Although I perceive aesthetic currents of spatial counterpoint, color harmony, and design unity, I find it nearly impossible to rationalize most of my individual collage compositions. As in most improvisational activity, there is sufficient value in the opportunity for mystery, surprise, discovery, and joy — plus, of course, the subjective response of each receptive observer.
Their Desperate State
collage miniature on book cover by J A Dixon
5.875 x 9.25 inches
Purchase this artwork.
“When painting and sketching plein air I sink into the landscape, an attuned witness to its mood and beauty.”
—Dianne Bersea
After the experience I had last September in Sault Ste Marie, I stayed attached to the particular idea that I could perfect a method of doing collage en plein air. I had no illusions about becoming a Tom Thomson or Rockwell Kent. I was just waiting for an opportunity to put my notion to the test, and I found it when the Plein Air Artists of Central Kentucky invited me to one of their summer outings.
I assumed going into the experiment that, aside from the creative challenge that faces any person working out of doors, a collage artist would need to be prepared to accommodate even the slightest of breezes. I had no coherent system for doing that and placed more of my focus on how to transport what I thought I would need on location. Fortunately, the scheduled gathering was on a day of gentle weather, so I was able to measure the potential hazard under ideal conditions. Truth be told, I still spent some time on hands and knees, searching for wayward scraps in the surrounding grass. Ideas for a more systematic approach took shape as I worked, and I also learned what would not be needed the next time out (perhaps equally important as identifying what was essential). Forgetting common white glue was a blunder, so I fell back on a desirable combination of wheat paste and gel medium. I rarely use a single adhesive anyway.
The process was more like painting with paper than what I have been used to — studio collage is more concerned with the ingredients themselves, but this was about interpreting what was visually in front of me. I was reminded of the small, square studies that an accomplished plein air painter showed me when I visited her studio in Berkeley, California. To develop the capacity to genuinely SEE what is before me is an exciting prospect (admittedly long overdue). As I move from everything being new and unfamiliar to a clearer sense of the potential for this activity, I can eventually pursue the inherent spontaneity and unexpected juxtapositions of true collage, rather than the effect of a simple, torn-paper rendering. Nevertheless, my initial emphasis must be on devising a more workable, mobile kit that guards against the qualities of wind, of which there is no degree so minimal as to not be undesirable when handling small paper ingredients. It is no surprise to me that relatively few collage artists are creating works entirely outside.
JWDB’s Domain
first plein air collage miniature by J A Dixon
4.625 x 4.625 inches
available for purchase
“Stressing output is the key to improving productivity, while looking to increase activity can result in just the opposite.”
— Paul Gauguin
My card-making activity continues at a much lower rate, compared to my peak years, and they still tend to fall into one of three categories:
• Series Alpha — combines scrap letters, often with traditional hand lettering arts.
• Series Omega — features my conventional collage technique, applied directly to the folded card.
• Series Pi — attaches an ultra-miniature dimensional collage to the card, like a little square-cut slice of “Pizza Pi.”
collage greeting card by J A Dixon
series Omega, collection of K Miller
collage greeting card by J A Dixon
series Alpha, collection of V E Dixon
collage greeting card by J A Dixon
series Omega, private collection
collage greeting card by J A Dixon
series Alpha, collection of R W Breidenbach
collage greeting card by J A Dixon
series Alpha, collection of J M Dixon
collage greeting card by J A Dixon
series Omega, collection of D Wells
As I have done every other spring for a number of years, I create an artwork for an event sponsored by the Arts Commission of Danville / Boyle County — An Art-full Affair, our biennual push to raise dollars for local arts scholarships. Each donation of artwork or creative service is matched by a ticket sale that admits a buyer and her guest to back-to-back parties — a Friday preview and a Saturday drawing. The first name pulled from the jar is able to pick from every available donation on display, until there is only one ticket holder and one item remaining. Each prize is guaranteed to be worth at least twice the value of the $100 admission. In addition, the final evening is broken up by two live auctions.
