Collage Series 2: Three Graces

Collage 2.8- Three Graces, copyright 2020 Linda Farrelly

Do these ladies look familiar? Sandra, Tina, and Nancy from Three Fates, another picture taken on the same day. These three, in many ways, were the center of my life. My grandmother Sandra was the head of the family. Aunt Tina had no children yet but loved to "borrow" my brother and me for outings and weekends. She was like a second mother to us. And of course, my mother Nancy. She enjoyed having us around but wasn't always sure what to do when things went south.

One day we were driving somewhere on the Long Island Expressway. Me and my brother were bickering (big surprise) and she had asked us to knock it off several times. Exasperated and about to blow her top, she pulled over on the side of the highway and told us to get out. We did, and she pulled away. We just stood there, unsure of what to do. We were both in grade school at the time. A few minutes later she came back and pulled over in front of us, just sitting there with the motor running. We promised to be good and got back in. It was never spoken of, at least not for a loooong time.

All of us have had these moments as parents. Nobody can drive you nuts-er than your own progeny. Were we scared? You bet. Did we simmer down once we got back in the car? Indeed. You have never seen two quieter children in your life.

Lately, I have become fond of using negative space in collages. Sometimes the cut-away "background" is at least as interesting as the figure I cut out. And what a fun way to talk about people's "internal" space, thoughts, feelings, moods. With these three women, everyone is smiling, but there's a lot going on inside them and between them. Lots of history, lots of emotion, lots of backstory.

Collage Series 2: Three Fates

Collage 2.7- Three Fates, copyright 2020 Linda Farrelly

Rummaging through the family pictures again. I found some pictures of (L to R) my aunt Tina, grandmother Sandra, and my mother Nancy. Not sure of the year, but I think it must be the mid to late 1960s. They were the universe from which I emerged, running through the woods in my red coat and hat.

I really did get to grow up running through the woods in Bald Hill Ski Bowl, something for which I am eternally grateful. We played in hollow trees, sledded down the service roads, rode bikes on the paths, took the shortcut under the fence that the neighborhood dogs had dug. In the winter, they flooded a basketball court for ice skating, renting out skates and selling hot chocolate. Sometimes I came across treasures in the woods. I once found a tiny bible, about 1.5" tall, and the pages pivoted out of the metal cover. I don't know what happened to that, but I do have the silver ring with a man's face on it that I found when I was about 7.

According to Wikipedia, the Three Fates "were the white-robed incarnations of destiny...Clotho ("spinner"), Lachesis ("allotter") and Atropos ("the unturnable", a metaphor for death). They controlled the mother thread of life of every mortal from birth to death. They were independent, at the helm of necessity, directed fate, and watched that the fate assigned to every being by eternal laws might take its course without obstruction. Both gods and men had to submit to them..."* Sounds about right, sounds like the women in my family. 

I like how their bodies sort of rise up and grow out of the picture of the nebula in the middle. Also, I enjoy how the trees at the top look like birds wings or feathered cloaks wrapped around the sisters, enclosing them, and protecting my world.

The nebula pic and the starry background came from Scientific American, and the trees came from Spark, put out by the most awesome Anythink Libraries.

*https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moirai

Collage Series 2: Caution Cuidado

Collage 2.6: Caution Cuidado, copyright 2020 Linda Farrelly

For about a week, the maintenance crew kept adding more caution tape every day, wrapping each piece of play equipment several times. I guess people didn't think they meant it? One day the basketball hoop was normal, then the net was gone but the hoop was there. Next, there was caution tape strung from the hoop in big sweeping swags (gorgeous blowing in the wind, but that day I had forgotten my phone so no pictures). Then the hoop disappeared entirely, and they cordoned off the whole area using equipment, posts, and benches to anchor the tape.

This playground has, for me, become a symbol of life during the pandemic. Devoid of children, cordoned off, declared a danger zone. But the bright yellow always cheers me, reminds me that there is a good reason, that this will be over (hopefully) soon, and children will run and climb and shout here once again.

The daffodils were still in bloom, but the dandelions had begun to join them. Except for the daffs, all of these pics are from the park in the center of our community.

Collage Series 2: Spring 2020

Collage 2.5: Spring 2020, copyright 2020 Linda Farrelly

On my daily walks during this time of social distancing, I began to take pictures to use in collage. Flowers, trees, the textures of a rock, the shadow of a tree. Sometime during the second week the daffodils started to bloom bright yellow, and so did the playground. Daffodil yellow caution tape encircled each play piece. It was a startling sight. I had wondered when, and if, and how that was going to happen. A swarm of children on playground equipment could spread covid 19 from one house to dozens of them in no time. Sad to see the playground out of bounds, but happy everyone else now had a better chance of making it through. A strange spring, 2020.

The playground is in the park at the center of our community, and the daffodils are from my yard. They live under the apple tree, enjoying the warm spring sun.

What surprises have you discovered lately?