building a boat from a pile of crap
where we learn some things at the London Collage Project
It’s 7:45am on Tuesday morning here in London, and I’m working my way out of the Airbnb and back to the London Collage Project studios. Yesterday was my first real day in the studio,1 and I struggled. I might struggle again today. I don’t know that I figured out what the problem was, and without knowing and understanding that, I don’t know how to move past it.
The workshop here came with one real constraint, one rule to follow: each artist should leave their various collage materials at home and source everything here in London. Fine. I went out and found maps and books and bits on the sidewalks and trash. We have a communal pile of material in the studio as well. Awesome. Done. Easy-peasy.
I quickly realized that there’s another unspoken constraint, which is if you’re going to travel this far and put yourself in this environment, different from what you’re used to back in the safe confines of home, why do the same thing here that you do there? Try something different.
And I think that this is where I stumbled. I’m working out what that means, here. Try something different. Is it to make a new kind of collage, an image completely different from what I make back in Philadelphia? Or is it okay to aim for something familiar and allow the process of getting there to be different?
The choice, I think, was made for me by decisions I’d made as I was packing, a week ago, in Philadelphia.
I can draw anywhere. I take my pens and paper, or my iPad, and no matter what I’m drawing or where I am doing it, it’s more or less the same. I’ve never made collage anywhere but my studio, and I think I learned yesterday what a location and tool-specific process it is. When I packed for this trip, I purposely left behind many of the odd tools that I use in my collage work, which I think lead to my collages having a look to them. Things like my various-sized hole punches, my cutting templates, my orbital sander, and my big colored pencils. Having made this decision, I probably should have seen this coming. But I came in feeling confident that I could just jump over those potential issues, and hey, it would all be fine, and while I’m jumping, I’ll just reinvent the wheel. Sure, let’s go!
I started without a plan. I only had a concept of a plan.2 I knew I wanted to focus on the narrowboat barges I’m seeing every day around the canals of Hackney Wick.
I love these goofy boats. They remind me of the trucks I was making in 2019, and they’re different from the insects and fish I’ve been working on lately. So, I thought that just merely by deciding to end up with a collage of a canal boat, that this was a plan. It’s not. And as I’m writing this, I think that this is what I learned yesterday. I struggled to do the same thing in the same way without access to my same place and things. I’m not sure how to solve this today. My hole punches and templates aren’t going to magically appear in a half hour when I get to the studio. So it will likely be something else. Patience? I said to someone last night over a beer that I think I need to not make this week about finished pieces. But instead, let the process run the show. What can I do with the things I have? That will lead to new shapes and colors and things, right? If I do at times see my materials and tools back home as crutches that at times limit what I attempt to do there, let that be the thing that kicks me in the pants, and find a different meandering path to build a new boat, here, in London.
Well, maybe it’ll work. Stay tuned.
I’d collected a dozen or so old books and cut the covers off, thinking I’d use them as the substrates for my work here. I woke up in the middle of the night on Sunday, hours before my work was to begin, and realized that it wasn’t happening. I needed larger panels. I needed wood.
I went for a run to shake things out and found a wood panel about seven feet long and 18 inches wide lying in a bin near the canal. This was almost perfect, but I needed a saw. We have no saw in our art supplies, so I walked fifteen minutes to a hardware store and bought the cheapest (£5.80) hand saw they had. It will work, but I miss my table saw back home, which I guess is the whole point of this post.3
I took some pictures of the studio and the artists at work yesterday. Google them. Follow them. They’re amazing.
I was taken to see my first Premiere League Football match at Craven Cottage. Sadly, Fulham fell to Manchester City 2-0, but I had a great time.
The studio doors opened on Sunday, and we spent the morning setting the place up. Everyone else got to work, as I headed out to a proper English football match at Craven Cottage with my friend Sam Arthur, creative director at Flying Eye Books.
Yes, I know where this phrase comes from. But I like it. It works here better than it did there.
I’ll admit, though, I felt kind of badass cutting these wood panels down. I like when my art supplies come from the hardware store.
Great report Brian! Love the photos of everybody! I am still figuring out everybody’s names. Glad you added them. Glad you made it back in time for last call.
Hi BB…this sounds like it could have been a rough trip! i am glad your are conquering the frustration and seeing the ways you use your creativity uniquely. TallyHo…You got this!