There are artists who, based on a perspective of refusing to support exploitation, are unwilling to contribute artwork to a charitable cause. I’ll admit that many people who run non-profit organizations can be cavalier about the value of creative labor, but nobody will ever take advantage of artists without their consent and participation. When I look at the deep tradition of pro-bono work in America, the adamant stance of certain creatives strikes me as “a tempest in a teapot.” I make my art donations infrequent and always local. I confess to taking satisfaction from helping a deserving youngster who otherwise would not be able to experience art, music, drama, or dance. It has nothing to do with exposure or professional advancement — a silly motivation from my point of view.
To Peach Is Owed was taken home by Kristin and Brandon Long, a pair of wonderful artists who preside over the most “art-full” family I know. A great outcome ~ a fun time ~ a worthy enterprise!
Two square details of the peach-themed collage artwork
were posted to the Instagram page of The Collage Miniaturist.
To Peach Is Owed
collage on structured panel by J A Dixon
inset into handcrafted frame from salvaged wood
18 x 20.5 inches
collection of the Long Family
I am convinced that supporting the arts makes for a more livable community, and calls for generosity, so I took part in the local Community Arts Center’s Art-A-Thon campaign this spring.
The CAC funds summer art-camps for young people, plus many worthwhile programs to nurture personal creativity in every segment of a diverse community. As part of the Art-A-Thon, I demonstrated my technique during a full day of arts activities in downtown Danville, working on collage miniatures and putting the finishing touches on my contribution to the Art-full Affair (the other big fundraising event this month, sponsored by the Arts Commission of Danville / Boyle County). More thoughts to come about To Peach Is Owed, my newest collage on structured panel.
My sincere “thank you” to everyone who helped me reach my Art-A-Thon goal. Your generosity is an inspiration! The last time I looked, the Arts Center had exceeded its target by nearly 50%, and my “team” landed in seventh place with $526 raised. Special appreciation to Katie Blake, who sent a generous donation all the way from Alaska!
I kept my nose to the collage grindstone all afternoon
at the local Art-A-Thon event on Saturday, May 13th,
and put some final touches on To Peach Is Owed, my
donation to the Art-full Affair drawing for art scholarships.
(photo by Kendra Peek)
It is with high anticipation that I await my first look at the new publication which documents the Dada Centennial exhibition organized by the Ontological Museum. My sincere thanks to Cecil Touchon for including the essay that I wrote last year — On Kurt Schwitters and a Century of Dada — but, most of all, for volunteering so much of his time to this historic observation and to the ongoing administration of the institution he founded, now located in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
The exhibition at the archives of the International Museum of Collage, Assemblage and Construction opened on November 4, 2016 and lasted through January 31, 2017. A worldwide array of Dada-inspired artists sent artworks for the show that will be added to the permanent collection. They are all displayed in the full-color, 275-page catalog that is available for purchase. A “Merz Painting” by Peter Dowker is featured on the cover. In addition to my essay, the publication has an introduction by Touchon, another essay by Drager Meurtant, Birth of Merz by Schwitters, original verse by Dada artists, writings by Hugo Ball, three of my experimental miniatures, and collage art by some whose work I have spotlighted here at TCM, including Dowker, Hope Kroll, Zach Collins, Nikki Soppelsa, Erin Case, Joel Lambeth, Melinda Tidwell, Evan Clayton Horback, and Katrien De Blauwer.
When I experienced the milestone Schwitters exhibition at the Berkeley Museum of Art in 2011, I failed to bring home the forty-dollar catalog. When I got back to Kentucky, I discovered that the compendium was already worth $200. I do not know what long-term plan the Ontological Museum has for this publication, but it may not always be available. Go online, take advantage of the current discount, and buy it now.
