For weeks now, I have been "collecting" ephemera. Scraps of paper, envelopes with interesting lining texture, those annoying postcards in magazines, receipts from purchases. I had no idea why. My mind sometimes has it's own agenda. I wait patiently until it decides to let me in on it's next idea. Last night I got the message. I started cutting house shapes from columns of newspaper type. Cutting small sections of colored backgrounds to use as windows and doors. And decided to use lines of journaling as the grass. This is my first collage--in my journal, on my morning page. If this has been done before--by millions--don't tell me. Let me just be joyful in this simple pleasure for a while longer.
I have wanted to collage with paper. But every little thing I make has looked too "forced", too awkward. Not me. These little houses speak directly to my heart. Even as a kindergartner, I loved the play house best of all. And I "played house". I asked Santa for little sets of dishes, little pots and pans. A crib for my doll.
If you read the journaling--I have decided that my muse is the wastebasket. Refuse. Discards. I choose the Webster's definition---" the uncultivated land". I am happy. I have a plan.