I am
ephemera–
the residue
of paper and glue

maybe saved
but maybe
not—no one
sees me now–

I am
neither lost
nor found–
just here

Seeing Man Ray’s “Revolving Doors” prints at the Met made me think of all the collages I did in the 1980s, including many of abstracted doors. The prints, “a mix of figurative and mechanistic forms” were first collages, and then transferred to prints with porchoir, a stencil-based printing technique I had never heard of.

There were 10 different prints, which Man Ray mounted in what he called revolving doors. Supposedly when you spin them, they work one to the other in a kind of cinematic composition.

The collages of my youth were much simpler than what I do now, which is the opposite of how things are supposed to go. I like them, but I could never recreate that style.

They were packed away in storage and forgotten for over 30 years, until I decided to clear out my portfolios. A lot of them used Pantone Paper left over from my design work doing color paste ups of stripes. I’m sure all that work is done on a computer now.

I still collect all kinds of paper–it’s a big component for my art. I prefer texture and working with my hands to screens. I’m also aware of the fact that it disintegrates. Which is part of its appeal, its non-preciousness.

The prompt this week from Dennis at W3 to write from the point of view of some ordinary non-emotive thing made me think–paper in and of itself is insignificant. A collage I do and then put in a portfolio and never look at in a way ceases to exist. But everything takes on meaning if it intersects our lives. Something like a broken stapler or even the lint in a dryer can take on a lot of meaning, depending on context. And there is always context.

I’ve also used Esther Chilton’s writing prompt word save.

And don’t forget to check in with host Dan Antion for more doors at Thursday Doors.

I’m taking an early break for the holidays. Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate!