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While reading Laila Lalami’s book 'The Dream Hotel’, I was struck by the current state of the world. Videos of citizens being arrested for peaceful protest, people being challenged for living in their country based on their skin colour or surname, and the encouragement from companies on us to use AI frequently. The book deals with the negative consequences of us relying on technology, algorithms and artificial intelligence to monitor, assess and police our behaviour. The story is Kafkaesque in its frustrating portrayal of bureaucracy, where clerical mistakes cause delays and no one is held accountable. Since starting the book, I have unplugged my Alexa. Prior to this I stopped using period tracking apps. The fear of sudden changes to policy and law that deny our freedom is palpable. We are constantly surveilled and our data is always being captured. My work represents being imprisoned, watched, documented and caged. While I feel I cannot fight this, I know I can make collages and connect to others who feel a similar way. This genuine terror has made me appreciate what I have, what resources I can access and the closeness of my community.

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The creation of this piece occurred during the August Collage Cult meeting after reading an essay by Julia Drost on the literary genre of biography within Max Ernst’s collages.

Thinking about the biographical within art, I made a piece with the intention of referencing me and my life. What images could I find that represent me? I felt very fortunate in stumbling upon specific images within my collection, such as an artist's studio with pots of paint lined up, paintbrushes sticking out of mugs, as well as cartoon images of a cat, a bed, a cup of tea. The notebook with pencil in hand poised to write & the documents in the top right represent Collage Cult and my desire to read, listen, learn and write about collage. At one point I was looking for a clock-face or a watch-face. Once I found it, I placed it within the collage. However, it didn't feel right to include, and I'm not exactly sure why. I think even though I cannot deny the passing of time, I don’t want to have it represent me in a biographical piece. There is a hint of the city within this piece. While I am personally drawn to florals, nature and the "cottage-core" aesthetic, I know I cannot live without the life and drama of the city. London and Manchester are represented by a small patch of skyscraper office building, the brightness of the LED lights.

On another level, I chose to incorporate the sense of shelter I experienced growing up in a middle-class household. This is the white iron fence. It could be seen as a pretty or fancy gate covering the artist underneath, but it is intended to represent security and maybe even naivety. While the remaining elements cycle through things I like - books, knick-knacks, records, nature, sweet treats - the window showing only white (with no distinct views) is a mystery to me. I don't remember choosing it for a particular reason, like I did with the rest of the elements. Maybe it symbolises potential, because there could be anything on the other side? I'm happy with the way the colours come together and I enjoyed the process of piecing sections to one another to build up the piece.

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My first Padlet post of 2025, and the first one in a while. It’s not that I haven’t been constantly thinking about art, art theory, my practice and the Cult! I’ve just been so busy doing it all that I haven’t had time to sit and write. Well, I have written but it’s been with Alice! It’s an essay on conjure. That’s our theme for our first ever exhibition. We installed it yesterday with Bing-Chi and it looks brilliant. The work just works with the space. For my pieces, I wanted to explore my body, as inspired by Penny Slinger who uses her body in her practice. I wonder if I think of myself as a surrealist because I do play with the absurd, having recently created a mantis-headed figure with the ribcage xray of a human, from medical text books kindly gifted by a friend (for collage purposes, of course), with sausages in the lungs, and bird feet. I think Alice had a hand (always with the hands) in encouraging my investigation of the hybrid more. But my work can also be quite conventional as a collage, maybe even simple. This doesn’t seem like something a true surrealist would consider or worry about. Maybe this entry should have been a “Dear Dalí” …

My latest conjure work is quite abstract in that it is weird, but I’m not sure how happy I am with it. I enjoyed the performance, the process of making, but the results feel like maybe the start of something, rather than the final thing. I will try to keep my mind open and see what this period teaches me.

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Image: Bing-Chi Wu, Two pages from my experimental zine Unfinished Song, 21x14.8 cm (each page), Collage, 2024

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Notes About Time / September & October & November 2024

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Notes About Time / September & October & November 2024

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In September, we read The Fluidity of 'Narrative Time' in Photography, Temporality, and Modernity: Time Warped (Belden-Adams, 2019). In October and November, we appreciated the works of John Bingley Garland and Gavin Jantjes, respectively.

The 'blood collages' (ca. 1850–60) of Garland showed a series of sophisticated but balanced compositions made of cut scriptures, prints of natures and histories or religions, and decorated with blood-like red ink. Jantjes made A South African Colouring Book (1974-75), a series of pieces showing life under apartheid; most of the photos were monochrome or interpreted with effects of negative and most pieces featured a row of drawn colourful squares that looked like a colour checker. In the chapter about narrative time, what impressed me was the person photographed as the subject in front of the camera has several potential discussions at the same time, such as who I think I am, who I want others to think I am, and who the photographer thinks I am.

Although these works had considerable visual differences, they presented different ways to demonstrate time. The dripping appearance of the blood-like red ink brought a sense of time into the piece made of epic-like images; the physical shape of the dripping blood seemed to be the coagulated time. The documentary-like photo processed by Jantjes enclosed the time that the artist dealt with the photo; other treatments to the photo and response to the issue through collage may also represent a reflective time of the artist. Lastly, when being photographed, different considerations from a subject seem to blend at various times of the subject from those different considerations.

I have been considering how to deal with and manifest time since I still believe the artistic work of being able to present time or discuss time would be profound and raise the viewer's deeper reflection.

Belden-Adams, K. (2019) Photography, Temporality, and Modernity: Time Warped. London: Routledge.

