"Circus" was constructed with Crayola's "macaroni and cheese" colored crayon in mind. The Crayola color was a prompt from an art group I belong to, and the piece itself is a page from one of the art journals I'm making with J.O.Y. Hmmmm....macaroni and cheese....pasta...Italian foods...
....One of my favorite Italian chefs, Lidia Bastianich, has a lot to say about tomatoes. I know, because I read her books. They are full of useful information and history, so I don't merely flip through to look for recipies, I read them cover to cover.
A long time ago, I made all my tomato sauce using fresh tomatoes only. I thought this was the only way to go, but I was often disappointed. Crops are inconsistent and there are so many variables, including the amount of sunlight, rain, wind, animals, bugs, fertilizer, soil, picking time....an endless list really, and I haven't even begun to talk about crop varietals. Not only was the outcome of my sauce unpredictable (I taste every little flavor...), but sometimes it was disappointing.
Lidia changed all that with her words about canned San Marzano tomatoes. I won't go into it deeply, but suffice it to say that these tomatoes are grown in a small region of Italy which has environmental factors, including volcanic activity, which deliver a consistently, superior fruit. To be labeled San Marzano D.O.P. requires certification by the Italian government. It really is that big a deal.
That's when I started using canned tomatoes, and realized that the vastly superior sauce they make was still my sauce, even though the tomatoes came from a can. And it can be like this with art, too.
Do you always use your own handmade paper? That's wonderful, but it isn't necessarily preferable, although in some cases, it might be. Do you always labor over your own color mixes, or do you often apply paint right from the jar, tube, pan? Do you cut all of your own stencils, even if what you need are gradated circles and exactly what you want is sold at a price that is less than what you'd spend to make your own? If you use 3-D attachments such as flowers, do you always make them by hand, or do you sometimes buy Prima, or another brand? You may use these things or not, but what it all boils down to is what works best in which situation. Or at least artistically speaking, it should. It isn't a big leap to see that it's all valid, some of it's valid, or none if it's valid, depending on what you're doing and what your goals are. The answers could be different each time you apply the questions. The main thing is always to ask yourself questions, starting with, "what works best for this ___(insert project or part of project here)___, answer honestly, and then apply what helps you achieve your goal for the piece.
As applied to collage and the use of materials for collage, such as images, magazine pages, painted papers and commercially patterned papers, once again, it all depends on what you're doing and what your goals are, and the answers could be different each time you apply the questions. Not to be redundant, but to emphasize: What's valid to use will depend on what your goals are. That applies to art, as well to cooking, and the decisions are both purely personal, as well as knowledge based.
Sometimes collage is defined solely based on spatial relationships, and is artistically defined simply by the way the elements -- or the lack of elements -- are arranged in space. In this case, the individual elements of the composition are not important in and of themselves. It all about the the piece as a whole. The degree of pleasure, pain, excitement, attachment, affection, fear, disgust, or other gut reaction that comes from the piece as an entity, and not individually from it's elements, is what matters most and is what the artist is striving for. Other times, it has to do with the play and interchange of the elements themselves.
Collage often, but not always, utilizes things made by other people, as well as things made by the artist, and it is the juxtaposition of creations made by different creators that often defines and makes the art. One of the original schools of artistic thought defined collage by the use of materials not made by, but arranged by, the artist. And there are a many others types of collage, also defined by their "whys" and their goals. Add other media to collage, and the definitions change and expand. It's no wonder that art is hard to define, and that some people consider it impossible.
Schools of art (as opposed to art schools) and art movements throughout history have defined and redefined, just what "it" is that is to be considered art, setting some parameters, tearing others down, settling on some definitions, and leaving others up to change and revision. It's transparent and naive to make blanket statements like, "What's good is always up to each individual", or "Only (this or that) is good, regardless of what anyone else says". Polar opinions in art are traditionally viewed as the hallmark of the new kids on the block, and are often the brain children of people who are not actively involved in learning about or creating art. They come from those who try to define it without understanding the multifaceted gem that it is. Knowing the history of art and its movements is a big help. In art history, as all history, only through knowing what's transpired in the past, is it possible to apply relevant solutions to problems of the present. Art is dynamic, and its definitions can be truly understood only through its history.
