. Conversation becomes monosyllabic, work nonexistent.
Yesterday I'd had enough and decided to sew up some collage even if I had to crawl to the sewing machine to do it! (Yes it feels that dramatically disabling!)
I got together : a stack of 8 by 6 card stock,
a box of leftover painted paper and magazine scraps,
& some sheets of vellum that I had printed some portraits on, (the ink ran & I liked the affect).
After my third collage, I found my groove and the gloom finally lifted. Depression is a powerful force. I've lived with it a very long time and tried lots of therapies; art therapy has worked at times. Sometimes not. Yesterday it blessed me. Like the difference between night and day, like amazing grace that lifted me from a wretched place.
I made a bunch of collages, 18! I'm posting my favorites.
The back of one of the collages. Love the stitches.