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Bing-Chi Wu_Two pages from my experimental zine Unfinished Song, 21x14.8 cm (each page), Collage, 2024 (2)

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Image: Bing-Chi Wu, Two pages from my experimental zine Unfinished Song, 21x14.8 cm (each page), Collage, 2024

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So far this year, we have seen a documentary of Sean Hillen and a conversation with Kike Congrains. They are collage artists who discuss and respond to socio-cultural history and issues of their countries through their practice; at the same time, they have developed and are continuously developing their exhibition and commercial routes to display and disseminate their distinctive collages and support their daily lives.

Since I was in college, we have been considering and discussing how artists make a living on professional support. We know channels include the sale via institutes, galleries, museums, and online platforms; private and public commissions of specific artistic outcomes such as paintings and public sculptures; teaching in institutes and workshops; selling the products with printed images of artworks; earning from image licensing or collaboration with other brands; and so on.

Sometimes, when I stumble upon some of the above methods, I come up with questions and reflections. Are the styles or artistic techniques of my creative practice or artworks not outstanding enough, so they lack distinguishability and worth? In a business and human nature sense, does supply exceed demand, or does those artworks unsold not hit collector/customer demands? These questions would develop more sub-questions or details.

Nevertheless, I am sure my practice and artworks are authentic and worthy to myself; otherwise, I would not share them with the public. Creating art for me is a vocation and a long-term journey, so it is just like something that urges me to keep exploring and developing despite some frustrations that happened on the way. Learning from successful people, seniors, and peers broadens my eyes and inspires me to adjust a few strategies in the art industry.

Rethinking self-positioning and intentions at the appropriate time, adjusting directions or strategies, and then so seem to be a helpful process to proceed with a self and the vocation. The reality in society is more complicated than a litigant’s mind and thinking, and vocation and life may not often bring happiness; nevertheless, at the very least, I am blessed to be able to continue practicing this profession no matter how much time I have.

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Bing-Chi Wu_Two pages from my experimental zine Unfinished Song, 21x14.8 cm (each page), Collage, 2024

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Tomorrow is Saturday, Directed by Gillian Marsh, 2020

The Cult watched the documentary ‘Tomorrow is Saturday’ on Netflix about Irish collage artist Seán Hillen.

I feel the above poem expresses how I struggled with my own mental health while watching the documentary. The anxiety of being a collage artist. I do not work full-time as an artist and I have invested a lot of time and money into my art practice – attempting to appeal to wide audiences at markets. I have struggled to find a commercial space for myself, and I did not like being reminded of the pain of putting oneself out there to be rejected, or to make enough money to break even. It hurts the creative part of myself to try to sell my work, to spend time talking about my practice to encourage people to buy it, rather than making it. More recently, I have learnt to enjoy making what I like, and if others like it then that is wonderful. However, I am privileged in that I have another form of income and do not need to really on my art productivity to pay for my livelihood. I am not a machine or factory that can churn out collages that appeal to the masses. The documentary shows a chaotic studio space of overwhelm - partly fascinating for the sheet amount of incredible things that have been collected - partly nightmarish where nothing is organised. It made me reflect on my studio space and how I can manage the draining feeling of sorting through my fragments to find those I should keep vs throw away. I thought about the artist as collector, which we have discussed in previous Cult meetings.

As the film continues, it develops an optimistic tone. Here are the quotes that made me feel calmer:

“If you’re making art, you want to feel the possibility and the hunger and the excitement not a cesspit of kind of guilt and struggle and pain and failure.”

“With this new networking attitude, I learned that I need to engage with the world, where it is, meet people where they are. You know - you have to be in the world a little bit”.

There was a warmth to the film that reassured me. The importance of community and remembering we can lean on our friends to help us in difficult times was a lovely way to positively portray hardship. We have to remember we are not alone.

Recently I found out I was unsuccessful in getting into another exhibition. However, I found that dealing with the rejection has been easier this time due to the enjoyment and satisfaction I get from Collage Cult.

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For May's Collage Cult meeting we watched the documentary "Tomorrow is Saturday" about the collage artist Sean Hillen. Hillen at one point says, "Photographs weren't complex enough... I wanted to contain my feelings in them..." - I thought this was really powerful - the idea that cutting and pasting was a form of feeling.

I have been struggling for a few years now, with the ebb and flow - although mainly stasis - states of my practice. I wonder sometimes why I don't make work often, why I don't feel inspired to create, why my work (in my opinion) lacks a certain type of depth I perhaps feel it should have.

Creating is so connected to our state of being - you have to be in the moment to create, to be open to both your conscious and subconscious mind and make choices about composition, and make meaning through the process.

I both envied and understood the sheer overwhelm that Hillen felt in his studio amongst all the stuff he had collected - brought into his home, his cocoon. I realise that my own hoarding is entrenched in my anxieties, and my desperation to feel at peace. As he is watching his studio being emptied in an attempt to find space, he reflects that it feels like his life is flashing before him, coming out of plastic boxes. I sit here now, in my conservatory studio, completely surrounded by plastic boxes of paper. I feel as though, at some point, I might be lost amongst all the things I have dragged along with me through my life. I am part of a collage I have made.

