Large eyeSnowScape Collage

Last night I made the first of the large-scale eyeSnowScape collages, blending photo pieces with construction paper. In a continued effort to not buy any new art supplies that I don’t need to keep going, like film or glue, I’m using things I have like the construction paper I bought many years ago. It feels good to be putting this stuff to use. I’m not sure the art supplies here would ever get down to zero, especially since it’s nice to have something on hand for when inspiration strikes, but it feels nice to be engaging more appreciatively with my hoard of paper. In digging out the construction paper I also reacquainted myself with a few sheets of fancy paper I’d forgotten about too, so now that those are top of mind maybe I can make something with them as well.

Anyway, here’s the first big paper piece!

First eyeSnowScape collages

I finished up the weaving projects today and took a crack at the first eyeSnowScape collages. One piece, a very melty one which always strikes me as very melancholy gave me a bit of a pang but otherwise I didn’t feel sad about taking scissors to the prints… especially not when I saw the pieces beginning to emerge. I’m so happy with them! It’s really fun working on them and I think they’re quite striking. It also feels like I’m in the thick of collaborating with my dad on an art project again, which was my hope. So—all in all a pretty great art day around here.

Pain in the age of mechanical reproduction

I have many eyeSnowScape prints in my house. Some are very special to me—the ones from our first Popsicle! show and the ones from Woolf’s Voices—those that were in my dad’s presence.

For Popsicle! II, held in memory of my dad, I made the selections and printed the images. The selection wasn’t arbitrary. I chose the pieces my dad had in a binder of his favourite works, and which he’d share with any art lover he met. I didn’t show his copies—I printed new copies from the digital files. I added a special touch—a black border with my dad’s art signature at the bottom which is something he’d asked for. I have the digital files of these as well.

Prepping for our next Popsicle! show I wanted to do something new and special—a way of collaborating together despite us not being physically together, so I’ve begun using the prints from Popsicle! II in weaving pieces… here’s a little sneak peek:

This first piece uses a very special eyeSnowScape piece—one of my dad’s absolute favourites. I cut it up and made two new pieces out of it very happily.

I then started to take the others out of their frames and had a deep pang. Like I was planning to destroy my dad’s art. Like I was mistreating it. Of course I can’t be sure if he’d think what I’m doing is cool or not—I hope he would. But I’m definitely doing it with love—as a way for us to make something together.

Why the pain? While these particular prints are special in the sense that they are of my dad’s art and I made them thinking of him, that’s no different than what I plan to do with them now. And I can so easily make a new one if I want. The photos are backed up over and over, and I have a photo printer at home. So I could have a new copy in about a minute if I wanted. So why is the thought of transforming these copies causing me this strange wave of guilt?

I don’t really have a point with this post… probably because I don’t fully understand why I’m having this feeling. Grief is weird, it comes in fits and starts, and it doesn’t make sense. I can remake these prints—there’s no rational reason to feel weird or bad about it. Maybe it’s that art is imbued with meaning, and sometimes it doesn’t matter whether or not it’s an original or a print or a copy. It can still have an aura.

Magyarázni Reading

A little reading from Magyarázni to pass the time.