Love Collage
Without much explanation in words, I paste for your Valentine viewing, two collages I created two weeks ago with one of my son's. We talked and cut and snipped and glued into the wee morning hours. I have to say there is something I really love about spinning records, drinking tea and cutting and rearranging the waking dream onto and into cards!
And, what do you think of the weighty hydrangea? They're practically as light as air, but at this size...
Several times I took this one apart, but the images wanted to be together and so I obeyed.
Some make all the same sized cards and create for themselves their own deck of tarot cards.
Who is the female in black and white? I know for sure, but I am no good at face-name combos. (I am kicking myself already....)
And do you know which sainted lady is suffering with the stigmata? Again: I could run down a whole list, and I keep getting Agnes or Theresa, but that would be Neumann.... (not a nun).
My dad was disappointed that I had not had the (climbing) hortensia cut down. He found it messed up the shed wall. It blooms a pure white each May. I simply couldn't. It makes for a cloud of joy and protective blanket in one. I wouldn't be a Gemini if I didn't also dislike hortensias; old people solutions to difficult bits of garden or dried to make for permanent bouquets on the dining table.
In any case, all that is featured in these cards you lay out for us has featured for me this week. Incl the (Russian?) blue burka (What colour is Russian blue, anyway? - the title of the book I am reading); we were discussing the issue with allowing or prohibiting the covering of one's face, while motorcyclists are still asked to remove their helmet when entering a petrol station to pay (a vizor up is not sufficient for most petrol station owners; but for motorcyclists wearing glasses it is a great hassle to accommodate a social neurosis).
We were thinking of tigers, too. 1998, 1962, 1938.... It runs in the family for my son.
We changed O's (deprecating) opinion on Picasso thanks to an actor/painter's passionate exploration of the complex and alternately tender and brutal genius's life. There is little difference between the whores and the angelic.
I don't know if I've had walls covered in that blue-green-purple flower paper or just a dress, but it's from somewhere I think I may need to go back to, before I can walk up to the next ledge in the mountains.