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Catherine Jack, I did this to myself, 2024, Collage in Sketchbook

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This month we read the conclusion to the book Collage in Twentieth-Century Art, Literature and Culture by R. Cran. In her book, Cran discusses the work of visual artists, authors and musicians and their creative outputs relationship to collage. Cran argues that these particular artists are working in collage. This chapter explores the bizarre poems of John Ashbury, as well as the paper collages he created later in life, exhibiting in 2008. Cran states that Ashbury appeared to be more interested in writing poetry than the poem itself (Cran, 2014, p.215). This made me think of practice as the artwork – the idea that the process of making a collage can be a huge part of the final piece, if not even the piece itself. A lot of collage artists are filming themselves while they make their work, and now the viewer can witness the cutting out, laying out and sticking down. It ties in to how there are many possibilities for the collage, as well as that question “how do you know it is finished?”. Reading John Ashbury’s poetry for the first time was a wild ride. I recognise the words, but their order is perplexing. I initially noted “word salad” in the margins. Cran says (Cran, 2014, p.221) that in his poems and in his visual collages, Ashbury seems “to be attempting to combine together… fleeting intersections [that] create constellations of imagery which can, but are not necessarily required to, present anything beyond themselves”. We can picture the places described and these objects appear in our minds, but they do so in random flashes. We desperately want to solve the puzzle and make sense of it. I enjoy saying that my work is ‘open to the interpretation of the viewer’, but I think this is because I find that the pieces are not about anything in particular. Sometimes they evoke a feeling, but often I prefer to make a reading after I have made them. I then decide that my interpretation is the correct one and I struggle to accept alternative readings. Cran says that collage gave the viewer an interactive and subjective role to play. She states that that author is allowed “to abdicate his or her role as absolute arbiter of meaning” (Cran, 2014, p.223) – which is the opposite to how I feel about my personal creations, currently. In a previous Collage Cult session, we looked at John Stezaker’s work in Michael Bracewell’s essay and discussed the viewer as voyeur, who is complicit in what they are looking at. If the viewer has a role to play when consuming collage, which could include translator and interpreter, then they are no longer passive. I like the idea that collage, whether it be visual art, a song, or a poem, is more complicated to view and requires an active role for the viewer. It makes me feel that to appreciate the work of collage, the viewer must put in some effort and earn something.

Mark Napier - New media artist

Created interactive public art projects that used the internet as an exhibition space and a conceptual framework.

As Cran’s book is about looking for collage in other areas, what would she think of the internet and Napier’s work? Napier understands the code and internal workings of a website and how to manipulate this to create his work. The artist knows their material intrinsically.

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Image: Bing-Chi Wu, Memory Serves, Dimensions Variable, Collage, 2024

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Some Personal Tips for Unpacking Practice / March & April 2024

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Some Personal Tips for Unpacking Practice / March & April 2024

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During the two months, we viewed the articles of Collage in Twentieth-Century Art, Literature, and Culture (Cran, 2014). In addition to considerably agreeing with the opinion that collage has been expanding from cutting and pasting to the relationship between emotions and intelligence in diverse disciplines, I also gained a lot of inspiration from the introduction. At that time, I was also thinking about how to approach writing to discuss my practice. After viewing the introduction of this book about various artists’ works, some tendencies, and established ideas, I formulated some questions for myself. Some of those questions are:

- What constitutes my collages?

- What do I use?

- How do I process the image? What is the purpose of this processing method?

- What is the role of images/objects/things decomposing or not? What does it mean to deform or not deform? What is their relationship with space?

- The role or non-use of space in my work? What and how does spatial structure work in my work?

- What is my strategy for organising images?

- What differences and absences are present in the work?

- What is the intrinsic necessity of my work?

- What was sacrificed? What was exploring?

- What does this action symbolise?

After answering these, analysing, and reflecting, I understand my work and creative actions more in-depth.

‎Cran, R. (2014) Collage in Twentieth-Century Art, Literature and Culture: Joseph Cornell, William Burroughs, Frank O'Hara, and Bob Dylan. London; New York: Routledge.

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Image: Bing-Chi Wu, Hollow Hello!, Dimensions Variable, Collage, 2024

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The Soul Is Important, Correct? / February 2024

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The Soul Is Important, Correct? / February 2024

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After reading the focused chapter of this month, I am impressed with the coherent arrangement of the article and the selection of artists/artworks. They not only lead readers through the collage techniques of various artistic trends but also show the societal changes in different eras. Briefly Speaking, the flow of the article shows the evolution of art with the times. From attempts at aesthetic breakthroughs to the context of industrialisation, war, the domination of capital, the influence of technology (both positive and negative), and so on. For me, this is a thought-provoking article.

In this chapter, the author continues to build on the discourse from the distant era to the contemporary. In the late part of the article, the work of a Taiwanese artist, Chieh-Jen Chen, makes me fully aware of the need to face the crisis of our time. (I should admit that sometimes reading articles is like processing information and not connected to time-space or even the physical sense.) Chen's work that the author mentions is a digital colour image that reflects the disintegration and reconstruction of the country, showing a metaphor for social roles in an era of rapid change. His works often depict bodies in extreme or threatening situations. (Taylor, 2006) Although this work was created 20 years ago, similar negativity still seems to be happening differently. Do we be aware of and even respond to these negative states, or do we go with the flow numbly?

This work reminds me of another Chen's video work, A Field of Non-Field. The scene in the video work that I still remember is a group of women in a gloomy funeral procession chanting a sentence in Hakka for nearly ten minutes; the meaning of the sentence is what should I do if my name is gone? I also remember the scene of silent labourers carrying a model of a huge apartment/prison, and the funerary objects are old computers and models of human organs. The work provokes the viewer to ponder how people locate themselves under techno-capitalism.

In recent years, more and more people have been using artificial intelligence; nevertheless, we seem to need more discussion and attention to consider how to use this technology within ethics and to prevent this technology from being misused. As an artist and a member of society, I am concerned about how artificial intelligence will work within capitalism in the future and whether the consciousness and soul of human beings (not just artists) will meet the challenge due to the Graphics Processing Unit.

Taylor, B (2006) Collage: The Making of Modern Art. London: Thames & Hudson Ltd.

