Coming Clean

This is how it starts. You look at something that you've been keeping close because, in that particular raindrop of time, it captured something essential. For me the "essential" usually comes swaddled in memory and memory is usually accompanied by something sensory--a sight, a sound, a smell. In the case of the collage series at the heart of this recounting, my Dirty Birds series, the ambience was tuneful, as I was in the midst of a Rufus Wainwright iPod marathon. There's more, though. There was Gloria Steinem. Her 1993 book Revolution From Within had been languishing in the to-donate-to-the-library pile. What made me pick it up and flip to the spread...that had a story about a woman named Laura...who had been on a personal journey not unlike my own? Some would argue that in life there are no coincidences. I didn't argue anything. With Rufus Wainright bouncing off my studio walls and my scissors on fire, I sliced all the Laura passages out of Steinem's book.

The Dirty Birds series was born. The pieces, all four of them, have graced the entry wall in my home since 2012.

But today they entered rehab. I invite you to witness the passage. If you have been following along with this blog, you know that, as the daughter of a narcissist, I have been engaged in a journey of recovery. It has not been pleasant but it has been vital. In recovery, the emotional as well as the physical sort, things can happen so slowly that you don't really notice any changes until you find yourself carefully un-framing a series of collages because it has suddenly become imperative to redo that which was made in a state of almost unbearable pain. So there you have it.

Let's have a look, shall we?

This is the original Dirty Birds #1. You can see Steinem's Laura text is prominent, just a little above center. 

Original (2012) Dirty Birds #1.
Paper collage with décollage on 5 x 7 canvas board with direct-to-paper
 gel ink transfers,  mica splits, charcoal, and beeswax.

This is the Dirty Birds #1 redeux. The Laura text has been covered up, and the textual focus has shifted to a larger concept--the American family. I've added a number of paper scraps as well as another mica split, some dye ink for that luscious blue, some chalk for sheen (which you can't see here), and more beeswax.

Revised (2014) Dirty Birds #1
Same as the above with the addition of more paper, mica, dye ink, and chalk
 

In the original Dirty Birds #2, the Laura strip is in relatively the same position. I remember circling the word "violin" in pencil because my parents used to make violin-sawing motions with their hands when they thought I was whining, and in 2012, even I was sick of putting up with me.

Original (2012) Dirty Birds #2
Paper collage with décollage on 5 x 7 canvas board. Antique papers, direct-to-paper
gel ink transfers, mica splits, charcoal, beeswax finish.

In the revised Dirty Birds #2, the Laura text has of course been removed and in its place remains only a fragment that more or less reads "will never again" (my motto). To obscure other text in the original version, I used sewing pattern paper, creating a matrix of broken lines with the pattern pieces. The blue ink from the first revision made it into this piece, too, and then I gave myself two stars (from a music practice book, vintage 1950s) for effort. One of the things that children of narcissists have to learn is how to be kind to themselves, and this seemed a good start to the exercise.

Revised (2014) Dirty Birds #2
Same as before, except more paper, including sewing tissue paper,
another mica split, some blue dye ink, and brown chalk
 

I haven't altered the third piece in the series. That doesn't mean I won't, just not today. I'm still kind of attached to Steinem's line about "the Confidence Clinic," and part of me wants to keep a remnant of how I used to be. We'll see how long that lasts.

Original (2012) Dirty Birds #3
Paper collage with décollage on 5 x 7 canvas board. Antique papers, direct-to-paper
 gel ink  transfers, mica splits, charcoal, beeswax finish.

Here's the last in the series, the original Dirty Birds #4. The Laura strip has migrated to the bottom in this piece.

Original (2012) Dirty Birds #4
Paper collage with décollage on 5 x 7 canvas board. Antique papers, direct-to-paper
gel ink transfers, mica splits, charcoal, beeswax finish.

And here's the revised version. New paper has been added, old text has been obscured, but mostly this revision is about the shift in contrast and in color. The blue is brighter and I sloshed some brown ink around until I got an effect that I liked. Less dark. Less stark. More like me. 

