Not too many folks get terribly excited about leftovers, although I confess that I enjoy them. Sometimes, they even seem to taste better the second time around.
And, even better than the kitchen leftovers, are the art leftovers...
- the paint that I don't want to waste, so it gets brayered onto a blank journal page
- scraps of papers
- words cut out of poetry books and magazines
- bits of washi tape
- photos I've printed, just waiting for a home
Pages just evolve over time, adding bits and pieces of this and that, mostly whatever happens to be on my studio table because I haven't cleaned it up yet.
I'd love to tell you that my studio gets cleaned each day when I finish, but I'd be lying. And, honestly? The jumble of supplies never fails to inspire. Media and scraps that have no business being together look totally cool.
I love getting my photos off the camera; they might end up on note cards, tacked onto my walls, or on an art page.
I love the play of it all, moving this and that around until my eyes light up.
It's not a steady process; this background languished for a day or two, until it told me what it needed.
A quote about resting in the silence between word caught my attention the other day; it's been floating around in my head ever since.
So, I grabbed a poetry book bought at a huge sale, and begin to search for similar words. And then...gasp!...I cut them out.
Billy Collins, I apologize for this transgression and all future transgressions, because I'll be snipping words again. You can bet on it. My only excuse is that poets use the best words.
I love the words I found; they say so much, as words can.
But, sometimes, you need to listen very closely to what's not being said...the spaces and silences between the words.
If you can manage to still yourself enough to do so, you learn a lot of good stuff. Important stuff.
At least, I do.