I didn’t grow up in a particularly artsy family. My parents were loving, practical and hardworking, and believed strongly in education for their six children. I assumed art school was not an option for me. It seemed too impractical, so I never even thought about going. But I loved to draw from a young age and was labeled an artistic child.
I remember sitting at my desk and enjoying a prominently displayed cut-paper snowman I created that my third grade teacher, Mrs. Wheeler, loved. In fourth grade, I won a litterbug poster contest, and later friends running for class offices or attending pep rallies would invite me to make posters for them.
As a young adult, I completed a master’s degree in social work and spent my career working with older and disabled adults. I incorporated art and creativity whenever I could. Between working, raising children, maintaining a marriage and managing household chores, I was always on the lookout for unique workshops where I could learn from other artists. Over the years, I took many art courses and will forever be a lifelong learner.
I’ve spent decades creating art. It’s always been about the process of making for me. Monetizing my art has not been my focus. My creative nature, which I recognized and loved as a child, has evolved and expanded as I’ve aged. It has brought meaning and joy to my life and connected me to my true self and others.
My daily art practice is about meditation, spirituality, reflection, self-expression and connection. It grounds me and allows me to be seen. It reflects what matters to me. I do love sharing my art and my process. In addition to the intrinsic benefits I gain, the positive feedback from social media I get contributes to the momentum and energy for more making.
The freedom of making art in my style — whimsical, playful, and with a goal to make people smile and engage — has been crucial to my development as an artist. Because both my spouse and I worked full time and I wasn’t dependent on selling my art to pay bills, I’ve always had the ability to do it my way.
In Your Brain on Art, Susan Magsamen and Ivy Ross write that “the need to create and make is fundamental to humans,” and that certainly holds true for me. Making art has been as essential to my day-to-day life as exercise, nutrition, rest and connecting with others. I often dream about making art. In the morning, if I have an art project in process, I rise with enthusiasm to get back at it. I get lost in my art making. This feels important and rejuvenating.
Cut-paper illustration is at the forefront of my art practice these days. My attraction to this type of art likely began way back in Mrs. Wheeler’s class, but I took a more serious interest after looking at how-to books by Eric Carle when my kids were little. I loved the manufactured painted paper from those books, which had the consistency of tissue paper. I remember creating a fish by cutting the paper into different shapes and piecing the paper together to form the fins, the tail, and the head.
Paper is a great medium to work with because there’s always an abundance of it around the house — junk mail, used envelopes, catalogs, cardboard and recycled magazines. It is not considered precious, as some materials are. On top of that, cleanup is easy and the other materials needed are fairly inexpensive. Often, I create my own hand-painted papers, with mixed media paper and acrylic paint.
For me, being an artist is a way of life and an orientation toward the world. John Cleese labels this “a way of operating.” I try to live life with an open, experimental attitude, always inviting inspiration to collaborate with me. Inspiration comes from everywhere, often unexpectedly. I always make room for awe and wonder in my life. It actually seems as though the more frequently I make room for that, the more inspiration comes. As Rachel Pollack has written: “By releasing creative power we open ourselves up to receive a further flow.”
Inspired by an Instagram challenge, I made a sweet series of my cat Molly and have continued to make some art with her as the subject. Of course, Molly isn’t the only subject I include in my paper creations. I make images of many other subjects as well.
When I’m ready to create, I choose a central image for my piece — like a book, cat, or a garden — and develop a sketch. I’ll often do a Google search for royalty-free drawings of the object, which help me to discern and stylize the central image. I look for images with angles that I can easily break down into several pieces. I hand sketch with a pencil and trace the sketch as an image with pieces on light-weight cardboard (cereal boxes work great!) using carbon paper. Then I cut out the pieces and number them all, back and front.
Next, I decide on a background for the piece. This is where the pieces of the central image will be arranged, and eventually glued onto. Deciding on a color palette is an important part of the overall project. I’ve learned that my art is more pleasing when I stick with just a few main colors and pick variations of those throughout the piece.
Collage is all about layering. It can be challenging to decide which pieces will get glued down first. Each piece of paper is chosen with the color palette and appropriate texture in mind before it’s glued down. I might also decide to add supplemental images to the central image in order to tell a more vivid, interesting narrative. For instance, I might add a charming cat dish to a Molly piece.
