![It’s no secret that I gobble up collage. Stereotypical television ransom notes, school project visual aids, Ezra Jack Keats’ illustrations in his long-revered children’s book The Snowy Day, it’s all pie for my eye. Can’t get enough of that delicious cut & paste. I love the hand-hewn imperfections, the way the different layers of paper anoint a form with subtle depth. It seems honest and devoid of pretension, almost like I could do it myself if I tried. Deep down, I know that’s not true. I’m so incredibly horrible at visual art, people have paid me to not make it. If my lack of artistic talent is a Montague, the discipline of collage is my aesthetic Juliet. Or something. Whatever, Shakespeare was drunk too.
I don’t care how retina-crushing the poster is, I’m not going to a show that’s headlined by my high school sweetheart’s favorite band. There’s a good chance I would’ve found her there, lurking by the merch table, her fingernails filed into mini scythes she’d use to shred my testes into tiny ribbons, materials for a skin collage she’d make and then sell on Etsy before Old Time Relijun even took the stage.
I stayed at home and watched Hard Candy.
[via Holocene]](http://28.media.tumblr.com/azxD5kcjld4xxzalKbkoT1Kt_400.jpg)
It’s no secret that I gobble up collage. Stereotypical television ransom notes, school project visual aids, Ezra Jack Keats’ illustrations in his long-revered children’s book The Snowy Day, it’s all pie for my eye. Can’t get enough of that delicious cut & paste. I love the hand-hewn imperfections, the way the different layers of paper anoint a form with subtle depth. It seems honest and devoid of pretension, almost like I could do it myself if I tried. Deep down, I know that’s not true. I’m so incredibly horrible at visual art, people have paid me to not make it. If my lack of artistic talent is a Montague, the discipline of collage is my aesthetic Juliet. Or something. Whatever, Shakespeare was drunk too.
I don’t care how retina-crushing the poster is, I’m not going to a show that’s headlined by my high school sweetheart’s favorite band. There’s a good chance I would’ve found her there, lurking by the merch table, her fingernails filed into mini scythes she’d use to shred my testes into tiny ribbons, materials for a skin collage she’d make and then sell on Etsy before Old Time Relijun even took the stage.
I stayed at home and watched Hard Candy.
[via Holocene]