Revised (2014) Dirty Birds #4
As described above, with the addition of more paper, dye ink, and chalk.

But it didn't stop there. When I posted the link to this blog on Facebook, one of my friends pointed out that she really liked the Laura text line in the original Dirty Birds #4, the one that said "Having rescued herself, Laura is now the rescuer." It struck me that I really liked that line, too. Thanks to the magic of collage, I was able to restore it easily, simply scratching away the top paper to reveal the text underneath, which had been embedded in a protective casing of beeswax, rather like an artifact in amber.

Second revision of Dirty Birds #4
The new paper has been abraded and the Laura line about rescuing is back.
Because it was embedded in beeswax, the original text was always protected,
even as I was scratching away at the top layer.

Clearly a lot can happen in two years' time. To those who may be struggling, I say...stick with it. There is light, and there is hope, and there are definitely brighter and more vibrant blues.

As always, thanks for listening.




Collage Fragments Deconstructed

At first glance, this collage might seem like it's about as much fun to view as it is to trek a pilgrimage through desert sands. Barefoot. On one's knees.



"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.

Detail, "The Memory of Coffin Spelled Backward." The wafting misty mirror writing
 is achieved through gel transfer, in this case from paper taken from the Speedwriting
Shorthand Dictionary (1923). When you want a wafting look, there's nothing better,
in my humble opinion, than gel transfer combined with décollage. All the words
here begin with the letter C, and, yes, the word "coffin" is in there somewhere. 

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.

But wait. There's more. C'mon down, Emily Dickinson, and bring your wonderfully poetic lines: "Hope is the thing with feathers...that perches in the soul." I invite you, dear readers, to note the direction of our girl's eyes.

Why...it would seem she's locked onto The Thing With Feathers! Not her father, or whatever it is he happens to be holding.

Detail, "The Memory of Coffin Spelled Backward." Okay, so the gaze isn't
perfectly aligned, but we collage artists do what we can with what we have.
And if you've been following this blog, you know that this girl has had her hopeful
work cut out for her, so we're going to give her a round of applause anyway.

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 150 artists, who have generated over 300 images based on a single 1960s Sears Roebuck archery target, at these links:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/161991817319872/
http://thetargetpracticeproject.blogspot.com/

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.



Don't Get Jittery On Me--Part 10, or "Natures Mortes"

And this is the end of my most recent altered book. Thank you for enduring the previous nine entries. Rest assured that after this post, I will no longer trouble you on this topic.

But there is something you need to know. Something that I know.

You might not see it at first, but if you look closely enough at anything living, even while it's in that blissful state of seeming perfection, there's usually evidence of something booking quick to that line between ripe and rotten--natures mortes.

This used to bother me. In fact, for the longest time, while otherwise enjoying the seminal Dutch still life paintings in particular, I'd avert my eyes at the blemish on the otherwise perfect pear skin, the wilting petal summarily dropped to the table from the otherwise fulsome peony.

But if you live long enough, your perspective has to change. Stasis is a joke. I turned 61 a few days ago. That's sixty-one. That casts a bit of a different shade on the fine line between ripe and rotten and the appreciation thereof. 

And so, while enjoying the last of Don't Get Jittery On Me, you might get the feeling that happy endings exist within a continuum larger than black and white. That's as it should be. Life is so much more complex, and so much more beautiful, than that, and we as a society really do need to talk about that.

But back to the book:

We left our heroine here at last reading, contemplating empty lawn chairs,
contemplating repose.



We turn the page...and encounter a concealed trifold. You'll see this open in the next photo.
If you've been following the evolution of this altered book, you might remember the image on the
right. Yup, she's now officially a motif. Here she dispenses advice in the same way she did in the
initial pages. "Stay a while. Complete the thought?" she asks the reader. The bookmark, an
altered playing card, presents an alternate view.

The trifold. Transparencies abound, but what is life but seeking transparency?
The text snips are really important here. I appreciate images. I appreciate words.
Most of all, I appreciate words riding shotgun with images.
 

A detail. There are symbolic references galore here to my life.
I won't bore you with that. But I will show you the lift-up flap...
 

