|"The Memory of Coffin Spelled Backward," paper collage |
with décollage, Laura Tringali Holmes 2013
Yes, there is the anxious-looking child, supporting her chin with her hand, as swaths of thought patterns rendered in language symbols cut through her head. Not to mention the maps of places unvisited serving as background.
Like I said, burning desert sands.
And then there is that guy. Let's call him the father figure. What is he lifting? Could it be a child-sized coffin? Is the girl's integrity as a human being and her value inside? Is that why she looks so anxious? Is the guy about to come at her with a big fat belt? Is that why all that language/thought stuff is afloat?
Like I said, barefoot and on your knees.
|Detail, "The Memory of Coffin Spelled Backward." And, no,|
it's not a coffin, just a tabletop being muscled onto its legs, from
a volume in the voluminous 1960s Practical Handyman encyclopedia.
Why...it would seem she's locked onto The Thing With Feathers! Not her father, or whatever it is he happens to be holding.
And, for an even more potent portent, we have what I am, for the purposes of this blog entry, calling a "flourishing target." Do you know about my Target Practice Project? No? I won't trouble you with a nosebleed about the Project right now, but I do encourage you to learn about it and to enjoy the work of some 120 artists, who have generated over 250 images based on a single 1960s Sears Roebuck archery target, at these links:
I have used a fragment of that same target here, but in this case, drilling down right here and right now, we can see that the plain paper target has taken on, through the magic of collage and the ink that lives on paper, evidence of fecundity. Wow. The plot gets thickerer and thickerer.
|Detail, "The Memory of Coffin Spelled Backward." This shows the target, to which|
I have added, through ink transfer from an old magazine page, tree trunks and
flourishing foliage. Hope is the thing with feathers, but hope is in nature, too.
So let's look at the collage again, shall we? And let's cast a weather eye toward the hope that is embedded, albeit subtly, because we survivors of narcissistic parents have certainly had plenty of opportunity to hone our survival chops (albeit subtly).
The point of all this being that once we can look at our memories, and realize that they ARE memories and not predictors of our futures...well...
...we are then on our way, aren't we?
Thank you, again, for listening. I am thankful, on this Thanksgiving weekend, that you are out there listening.