I play with and rearrange the pieces to obtain the most pleasing composition. The final steps in the process are like magic, as it all comes together. It’s like a puzzle. The last step is gluing everything onto the paper. The piecing together of cut paper challenges my brain to function in a different way. Along with being creative and intuitive, this part of the process is systematic and precise.
Neuroscience research suggests that being creative contributes to our brain health, and in my case, this feels true. Allowing myself to be creative has enhanced my well-being and mental health. Making art has expanded my imagination, creativity and permission to make mistakes. By experimenting with new techniques, I’m constantly learning and am unafraid to make bad art, which is a natural part of the process. As Henri Matisse said: “Creativity takes courage.”
My art practice has always been sacred to me, whether in the limited free time after my children went to bed or in the mornings with coffee now that they’ve grown. For me, carving out time, creating space, having accessible art materials, and living alone or with someone who understands your needs, are the most important components of a consistent art practice.
I create because I cannot NOT create. Fortunately, I have a large extended family, so I am frequently making celebration banners and pop-up cards and writing illustrated letters that are purposefully made to leave my house. But aside from handmade cards, I rarely give my original artwork as gifts, which results in quite a volume of finished pieces. I don’t assume other people love my creations as much as I do but, of course, if someone asks to buy a piece, that’s a different story. I keep my eyes open for open calls, exhibits and retail opportunities.
Rejection is part of the game. Believe me, I’ve experienced lots of it. As an artist, I have had to grow thick skin. After a rejection, I get discouraged for a minute, then put myself and my art back out there. I try not to take the rejection too personally.
I fully celebrate the successes and express gratitude to those who are hungry for my art. I have experienced the joy of a local magazine wanting to feature my work in a story, a local makerspace inviting me to teach workshops, and a favorite museum buying and stocking my cards in their gift shop.
Over the past few years, I have begun teaching “Creativity and Aging” workshops and encourage my students to have fun with paper. I hope my story gives others permission to be playful with and curious about art and stick with whatever they’re creating. Make time to make art. Remember that developing and practicing creativity is a form of self-care. It’s through nonjudgmental and consistent play that my own creativity has blossomed.
My artwork is always changing. Stay tuned for my newest creations, which combine vintage photographs and cut paper.
I didn’t grow up in a particularly artsy family. My parents were loving, practical and hardworking, and believed strongly in education for their six children. I assumed art school was not an option for me. It seemed too impractical, so I never even thought about going. But I loved to draw from a young age and was labeled an artistic child.
I remember sitting at my desk and enjoying a prominently displayed cut-paper snowman I created that my third grade teacher, Mrs. Wheeler, loved. In fourth grade, I won a litterbug poster contest, and later friends running for class offices or attending pep rallies would invite me to make posters for them.
As a young adult, I completed a master’s degree in social work and spent my career working with older and disabled adults. I incorporated art and creativity whenever I could. Between working, raising children, maintaining a marriage and managing household chores, I was always on the lookout for unique workshops where I could learn from other artists. Over the years, I took many art courses and will forever be a lifelong learner.
I’ve spent decades creating art. It’s always been about the process of making for me. Monetizing my art has not been my focus. My creative nature, which I recognized and loved as a child, has evolved and expanded as I’ve aged. It has brought meaning and joy to my life and connected me to my true self and others.
My daily art practice is about meditation, spirituality, reflection, self-expression and connection. It grounds me and allows me to be seen. It reflects what matters to me. I do love sharing my art and my process. In addition to the intrinsic benefits I gain, the positive feedback from social media I get contributes to the momentum and energy for more making.
The freedom of making art in my style — whimsical, playful, and with a goal to make people smile and engage — has been crucial to my development as an artist. Because both my spouse and I worked full time and I wasn’t dependent on selling my art to pay bills, I’ve always had the ability to do it my way.
In Your Brain on Art, Susan Magsamen and Ivy Ross write that “the need to create and make is fundamental to humans,” and that certainly holds true for me. Making art has been as essential to my day-to-day life as exercise, nutrition, rest and connecting with others. I often dream about making art. In the morning, if I have an art project in process, I rise with enthusiasm to get back at it. I get lost in my art making. This feels important and rejuvenating.
Cut-paper illustration is at the forefront of my art practice these days. My attraction to this type of art likely began way back in Mrs. Wheeler’s class, but I took a more serious interest after looking at how-to books by Eric Carle when my kids were little. I loved the manufactured painted paper from those books, which had the consistency of tissue paper. I remember creating a fish by cutting the paper into different shapes and piecing the paper together to form the fins, the tail, and the head.
