“The words you speak become the house you live in.”

~ Hafiz 

 

 

 

Once upon a time, in a not-so-long-ago-yet-old-time-world, there was collage. It came from the French word coller, “to glue”.  Collage seems to have first showed up in European art around 1910 and its origins are attributed to the cubist artists, Picasso and Braque.

 

 

Then our digital world brought us a myriad of apps and programs that allowed us to manipulate a pixellated image. With the advent of digital collage, a new name had to be found for that old-timey method involving glue, scissors and papers and so it became known as analog collage.

 

 

 

Even books, our beautiful books, have to be differentiated between e-readers and old-fashioned paper. Newspapers and magazines too, are either print or on-line.

It is a choice between a virtual world or one that is tactile and sensory.

Before Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter, that cyber world where we collect friends and followers, there were face-to-face conversations. These were had while sharing a drink, walking down a trail or gabbing over a backyard fence.

 

 

Does this mean we only have virtual friends versus real ones? Oh dear…

Blessedly, it does not have to be an either/or situation. Maybe it’s like anything else…best in moderation. A little of this, a little of that.

Because in spite of the many drawbacks of our viral-driven news cycle and the shady ways in which videos, images and words are manipulated, I still feel that life has been enriched through our interconnected virtual web.

I love finding new websites, discovering new thoughts and finding out about ideas that I’d never learn of any other way. I love being able to connect to people on another part of the planet simply through our shared interests in art and ideas.

And although I know all our information is for sale, I still enjoy keeping up with far-away friends and relatives through Facebook and Instagram.

However, I don’t want to confuse hitting a ‘like’ on someone’s photo with the reality of an in-person conversation. I prefer a tactile life, not one that only exists through the tapping of my fingers on a keyboard.

I like kneading dough, chopping onions, hugging my husband and walking in the woods with a friend. I like pulling a needle and thread to repair a seam or felting wool to create a heart.

Perhaps moving into a more analog existence is merely a function of my age or maybe the shine from the novelty of all that is digital has dulled. I’ve written about this before, so it’s certainly not a new thought, but it is most definitely a recurring one.

Whatever the reasons, I find myself more and more interested in the tactile and the physical. I know I was already heading this way but I think moving into something as elemental as a log home definitely helped seal the deal.

When I’m in my studio, I gather my box of scissors, utility knives, cutting board and straight edge. I cut paper pictures and words from abandoned books and magazines. I rip random chunks of tissue and layer and lace them all together to create new images, manipulated only by my hand and imagination and held by glue.

I have no intention of giving up the worldwide web with all its wonderful and random connections. But I do know this, I want to spend the majority of my time in the world of the senses.

Life is real. It’s meant to be a tactile experience.

I love my analog life.