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Bing-Chi Wu, Hollow Hello!, Dimensions Variable, Collage, 2024

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Image: Bing-Chi Wu, Go Go, Dimensions Variable, Collage, 2024

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Whiteboard as the Origin and Collection of Experience / January 2024

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Whiteboard as the Origin and Collection of Experience / January 2024

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In January, we viewed the works of John Stezaker and Eva Stenram, starting from the concept of Tabula rasa. Tabula rasa, a philosophical and cognitive concept, indicates that a person doesn’t have mental intelligence from birth; all knowledge gradually arises from our perception and experience. Tabula rasa is like a screen, and ‘upon the white screen there is always the promise, fulfilled, that anything might happen’ (Bracewell, 2010, p.11). The work of John Stezaker seems to build on this concept—the black or white sheets he used for placing pictorial elements are just like a platform; those pictorial elements narrate some stories reflecting the cases of some people in relationships. He interrupts the flow of the original monochrome imagery and then collages them to enlarge specific qualities and spaces of relationships. The illusion of the space he creates brings the tension between ‘surrealist strangeness’ and ‘compositional severity’ (Bracewell, 2010, p.10). In a series of works by Eva Stenram, New Meridians, she adds some marks such as various lines and geometric figures to reveal the potential change of routes on ethnically and nationally geography affected by wars and a broad range of and several types of social crises nowadays. The white quadrilateral used in her works seems to imply the known, unknown, and upcoming situations/events happening in the locations.

Stezaker, J and Bracewell, M (2010) Tabula Rasa. London: Ridinghouse.

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In our cult meeting we spoke about the abstraction in Stezaker's works - the ones in which Stezaker has cut out a white polygon from the film still. This act is an abstraction, but some of the members (including myself) spoke about how these white squares reminded us of the monoliths in science fiction movies like 2001: A Space Odyssey. We were not alone in this recognition, as the author of our chosen text notes, '…Stezaker’s intervention creates an animating pictorial effect - touched with science-fictional eeriness…The stuff of the image is shown to be malleable.' (Bracewell, 2022). I was struck at how removing a part of the image created a new reading of the piece, and how this was done not by removing elements of the photograph, but by removing a shape. Is this sense of a monolith, screen or void created because it is a white box and it isn't revealing another image or backing paper beneath or another image (like some of Stezaker's works)?

In response to our conversations, I wanted to try to replicate this by trying to create an image in the style of Stezaker (above). I used digital software to create the image which allowed me to reflect further on the idea of abstraction and analogue cutting methods, because to create my image, instead of abstracting the white box, I added a layer. My sense of creating an abstraction was removed by not engaging with the photograph and material itself. Stezaker's work is solid, in that he uses film stills which are no longer available. The act of cutting through the image is in part what makes Stezaker's artworks - work. By using digital imagery and material, the sense of loss and the literal cut in the image is ironically not present - (ignoring the fact that I am not John Stezaker and the image above is a crude attempt) does this mean that the image does not work? Does there have to be a literal loss in a collage for the image to fully embody an abstraction? We were looking at Stezaker's images online (or printed in a catalogue), so the photographic material was not in front of us - we only knew that the white square was cut and removed from the work through the description from the author (and knowing Stezaker's work). It has made me reflect more broadly about whether a collage artist is abstracting, adding or removing, during the cutting and pasting process. Is collage material always in flux?

Bracewell, M (2022) The Space Between: Selected Writings on Art, Riding House: UK

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Image: Bing-Chi Wu, That Might Be the Case When Doing Research, Collage, 27x19.4cm, 2023

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Homogeneous Montage ← Heterogeneous Montage ← *Visual Collage / November 2023

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Homogeneous Montage ← Heterogeneous Montage ← *Visual Collage / November 2023

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Both homogeneous and heterogeneous montages are experimental forms of cross-media meaning-making. They involve visually artistic techniques of cutting and pasting elements such as materials, photographs, and text. Nevertheless, in contrast to homogeneous photomontage, heterogeneous montage does not aim to make a clear verbal-like statement about reality, or it does not have a clear meaning. Heterogeneous montage is similar to visual collage, whereas montage probably originated from visual collage. Visual collage is a semiotic tool capable of representing ideologies and conveying ideas through images. Without it in the past, the ideological and political montage it subsequently developed would not exist. (Dragu, 2020)

Dragu, M. (2020) Form and Meaning in Avant-Garde Collage and Montage. London: Routledge.

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Image: Bing-Chi Wu, A Hard-Working Bird, Collage, 14.8x12cm, 2023

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According to Mies van der Rohe: Montage/Collage (Eiermann et al., 2017), Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (1886-1969) used two-dimensional images to represent the realistic space of nature. He used linear perspective to arrange two-dimensional images in parallel order, endowing his works with a sense of spatial layers. This spatial concept of plane layering reflects his mastery of spatial theory and contains the tension between space and image, depth and flatness.

Some potential ideas come to my mind:

1.  Could analyse how the colour of elements used in the works of Mies van der Rohe affects the sense of space.

2.  Without knowledge of spatial theory, how do I establish a sense of space in my practice in a personalized way?

3.  If the outcome of point 2 looks good, I could consider what creates the sense of space in that work.

Eiermann et al. (2017) Mies van der Rohe: Montage/Collage. London: Koenig Books.

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Our Hands Found Each Other in the Dark, 2023

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I have not been very well lately and it has taken its toll on my drive to create art. I miss it so much. When I find the strength to make again, none of the materials are working together, none of the colours are right. This is similar to my Stick/Stuck post about being unconvinced by my own placing of the fragments and feeling less than confident about gluing them down.

