Post #186 Ode to a Paper Plate

 One reason I was such a good art history teacher was that I taught the subject from the viewpoint of a working artist, like myself. I could turn out a credible Renaissance “Madonna” on the blackboard in the blink of an eye.

But here’s the meat of my blog: My favorite period in art history has always been Ancient Greek ceramics, preferably from the 5^th and 6^th century B.C. I connect it to my childhood love of drawing on paper plates. In fact, I got my “start” as an artist in kindergarten by creating a much-admired paper plate. I don’t remember what it looked like; all I remember is that my teacher held it up to visiting parents as an example of the quality art produced in her class. It sealed my fate. My mother was besides herself. And when, as an adult, I made the connection to Ancient Greek pottery, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to create plates all my own. Off I went to the local Party Shoppe at the Mall, bringing home stacks of paper plates, all kinds: shiny black ones, cheap white ones. 100 to a pack. I was in creative pig heaven. During the many years I worked for the City of Stamford as an architectural “consultant,” I survived endless boring meetings by drawing on my lap under the table on the paper plates that were brought in to hold inedible snacks.  My unwitting models, the people who sat at the meetings with me, never knew they had been captured for posterity on a penny’s worth of cardboard.

Over the past dozen or more years, I have carried the Art of the Paper Plate to a higher level, this time Inspired by the ancient Greeks, not boredom. I bought a package of black construction paper and, with a pair of incredible pre-war German scissors I found at a tag sale (they read my mind), I proceeded to create my own Classical art. From my subconscious, no drawing required, the cheapest material imaginable, I began to cut out a cast of characters: silhouette figures based on my love of Greek ceramics. There was never a story, just whatever the scissors came up with. I have stacks of images. I could literally paper entire walls with them (and one day may do just that).

The moral of the story is, you don’t need expensive materials to create a work of art: just your imagination and the willingness to let your subconscious lead the way.  I’m already on to my next step, life size “murals” using the overhead projector. I project my small cutouts to whatever size I want, from inches to feet. These are ‘ephemeral’ but can always be captured with my IPhone or cut out of sheets of brown wrapping paper. I can’t wait to see what happens next. Many years ago, I picked up some colored cellophane from an industrial dumpster and now I can add color to my images. Wait until you see them!

By the way, check out an old blog of mine, Post #  1  called “Arte Povera,” (literally “Poor Art, ”a movement that began in Italy after World War II that emphasized using “humble, non-traditional materials like concrete” (or paper plates).