Art movements and specific schools of thought create the philosophies, and it's these philosophies that go on to define art. In this way, what's valid, what's good, better, best, has really to do more with art history, and the emerging art philosophies throughout history, than art critique. But critique plays a significant, positive role, and not merely in the sense of analysis. The history of art is really the history of art movements, and different philosophical ideas about the hows and whys of art. These movements are vital to the spirit of art, as fiery and flaming as some of them have been. It takes great courage to be an artist. Instead of trying to silence the critics, to grow as an artist, one must learn to take criticism and let it roll like water off a duck, neither internalizing, nor ridding yourself of it either. Criticism forces artists, who by nature would rather "stay in the zone" as long as possible and never come up for air, into looking at what they're doing, and why. Art is fueled by confrontation, opinion, defending opinion, thought, assessment, and realization. It forces artists to go with the grain, or go against it. It forces the eventual development of opinions, a personality, and a style. Critical and confrontational arguments about what's valid are places an artist usually hates to go, and often hides from, but an artist can't continue in art until he's been there, and has resolved to go there again and again. Going there is what prevents stagnation, and helps one to avoid the point at which creation comes to a halt. And as awful and angst ridden as it may be, it takes a critic to bring the criticism one must face.
It's important to understand that I'm using the word "critic" in the classic sense. I'm not using the word "critic" as a psychological or emotional concept or component. I'm not talking about your "inner critics" as defined by creativity coaches. That's an entirely different arena. I'm talking about art critics in general, like the people who write for Salon, the Paris Review, or the New York Times. And I'm talking about artistic philosophies that confront and conflict and cry out for resolution of ideas. Even the absurd ones.
As for the resolution of ideas, resolving problems is what art is all about. Artists are problem solvers by nature. Beginning with the question, "What's my medium? Sculputre? Painting? Drawing? Assemblage? Fiber? Mixed?" moving on to, "What's my material? Metal? Marble? Plaster? Thread? Wood? Yarn? Paper with...paint? paper with pencil?" and on to, "What's my subject (or not if it's freestyled)? How and where do I make my first Mark? Stitch? Paintstroke? Chisel?" and then, "What comes next? and next? and next? What needs to be kept? Removed? Replaced? Altered? etc..." It's all about problems and solving them.
The problem>solution>problem>resolution nature of artwork is one of the greatest and yet less frequently spoken about benefits of art therapy, extraordinarily valuable for everyone, and especially for those who feel powerless to solve the problems that come their way in daily life. The brain doesn't always differentiate problem solving techniques. Often they're generalized and become universal, so that they can be drawn from and used in various unique and different situations. When you solve the problems inherent to artwork, whether you glue a button to a flower, or re-paint the Sistine Chapel, you've tapped into the same well. Whether you do this from a guided instruction format, from a master class, or from your own reserve of knowledge, it's still contains the model of problem>solution>problem>resolution.
So which tomatoes do you use and how do you use them? And when people say "that's right" or "that's wrong", let it run off your shoulders like water off a duck, but think about it also. Right or wrong, it's the collective opinions and schools of thought that define art, so it's good to hear what's being said, know your history, and pour whatever you have to say into your work, as well as your words. No matter how big or how small, we're all a part of this collective, historic tomato stew of art. Even if we won't be defined as individuals, but are simply elements arranged in the spatial whole. It's still about all of us.
is a great book for making whimsical moving toys with paper and card stock.
is in my library, and I've used it as a resource for more than one project.
isn't just for kids. There's a lot of basic information in this book that will translate into tons of your own original projects.
by Chris Reid is a great book with beautiful pictures and step-by-step instructions. Even if you're not into wood, the photos in this book make it a great addition to any home or studio library.
by Harlan Ellison, and 
by Iris Murdoch. Neither of them new; both are favorites of mine. And this is the book I'll be working my way through as my 100 bindings in 2012 progress: Alisa Golden's 