Despite this, I would like to write down some key points that stood out to me from Magda Dragu's essay "Transparent Replacements: Visual collage and heterogeneous photomontage" from September's Collage Cult session. This essay made me curious about my own practice and whether it is heterogeneous or homogenous, alongside the use of the photograph, which reflects reality - or does it?

Currie said, "a photograph can be about things other than the things it is of" (P101). I agree and I feel that the viewer's reading of the image can be the "correct" way of understanding it. However, I am often frustrated when people "read" my pieces incorrectly i.e. not as I intended. I am unsure why, but I think it's because in my head, the message was clear, and I have failed to communicate it if someone has an alternative understanding.

Dragu's statement that we "generate meaning by manipulating faithful copies of reality in order to create a specific artistic but persuasive comment" (P102) resonated with me. We reveal "thus the symbolic nature of the artistic photograph" (P102).

“We change a photograph’s meaning by performing certain artistic procedures on it.” (P104) - Can this include the artist simply presenting the images? I was once asked at university how many minimum changes I need to make to an image to make it a collage, to make it something new that is an artwork. I had not considered this before, so I paused – I always take make a change to the image, e.g. making it black and white in Photoshop, removing a section with a scalpel, painting over part with acrylics. What would it be like to simply present an image, unaltered? The other side to this quote that struck me is almost my own lack of confidence as an “artist” as I consider what “artistic procedures” I have performed onto my collage “Our Hands Found Each Other in the Dark”, that I made recently. What did I do these photographs? Well, I manipulated them by presenting one at an unusual angle (rotated counterclockwise). The other is cut from the rest of its context. Placing the hands so that they are directed into the lava, one can read it as if one person is causing pain to the other by holding them here. I saw a textural connection between the veil and the smoke. If the content depicts pain, then what does the title mean? My intention was to present the hands as people, they can act intuitively to search for comfort. I have always enjoyed juxtapositions, and this is something Dragu says is a quality of heterogenous photomontage.

Ultimately the author explains that “the Surrealists’ understanding and use of photomontage remains constant, subverting and toppling the reality effect the photograph inherently claims” (P120) – it therefore stands outside the tradition of heterogeneous/homogenous evolution of photomontage. Maybe after trying to place my practice within a box based on Dada VS Constructivism, politics VS no exact meaning, painterly characteristics VS cinema – I can instead see myself as a surrealist or an individual who wants to challenge what the photograph represents through mixed-media pieces.

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I was struck by our reading for September 2023 that the author suggested that collage had more in common with film than with photography, "...I contend that photomontage shares more affinities with cinema and film montage than with the evolution of photography..." (Dragu, 2020). I felt that this related to my work, but was in contrast to Catherine Jack's work and when I mentioned this, Katie agreed and that she thinks about stillness more than movement.

I find this interesting as I have always felt there was movement in my pieces, that either I am trying to represent a moment during movement, or they are a snapshot of a longer narrative or story. In essence, when I am making a collage I don't feel as if I am using photographs but they are actual bodies, material, flowers, at the edge of stepping, wrapping, blooming. Capturing the moment they are flowing from one state into another.

Dragu, M. (2020) Form and meaning in avant-garde collage and montage. Routledge: UK.

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Part of my process is laying the fragments of my collection onto blank pieces of paper or a sketchbook page. I keep noticing I am not committing to the piece as I don’t stick the pieces down. I am often happy with the composition, open to adding more to the piece if I spot something else that works, like a magazine image or a particular shade of colour. However, I am still not ready to stick the fragments down. I think that the process of choosing the images/ torn bits of paper/ cut outs and laying them out can take a lot of my energy, so when I have settled on them, the thought of picking them all back up in order to glue them back down is quite exhausting. Furthermore, there is a chance I will not be able to re-make what I had initially. There is a chance I will stick the pieces down in the “wrong” order. Something is then lost within the creation of the piece - either the original layout, which only I know existed, or the smoothness of it. That is, even when I am careful, I can get glue onto the front of the fragment, which alters it. I have also made mistakes where I have re-laid the piece down unevenly and the image is not flat against the paper. I find this quite distressing. Once stuck, it is hard to remove without damaging the piece. I think my own fear that I will mess the piece up causes me to make more mistakes. I feel frustrated that a “better” version of the piece existed at one point. I need to learn how to be okay with the results of the collage process and try to enjoy the outcomes. I want to be comfortable with the rougher results because they reveal the collage to be hand-made, potentially messy with flaws, analogue. If I want the true “smooth” collage, I should play with digital work. I aim to stick down the pieces that are currently “work in progress”. If I do not like the final creation, I can cut out the images to re-use if I desire.

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There are so many things to think about from our last meet up (which was in person -  hurray!).

1. The only way to edit a collage is to make a fundamental change - a cut, a swap out, a tear.

2. The collage will not hold itself and needs to be stuck to something - what is this thing? Is it the background, is it an element itself, is it just a tool for holding?

3. If I made a repeating wallpaper pattern, there would still be a point at which I decided there was an edge to the collage.

4. Why does Asha Zero paint collages? What is gained and / or lost within this process?

5. Is 'why' ever a helpful question to an artist?

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There is something about a blank page. It is the start of something, and therefore it feels simultaneously exciting and daunting.

In June's cult meeting, we discussed the blank page and how in workshops it can cause anxiety for participants. The backing paper of a piece of art, holding so much power over our emotions. Do we worry that whatever we put on the page won't be worthy of the space? Will we ruin the pristine book with our creativity?

