I found myself frantically shredding paper and fabric. Covered in rubber cement, feathers, and plastic gemstones. Surrounded by magazines, old chinese fortunes, tarot cards, movie ticket stubs, you name it - I was forever on a mission to effectively assemblage my trash. I've tried scrapbooking, it just isn't the same thing as working on a wall piece. I don't want another place to put random fragments of my life, I want to trim the fat and display the meat. Even if it is just for my own personal enjoyment. I gave up on rhyme or reason a long time ago and just went with it, figuring at least my mother will enjoy my collages. Well, enjoy!
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