Cardboard heaven

Friday morning >> I pulled out a piece of paper that I tore from my drawing pad last week during figure drawing session. On that piece of paper I have a grocery list, my to-do list for the following week, a little sketch of the model, sketches of an interactive wall I am working on, the list of workshops for the next period of the 'salon' (a kind of an adult education for a the arts), this post, and a list of series of posts about cardboard and creativity. A kind of "the map of my brain" at that point in time.



"That point in time"  was right before the end of a series of cardboard furniture making workshops I have been giving. I felt exhausted and overwhelmed from the amount of work it entailed. Finally, as I was sitting in a room, hearing only the noise of the charcoal scraping the paper, and no "I need", and "she took this", I could finally hear my self think.

My studio is in my house, occupying half of the living room. When friends (mine or my kids) visit us, I see how the look on their faces changes when they come in the door. Some look at me in horror and some in excitement. Some see the potential of endless creations while others see piles of cardboard. Every once in a while I get a reality check, mostly with parents that come to pickup their kids. Then I look at my house and feel the urgency to find a remote place to work – a studio – a dream. But then I see my kids playing with cardboard scraps, cutting away instruments, playhouses, swards and so on, and I feel that this is heaven.


The next few posts I will be dedicating to cardboard and creativity because that is all I can see these days.


So get your knives and rulers ready
tali