In some ways I think a blank page is overwhelming for me. There are so many things that I could do that it locks me up and I can't do anything. Stunned into creative silence by the prospect of making a choice.

Collaging with found images removes some of the choice for me and therefore the burden. The blank page is no longer overwhelming but has potential to hold my ideas. It is a space for converging, merging, and amalgamation. It is no longer a starting point at the precipice of potentiality, but it is an active space, where the material and I work and play together.

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Catherine Jack
It can be hard to know what to make, I am overwhelmed by the choices I have brought upon myself - through my hoarding and collecting of magazines.

On my walks I am collecting the fallen petals of flowers that have finished their cycle of blooming. I come home with my pockets containing the now slightly crumpled remnants of nature. I choose them based on their colour, vivid ones that will press well.

My practice recently has involved the inclusion of text, I would say it must be related to our most recent session. For a while I shied away from using text because I didn't want my pieces to be too sentimental, or something like that. My pieces should be full of sentiment and poignancy, I often make them when I am feeling my most vulnerable and sad. The words provide comfort. A half finished sentence or a short phrase provides intrigue that we can complete ourselves.

Collage Cult NWUK has helped encourage me to be freer with the mixed-media side of my practice. I love combining charcoal, ink, paint and vinyl stickers. I let myself be brave by making this piece busy, a bit chaotic. Yet, still ordered. Colour and composition is important. The women fit within their own oil pastel circle. This was not planned - it just fit so well. I nearly pulled away because I still have trepidation over committing to gluing a magazine image I have had in my collection for a while to a surface. The gestures in some areas (of oil pastel, chalk) are weak, it's as if I am not comfortable making these marks. What am I afraid of? I am happy with the piece - I have succeeded.

The use of words has even led me to write poetry again, inspired by the work of Clara Bullock. I want to find a way to combine my poems, my own words, with my collages. This could be in the form of a short film (or even a reel), with spoken word. I always feel so inspired to be creative; after speaking with people, when it's sunny. I wish I wasn't so exhausted all the time!

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Last time we discussed the 'Flattening of "Collage"', an essay by Lisa Florman about an essay by Clement Greenberg, which looks at Picasso and Gris.
I think we're a bit bored of Picasso and Gris.

We asked each other

Is the paper just a material or do the words matter?

- It can add to the texture

- Contradictory words lead for a piece where something doesn’t make sense. How does that affect the work?
- Is the word a bit obvious? An image of a bluebird with the word "bluebird". What does the text really add here?

- The alternative involves tricking the audience by subverting their expectation, but now they associate the word or words with the piece, which may not be what the work is about and may not be the title.
- Is the context of the original text important?

Instagram suggested a creating see-through tape pieces where you stick the paper. I think I'd like to try it.

How does the feeling of serendipity and magic moments translate into the final collage?

scan elements separately so they can be printed and re-assembled. A photo so you know how to put it back together again. Do I even like what I first made? Find something again by looking at the photograph of it and then the elements are moved

How do you know the collage is finished?

Take a photograph of it to check - we give ourselves space from the artwork, a break, distance. We can review the composition on the phone screen or camera and see if we spot something different that we hadn't previously noticed. When I take a photo of the layout, I know it is unlikely that the piece I create when I stick the fragments down will match that photograph. Even if the photograph was taken moments before. There will always be a change and I'm comfortable knowing that. I choose not to look at the photograph of the paper pieces in their place, a composition with which I am happy. Rather, I let myself re-build the collage and sort of hope it turns out okay. I think I do trust myself to make the best decision for the overall piece during the sticking process - the part where I am committing.

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Text: Collage Culture: Readymades, Meaning, and the Age of Consumption. Chapter 4: Gleaning: Everyday Life in Collage Culture by David Banish
Artist: Wangechi Mutu

My collection has no order to it, everything is
s c a t t e r e d

It is not catalogued or categorised

How we store our bits and materials?

one box of cut outs - Alice, one box of magazines. Reduce the pile.

Taxonomy was unhelpful

Terms become too broad - like a hand holding an object, does it go into the hand box or the object box?

Raji - box full of randomness, can help inspire by looking into that, the accidental

The organisation - serves so you can reduce time looking

Classification of things? Do we lose the visual element and the sensitivity?

By disregarding a box to look in a specific box, you have narrowed down the possibility of finding something right

Alice spoke of the ideal - pre-cut images in clear plastic wallets so you can see both the back and front of them and see how each image layers up

Raji zooms in and out for the overall view, the layers - She creates ecosystems and microcosms. These are made up of “cut ups”.

Collector vs Hoarder

The collection of books as objects - permitted due to classism and elitism

I enjoy selecting items for my collection e.g. photos at flea markets, but I rarely use them and I don’t want to cut them up

I saw myself as rescuing them but they are not on display anywhere

I do not know what is in my “collection” I am surprised by what I find there

I only order sections when I am putting things away

How do I order?

·       1 x finished pieces

·       By size - larger images at the bottom of the pile, then decrease in size

·       Images that have grabbed my attention and feel significant to me, I want to use at some point

·       Painted backgrounds

·       Coloured paper but not by colour, just by the fact they are not white sheets

This reading felt odd - we noticed a lot of words relating to the sexual; libido, castrate, phallus - not something I have considered in my practice, very male, Freud. Different to Mutu's work.

When is the collection complete? Taking it seriously, not seeing yourself as a hoarder

Alice says she collects and curates

Am I painter?

If my collection was taken away, would I notice and remember what was taken?

Collection of magazines or tools or images?

Listening to a podcast, Malcolm Gladwell, Andy Warhol was mentioned. Time capsules and archivists to unravel them. Hearing a song that takes you back to a moment, the object could lose their memories? I’ll forget about it? Connection to objects, the things are important, sentimental side. Wanting to keep things safe, not wanting to cut it up.