Paper is a great medium to work with because there’s always an abundance of it around the house — junk mail, used envelopes, catalogs, cardboard and recycled magazines. It is not considered precious, as some materials are. On top of that, cleanup is easy and the other materials needed are fairly inexpensive. Often, I create my own hand-painted papers, with mixed media paper and acrylic paint.
For me, being an artist is a way of life and an orientation toward the world. John Cleese labels this “a way of operating.” I try to live life with an open, experimental attitude, always inviting inspiration to collaborate with me. Inspiration comes from everywhere, often unexpectedly. I always make room for awe and wonder in my life. It actually seems as though the more frequently I make room for that, the more inspiration comes. As Rachel Pollack has written: “By releasing creative power we open ourselves up to receive a further flow.”
Inspired by an Instagram challenge, I made a sweet series of my cat Molly and have continued to make some art with her as the subject. Of course, Molly isn’t the only subject I include in my paper creations. I make images of many other subjects as well.
When I’m ready to create, I choose a central image for my piece — like a book, cat, or a garden — and develop a sketch. I’ll often do a Google search for royalty-free drawings of the object, which help me to discern and stylize the central image. I look for images with angles that I can easily break down into several pieces. I hand sketch with a pencil and trace the sketch as an image with pieces on light-weight cardboard (cereal boxes work great!) using carbon paper. Then I cut out the pieces and number them all, back and front.
Next, I decide on a background for the piece. This is where the pieces of the central image will be arranged, and eventually glued onto. Deciding on a color palette is an important part of the overall project. I’ve learned that my art is more pleasing when I stick with just a few main colors and pick variations of those throughout the piece.
Collage is all about layering. It can be challenging to decide which pieces will get glued down first. Each piece of paper is chosen with the color palette and appropriate texture in mind before it’s glued down. I might also decide to add supplemental images to the central image in order to tell a more vivid, interesting narrative. For instance, I might add a charming cat dish to a Molly piece.
I play with and rearrange the pieces to obtain the most pleasing composition. The final steps in the process are like magic, as it all comes together. It’s like a puzzle. The last step is gluing everything onto the paper. The piecing together of cut paper challenges my brain to function in a different way. Along with being creative and intuitive, this part of the process is systematic and precise.
Neuroscience research suggests that being creative contributes to our brain health, and in my case, this feels true. Allowing myself to be creative has enhanced my well-being and mental health. Making art has expanded my imagination, creativity and permission to make mistakes. By experimenting with new techniques, I’m constantly learning and am unafraid to make bad art, which is a natural part of the process. As Henri Matisse said: “Creativity takes courage.”
My art practice has always been sacred to me, whether in the limited free time after my children went to bed or in the mornings with coffee now that they’ve grown. For me, carving out time, creating space, having accessible art materials, and living alone or with someone who understands your needs, are the most important components of a consistent art practice.
I create because I cannot NOT create. Fortunately, I have a large extended family, so I am frequently making celebration banners and pop-up cards and writing illustrated letters that are purposefully made to leave my house. But aside from handmade cards, I rarely give my original artwork as gifts, which results in quite a volume of finished pieces. I don’t assume other people love my creations as much as I do but, of course, if someone asks to buy a piece, that’s a different story. I keep my eyes open for open calls, exhibits and retail opportunities.
Rejection is part of the game. Believe me, I’ve experienced lots of it. As an artist, I have had to grow thick skin. After a rejection, I get discouraged for a minute, then put myself and my art back out there. I try not to take the rejection too personally.
I fully celebrate the successes and express gratitude to those who are hungry for my art. I have experienced the joy of a local magazine wanting to feature my work in a story, a local makerspace inviting me to teach workshops, and a favorite museum buying and stocking my cards in their gift shop.
Over the past few years, I have begun teaching “Creativity and Aging” workshops and encourage my students to have fun with paper. I hope my story gives others permission to be playful with and curious about art and stick with whatever they’re creating. Make time to make art. Remember that developing and practicing creativity is a form of self-care. It’s through nonjudgmental and consistent play that my own creativity has blossomed.
My artwork is always changing. Stay tuned for my newest creations, which combine vintage photographs and cut paper.
