More, Always More

I hadn't even glued anything down and was already stuck.

I laid out fabric and prints on my table to try different compositions. The colors were great, and the textures were delicious, but I couldn't commit to anything and couldn't figure out how it would work.

I went upstairs, looked at our books for a while, got another cup of coffee, and came back down to the studio to start working on the panel. Nothing happened. My mind was blank.

What would I tell my students to do when they're stuck?

I got out my scraps and Fabriano watercolor paper and, working from the top of the scrap pile—not even digging down—I just started grabbing papers and making compositions.

I found these really textured papers that must have come from a Japanese paper pack. In my mind, they replicated the idea of working with a fabric background because they gave me that soft, muted color and texture without the weight of fabric.

This is where I started thinking about something larger: I'm interested in truly minimalist art, but I can't figure out how to get there. Creating small, scrappy studies like these should help me, but I keep adding more and more pieces to the composition. Maybe my art is telling me I'm not ready for collages made with only one or two elements.

I can’t help but add more.

Why do I keep adding more papers? Is it habit? Or evidence that I don't yet understand how minimalist art works? Or simply too much good paper that I can't help but use?

I made four compositions instead of one finished panel—but those small, scrappy studies taught me something worth exploring further, whether through more collages, study, or writing about why I keep making the pieces more complex.

Not a bad outcome for a studio session that started out so poorly.