Are the worlds made from a collection a series because they are made of this one collection? Is every piece linked because there exists a wider collection / source of origin?

The Collection VS a box of images to use intentionally in collage

My collection of stamps are not to be used for collage but to exist as their own thing. Is the box of images for collaging not the same as a box of paints for painting? Material, equipment?

Using the bits of paper in a mixed-media way

Cornell - most were not originals, not giving in to the violence of collage 185

What info about the artist becomes important for us to know? The context of things, the materials.

Obsessive

What am I holding on to? The fact that I spent time on it?

Nostalgia as a collector rather than an artist

wanting to collect the things, bring the things to use.

Letting go of objects

doing a cull?

Cornell cuts out all of the plot, odd transitions and movements, shots of her hands,

Allegorist? 180 Another name for artist

Collection - the objects become useless

While in an allegory - they function

Endowing things with sense and not-sense due to surrealism

Collages don’t make sense “what am I looking at here?”

My memories are in this, there are private things

Disguising, coding

Reading collages

Why collage is dismissed? The photographic image is recognised

But then - what does it mean? When someone thinks your piece is a painting or original? Why does it matter how it’s made if you like it?

Narcism of collecting? No sensitivity to the process - everything is ours

Why do we collect? We rescue the discarded, throw away things, cheap or discounted things, accessible

Cornell book composed of other books, the ballerina

Is putting the elements into the piece giving them order?

Wangechi Mutu

Female body, sexuality, feminine, hybridised – like Ernst

https://www.victoria-miro.com/artists/9-wangechi-mutu/

https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/exhibitions/wangechi_mutu/

Combining found materials, magazine cutouts, sculpture, and painted imagery. Fantastical landscapes that are simultaneously unnerving and alluring.

Anatomical, the cut, uncomfortable, visceral, body horror, they are doing what they intend, the topic requires attention and serious nature, horrors that occurred in real life. Making collages that have a different tone to what is intended.

Is the collagist’s history and context important to their work?

What is the piece about? Do we want to be anonymous / private?

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When we met last time, I was in the middle of packing up my house to move. The main thing I realised is that I have A LOT of stuff, and that includes collaging material. In the cult meeting, we read an essay about collecting (obsessively in some examples) and I started to think about whether I would consider my collage art practice as 'collecting'. Am I collecting the magazines or the images within them? Is it a type of hoarding - a not wanting to let go or a drawing towards me of 'things'. The difference highlighted in the article (David Banash, Collage Culture : Readymades, Meaning, and the Age of Consumption, Chapter 4: GLEANING: EVERYDAY LIFE IN COLLAGE CULTURE) between collagists and collectors is that collectors gather material to amass a body of stuff, whereas the collagist collects to repurpose, take apart and put back together, and create something new. Are my finished collages part of a collection (or just a body of work). It's something I will mull over. Although, int the moment, it made me feel better about all the stuff I had to move.

*header image made with AI

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DALL·E 2023-03-14 17.54.35 - An illustration of an artist's room absolutely full of random objects

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In this session collagecult discussed Banash's Nostalgia essay and Wangechu Mutu's work..

Is my collage practice nostalgic? I collect images as an act that fulfils my desire to research, learn and connect with the ever changing visual language of the times.

I’m a visual magpie and like to feed my eyes with all kinds of images that share narratives of botanical/anatomy text book illustrations, old paintings and an exhaustive list of other things that interest me. I also think I’m using these images as therapy, to heal something, or seek meaning from the chaos of the world we live in. I suppose I feel nostalgic when a certain amount of time has passed and then I can think back to the moment of the making. Why I made it, what I was feeling, thinking etc but I don’t have an attachment to the image as it is usually not the original and I can remake it if I wanted to but even that is approached with caution as I don’t like to make the same thing twice. I also believe in making the same thing twice, the copy would not have the same energy. Images I have torn out of books and magazines might be nostalgic for me and sometimes not. Function overrides and in some cases the image fits the purpose of the collage, so if an image serves the function I am really happy to use the cut out.

Every collage I make in its entirety and the individual cut outs that make the microcosm/ecosystem has an attachment value. And so, when a collage isn’t stuck down and finalised, I play around loosely with compositions and move things around on a blank piece of paper for clarity or whatever background I hope to use.  When I like what I see I take a photograph to document it, letting go and moving things around is sometimes difficult but most of the time I can recompose the collage with ease. If I really think the composition works then I commit to gluing it and making it permanent. I knew that I had an attachment to certain collages I have made, but I don’t know if I would call it nostalgia. When I look at them I feel the energy and ideas that gave birth to it, a deeper connection that I can’t explain, but I have a strong feeling or its as if the collage becomes alive with meaning again, comes alive and says something to me which stirs a spiritual feeling in me. My purpose in making collages again is to explore the psyche, inner and outer and create a dialogue, that is what I feel like I am aiming for in collaging. Its a personal journey and creating meaning and finding answers like a dream being deciphered.

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I went to take a photo of my work and to keep my sketch book open I used my hand. I felt like I had become part of my collage. And this intrigued me because of where we left the last cult meeting - talking about Catherine Jack's earlier works and being inside them. Where do I envisage myself in relation to my collage? Are there bits of me metaphorically within it?

I often feel collaging is naughty because I take out elements of a photograph/source and put them in a context they never knew about* as if I am doing something to others. Am I the puppet master? Am I the Dr Frankenstein?

