Category Archives: collecting

Nest

  • To create and settle into a warm and secure refuge
  • A container or shelter made by a bird out of twigs, grass, or other material to hold its eggs and young
  • A snug retreat or refuge; resting place; home

Every spring new mama birds build nests in the nooks and crannies around my house. I am always wowed by these beautifully woven structures. I have amassed a good collection of abandoned nests over the years.

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Sometimes I use the nests, or inspiration from the nests, in my own work.

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Playhouse (detail)

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Family Tree

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Nest/Egg

These amazing structures inspire meditations on themes of love, nurture, liberation, loss, and rebirth.

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Liberation Mandala

Paper chase

My Year in Paper, 2014

My Year in Paper, 2014

I have always been a maniac paper collector. I came from a printing business family, so had deep paper roots and access to an endless supply of paper, sample books, and discarded make ready sheets, which fascinated me from early childhood. I loved to make collages and I collected paper of all kinds. I began to supplement my supply with papers that I found and, as I got older, bought. Now most of my art involves found and recycled materials.

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Great paper is the easiest thing in the world to come by. Colors, designs, and textures are everywhere. My collection contains used wrapping paper and tissue paper, birch bark, New Yorker magazine pages, tie-dye-stained newspaper from camp arts & crafts. I keep cardboard, labels, old greeting cards and stationary, discarded soap wrappers, used shopping bags.

I like to find stores where I can buy interesting paper cheaply, like the tiny now-defunct Moroccan store at Broadway & 97th. Or the junky but great Pearl River Mart in lower Manhattan. Once in a while I make a trip to New York Central, the shrine of paper lovers, or to Kinokuniya, where I happily spend too much money on a beautiful piece of Japanese washi paper or a sheet or two of handmade paper from somewhere around the world .

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Dear friends have given me gifts of paper that come from places as far away as Katmandu. I spend a lot of time skulking around recycling bins. Once I gave a wrapped gift to friends who were hosting me, and later that night quietly dug my wrapping paper out of their trash can and put it back in my suitcase. You get the idea.

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The thing is, I can remember where just about every paper in my collection came from. So in that sense, the collection serves as my journal. Each one marks a place and time in my life. To me, rather than a jumble of unconnected scraps, my paper assortment seems like an autobiographical narrative. And I write and rewrite this narrative in various ways.

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My Year in Paper, detail

I save every scrap of paper, no matter how small. When the pieces get really small, they get used for something like this bottle, which is filled with tiny collage-making scraps. To me, it feels like a self-portrait.

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Recently, I spent some time trying to design a business card for myself. I was stumped for ideas for awhile. But then it came to me…

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