After lifting, this is what you see. I love the exclamation point.
That snip comes from the liner notes of some pretty old vinyl.
 

"She kept herself company." Another detail of the trifold. A seemingly innocent statement,
note that there is an image, and then the same image, reversed, atop, which creates
a grouping of four from a photo of two. I'm not implying the need for multiple
personalities, simply that sometimes resiliency--and self-reliance--carry the day.
 

The next spread features birds (no surprise there) and, gasp, an Older Woman.
A viewfinder circle points out the bird brooch at the woman's throat. There's
a pink pig with wings. There's text. There are holes punched along a bifold
(on the right) Someday I'll thread them with ribbon or whatever. For now I'm
liking the negative space. (For the bird-impaired, at right you're looking at
a red-bellied woodpecker and a rufous hummingbird.)

A detail. I must say, I love that she's wearing a bird brooch. This page is composed of a photo,
collaged  papers, acetate transparencies, and a bit of metal to hold all the layers together.
I'm never complacent about the number of  repurposed things that can come together under
 my hands.

 

Geez, this is complicated. Apologies. The bifold on the right opens, and this
is what you see. Note the shadow bird on the left side of the bifold (a hawk), and
how it transforms into a dove on the right side of the bifold. There are lots
of men birds in the center, looking in all sorts of directions. Remember, this book
has as its theme recovery from being raised in a family with a narcissistic parent.
 

Turning the page, there's our heroine. And she's dancing! I devised a way to
get her to lift off the page at certain points to increase the feeling of motion.
On the right is a catchall pocket thing, with an altered playing card thanking...
people...with a vintage text strip. One of the things I like about recycling old
words is that...sometimes...it's easier than pulling them up from the heart.
 

Which brings us back to a snapshot of the opening spread. If there's one thing I have learned,
it's the beauty of circularity. This page shows the dedication. This book is for one of my three
children, Emma. Other projects have been and are dedicated to my other two children, Pete and Eva.
My children are individuals and I revel in their individuality.

Whew. And that is it for Don't Get Jittery On Me, an altered book, a labor of love created with painstaking detail and quite a few emotional twists and turns over more months than I can count. I leave you, dear reader, with some sadness, as is to be expected with any project that is finally finished. And for those of you who have ploughed through this with not much idea of what I'm talking about, I urge you to dig around in the blog archives for the earlier posts, which will reveal the themes and, if you are so inclined, the how-tos. 

Whatever will I write about now? Stay tuned.

And thanks, as always, for listening.

If you've enjoyed this series, you might want to have a peek at The Target Practice Project, an international collage collaboration that I began in order to use up the piles of 1960s Sears archery targets I discovered while cleaning up my father's garage after his death. I blog about it here http://lauratringaliholmes.blogspot.com/2013_08_01_archive.html and here http://lauratringaliholmes.blogspot.com/2014/09/one-year-later-empty-chair.html

You can get a much better sense of the scope of the Project--and marvel at the work contributed by a huge group of talented collage artists-- by popping over to the Tumbler, at http://thetargetpracticeproject.tumblr.com

Don’t get Jittery On Me—Part 6, or “A Narcissistic Family Intervention”

In art as in life, physical boundaries are sometimes necessary when emotional and mental screens aren’t up to doing the job. Sometimes an extra layer of corporeal protection is required. Today I returned to a gate I had cut during Part 3 of this altered-book exercise in order to add just such a physical barrier to protect my book’s heroine. I found that the whole mess with the bevy of big black birds behind the gate needed to be encapsulated, restrained, before I could continue my storyline of the little girl’s epiphany and redemption. Today’s work was about making darn sure that the birds wouldn't be able to fly over the gate and peck their sharp beaks into our heroine’s eyes once she escapes. Hence the birdproofing.

 

Putting the cart before the horse as usual, this is where I ended up. Satisfactorily birdproofed.

I started by collaging the front of the gate, using paper from my treasured 1964 Official Guide to the New York World’s Fair.