*I originally wrote 'it takes out' - as if the collage process has agency - and I think I would argue it does - but need to do further reading on new materialism. If the collage process is the Dr am I the scalpel? Where am I in the process? Where am I in the final collage?

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The cult watched a video on collagist Monique Baumann and I was struck by their spontaneous and playful process. Members have been pasting over journals so I decided to play with collaging over old writing and notes from a previous job. It was cathartic to cover up words that I will never read again, to make the pages somewhat useful again. I used old sketch and playful works like the photograph on the right which I took and developed in college and the colourful prism drawing on the left. I added elements like stickers and cut outs. I photocopied the pages and worked on top of them again - the piece shown here is a collage of two different pages. I'm not happy with all the pages but I'm excited that I made these experiments without much thought but with a lot of energy and haste. What I mainly noticed was something that Catherine Jack pointed out - that I didn't feel like the pages were complete without photographic elements - and this excites me.

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Artist – Ellen Gallagher

Describing “inserting” the paper to the cuts she had made

“Skin” of the work – we have thought about flesh, particularly when describing cutting the paper and featuring the human element in our practices

Gallagher looks at eyes and mouths a lot; human body parts have come up when discussing the respective practices of the Cult

“Encasing” the people within pieces? I contain the collage within the paper it is glued to, the fragments rarely hang over the edge of the paper. I want to keep everything safe and secure, which is funny because I also find it hard to commit to the composition and often use a small amount of glue or bluetac to adhere the paper together, this is so I can move it if I want to.

We considered how we think of our work –

Does it have a background? KeithBloodyMary’s work is going to exist in a 3-D space. She has had to consider the back and sides of a collage, something I have never had to consider.

I said no – my work does not have a background unless the background is painted. I am still considering this question and will do as I actively make new work.

What words do you use to describe the pieces that you use to build up your collage?

The word “element” came up a lot

I use “ephemera” and refer to the found image a lot

“Part” seems too mechanical

“Piece” refers to the overall work of art, rather than the individual images/paper textures

Gallagher mentioned consent of those in the original image that is being repurposed and having its context changed. This has come up in my practice

The removal of eyes felt violent and aggressive but by removing the eyes I can change the emotions of the piece.

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Hands in the shape of scissors. Cutting hands out in the shape of scissors. Hands cutting hands out in the shape of scissors. Hands holding scissors cutting hands out in the shape of scissors. Hands glued onto hands in the shape of scissors cut out with scissors in a hand. Hands cutting hands glued onto hands. Give a hand. Lend a hand. Looks like you've got your hands full. Full of scissors. In the shape of scissors. One in the hand is worth two in the bush - when did a bush come in to this?

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DALL·E 2022-11-04 12.32.01 - hand in the shape of scissors photo realistic styke

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I have been thinking a lot about Esha's method of making collage quickly, without layering the images onto the surface to consider the composition. Her intuitive way of working is inspiring. I tried it and I struggled immensely. It was the first time I have looked at my materials in a while, so perhaps I should have warmed myself up with my familiar processes, before trying something new? Whatever it was, I couldn't seem to create what I wanted to. I wasn't happy with the result of the paint gestures, although I had enjoyed the process of painting and mark making. I clearly needed to create but the pieces were not coming together as I had hoped. This way of working is something that must come naturally to other artists, whereas I need time to sit with the fragments and play with them. I need time to trial them with different materials, textures and colours, and in different compositions. The word 'trial' made me think of a court and a judge - yes I am judging what I put together and if I don't like, I don't commit to gluing it down. I feel like with these works I panicked when I tried to stick down the elements and they do not line up. I know I can pull them up or cut them out to start again but I didn't have the energy to. Maybe it was my overall mental state, or the source material itself but I couldn't get into it. More images over on @collagecult_NWUK on Instagram.

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Collaging as a 'fuck you' rebellion

Using images / resources that are usually hidden away and making them public

Glitchy

Picking images based on colours

Not wanting to stay in the frame

The meaning changes once the piece is made

Needing a starting point / push the boundaries of one element or starting image

Challenging self

Looking at the colour / shape / texture

Not sticking entirely / not sticking at all - shadows underneath

Photocopying images, not wanting to waste images on a bad collage

It is / isn't a bad thing if the images rip

A puzzle that comes together

The collage is either brilliant or rubbish

Symmetry

Books donated / left from people / their personal collections

Hoarding

Collage as therapy

Lines on the images make reference to the originally source

Spiritual element

Work being hung upside down

Collage is a non-linear way of thinking / allows thinking in a different way

Learning through doing / by positioning elements

Fashion magazines

Tearing / taking apart

Intuitive

Hiding parts of images

Obsession with hands / removing what the hands are holding

Turning over the images and using the back

Layering to erase

Can't tell who the people are

Reworking collages if it feels unfinished

Creating own rules

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Last week we met up in person to start our discussion of collage. The whole experience was wonderful. I loved listening to each member explain their way of working and their overall practice. I have been inspired to try new methods and I noticed many similarities between us:

Keith Bloody Mary - we have both referenced Mary Shelley's Frankenstein within our work. I want to learn more about the edges of everything. The violence of cutting up the image.

Raji - Her beautiful and delicate, painstakingly cut out fragments are carefully considered to build up an image inspired by science, or botany. The layers are revealed through each section. I was in awe of each piece and felt like I could stare at them for hours, taking in new elements.

Esha - Learning about Esha's practice was fascinating for me as I always lay the fragments out first to consider the composition, whereas Esha is more free in that she sticks the pieces down immediately. If they do not work together she tears or cuts them again to re-use.

We discussed art as therapy, what materials and equipment we use (scissors vs knives) and what we listen to while make our pieces.