I’ve accumulated boxes of collages, artwork, and uncategorizable stuff over the years, and will be dumping a lot of it right here. Check back as more projects are added…

Project 2: Q and F Moral Obligations

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Around 1998 or so, I was back in the old hometown in South Carolina and working in an art supply store. There were many hours when nobody came in at all, and the days would drag by, giving me plenty of time to worry about my life. Fortunately, my bosses were kind and didn’t mind if I drew pictures between customers. Even more fortunately, I had a hilarious coworker who encouraged me to be as demented as possible.

One of the projects that survived from that era was this book of pictures of cats. I first drew them with empty speech bubbles, not sure what they were trying to say. A friend suggested that I leave them blank and sell them to people to send as greeting cards (I still think that’s a really good idea). One night I had a few more beers than usual, and as I lay on the floor in my hallway, I started filling in the bubbles. Pretty soon, I had a story.

Some thread and handmade paper transformed it into a book, a perfect wedding present for a friend. Before I put it in the mail, I dropped it off at a copy shop to have a bound copy made. When I came to pick it up, the copy shop employees were desperately curious to know what “IT” was.

Project 1: The Dachshund Collages of 2004

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When life hands you dachshunds, make dachshund-ade! That was my approach in 2004, a very sad year indeed. I’d just moved to Santa Cruz and had to find a job, a place to live, and some way to survive the crushing grief I felt over losing my brother the previous year. Organization was crucial, as was punctuality, so I bought myself a Dachshunds Weekly Engagement Calendar for one dollar at Borders.

Almost as soon as I started writing my appointments in it, I succumbed to the temptation to match these doggies with some favorite snippets of several trashy novels I’d found at the thrift store. These included a Sweet Valley High romance, a classic bodice-ripper romance, and a decidedly non-romantic but extremely dirty novel from the sixties. The books cost 25 cents each and provided much entertainment even before I started in with the scissors.

The Dachshund Collages of 2004 didn’t solve any of my problems. But life did feel easier for a few minutes every time I found another line to cut out of those sordid, cheesy books. The glue stick grime and jagged edges of text are evidence of how hard I was laughing every time I found a caption for some amazing dachshund scene. Feeling blue? Only got five bucks? Get thee to the thrift store for some cheap (in every sense of the word) therapy.