This is how the gate looked when last we left it in Step 3 of this altered book process. You can read about that here: (http://lauratringaliholmes.blogspot.com/2013/03/dont-get-jittery-on-me-part-3-or-im.html)

Since I appear to be developing a child theme in this book, I was happy to find a page in the Guide featuring Walt Disney's “It’s a Small World” attraction. If you are not familiar with the Disney parks, this is an amusement that, according to Wikipedia, “features over 300 brightly costumed audio-animatronic dolls in the style of children of the world, frolicking in a spirit of international unity, and singing the attraction's title song, which has a theme of global peace.” Frolicking. Peace. Yup. Global or personal peace.  I’m down with all of that, even if I find the theme song of the ride just a tiny bit crazy-making.

 

This is the "It's A Small Word" advertisement page that I decided to collage onto the gate I had constructed in a previous stage of  my altered book.

Here’s how the paper looked collaged onto the gate.

Note that the colors of the advertisement work with the protruding tab of the garish greeting card, which you can see sticking out of the book at the right, and which is described here: (http://lauratringaliholmes.blogspot.com/2013/04/dont-get-jittery-on-me-part-4-or-big.html). It's no accident that this happened. As much as I liked the content of the ad, had it not worked with the garish tab, it would not have made the cut.

Next, I further attached a text snip of editorial comment to the page, as shown below, to push forward my book’s storyline. In the miniature sociological experiment that is a family run by a narcissistic father, it is well known that, because there is very little regard for the children, a daughter in such a situation will have lifelong chronic issues with self-worth. The little girl in my story is going to need a bit of help to effect her emancipation from the interior critical voice that was embedded by her family. This text snip establishes the baseline, and, not only that, interacts with the text that is already on the 1964  advertisement in a most serendipitious way. The advertisement text refers to the dolls in the attraction as  “…amazingly lifelike figures—the children.” What a wonderful description of what it is like to be the daughter of a narcissistic father. On the exterior, one appears amazingly lifelike indeed. On the inside, well, that’s another story.

 

Spoiler alert: The little girl will triumph in this story, have no fear.

 

The next step was to select the protective barrier, the birdproofing.   Because I collect paper, I was fortunate to have three gauges of mesh in my paper box from which to choose. As I weighed the pros and cons of each, I felt a bit like Goldilocks test-driving the Three Bears’ Chairs. It did occur to me at this point that my inner child is definitely influencing some of what’s happening in this altered book. Believe it or not, this was not apparent to me at the outset. Oh, muse of the  subconscious, I tip my hat to thy courage and perseverance.

I started with the smallest-gauge mesh. It kind of looks like window screen. “Not strong enough,” was my first reaction. Those birds could beat their wings right through it. My heroine deserves better.

This is a look at the smallest paper mesh. I am unimpressed.

 

The second paper mesh definitely felt more substantial. I consider it a bonus that I’m grooving on how the texture interacts with the blackness of the birds. This option has a fair chance of a possible maybe.  

 

The mid-gauge paper mesh might just be strong enough without being overwhelming.

 

The sheer weight of the third mesh attracts me at first, but then I realize the bigger mesh is not necessarily stronger. Those spaces are too wide open. Stuff could get through there. This will not give our heroine the security she craves. Out it goes. In a decidedly un-Goldilocks manner, I decide on the middle-gauge mesh.

 

Yikes! This is some honking big mesh!

 

Here is how the middle-gauge paper mesh looks in place on the page.

To finish off the edge of the page, and to keep going with a theme that I had introduced earlier, I wrapped the bottom edge of the page in one of my limited washi tape options, which you can see in the photo at the very top of this post as well as the photo that follows.

 

And here is what the page looks like turned. The black works well with the illustration of the birds and little girl as well as with the vintage paper of the book itself.

 

 

"Up went my feet, out went my arms, and PLOP!"

 

More to follow. Stay tuned. And thanks for following along. If you want to see the other parts in the series, just check out the archive bar at the left on the blog. It’s all there. Have you been inspired to alter a book by reading this blog? If so, please give me a head's up and let me know.

Interested in Part 7: You will find it here: http://lauratringaliholmes.blogspot.com/2013/06/dont-get-jittery-on-me-part-7-or-rage.html