Grateful Ode to Merz
collage miniature on Bristol by J A Dixon
homage to Kurt Schwitters
collection of The Ontological Museum
Brendan’s Birthday Comic Strip Artifact
collage artifact by J A Dixon
12 x 7.375 inches
collection of B C Adkins
“Every athlete, every musician practices every day. Why should it be different for artists?”
— Christoph Niemann
Creating a collage within constraints is one of the most enjoyable activities within the medium, because it is necessary to throw oneself upon the mercy of pure intuition. Last week I was in the middle of caring for my mother at our family farm, and I assigned myself this exercise:
• Complete one full-page collage in my journal within the time of Mombo’s two-hour afternoon nap, using only ingredients found in the recycling bin.
Naturally, my journal is the perfect place to conduct such exercises. I take what I learn from the small format and bring it to larger artworks. What is it that I learn? That, too, is primarily a matter of fortifying one’s intuition. I hope to internalize the creative response that each experiment reveals and keep my collage process as subjective as possible. For me, nothing bogs down the making of a collage more than too much rational thinking, which is best reserved for aesthetic refinements, finishing touches, and creating titles.
Untitled (first cause)
constrained collage exercise by J A Dixon
page from 11×14 Strathmore journal
not for sale
Tangata Manu: Theory of Zeal
collage experiment on paper by J A Dixon
6.75 x 7 inches
Own this experiment.
Mermaid: Preliminary Calculations
collage experiment on paper by J A Dixon
6.75 x 7 inches
Own this experiment.
“I think to lose Kentucky is nearly the same as to lose the whole game. Kentucky gone, we cannot hold Missouri, nor Maryland. These all against us, and the job on our hands is too large for us. We would as well consent to separation at once, including the surrender of this capitol.”
— Abraham Lincoln, 1861
I am constantly experimenting, because I find it difficult to pluck a coherent idea from a “cold start,” and so I cultivate a habit of collage experimentation to preserve a state of receptivity and to invite the uncanny “synchronicities” from which a more rational concept can be refined. More often than not, there are no distinct memories associated with the genesis of an idea. It is unusual, therefore, to have a clear recollection of the creative lineage for I Must Have Kentucky, currently on display as part of 225: Artists Celebrate Kentucky’s History.
I was stumped about how to respond when a call to artists from curator Gwen Heffner announced an exhibition to observe Kentucky’s 225th birthday. I thought about the history of my own town (Danville, the first capital of the state), about the The Kentucky Documentary Photographic Project, about the story of tobacco growing families in Kentucky, and about the great Kentucky abolitionists. There were so many fascinating subjects, but none of them sparked a visual flame in my imagination. When I shared my befuddlement with Dana, my “partner in all things,” she suggested I consider doing something with Star of Abraham, an artifact I made in 2009 for the bicentennial of the 16th president’s birth. 
The bulk of my collected Lincoln images had been exploited to cover a salvaged metal star. To produce a collage tribute to the martyred leader with a folk-art quality seemed a technique appropriate to the occasion, and it was still in my studio, generating little interest from visitors. I liked the notion of using it as a “found object” in a larger assemblage, but there needed to be more to it than that. The solution finally hit me on a drive to our family farm, when I turned off the radio and focused on the rolling “knobs” that surrounded me: Lincoln’s famous declaration about his home state during the Civil War!
I got down a flurry of thumbnail concepts in my journal when I arrived at my destination. It was barely necessary to ever look at them again, because the development toward a final idea took on a momentum of its own. I realized I could enlarge my Lincoln theme with additional artisanship to include the importance of Kentucky in his strategic thinking. A design took shape in my sketches, and I searched my stash for images that would do justice to the “brother against brother, family against family” character of the conflict in a state that gave birth to the presidents of each warring side.
The expanded mixed-media construction is created from recycled materials — found ingredients include salvaged wood and metal, plus discarded books, magazines, maps, and mailed promotions. My lettering is hand painted with acrylics. 
Obviously, the dimensional star represents Abraham Lincoln. The five horizontal bands signify the final years of his life and the impact his decisions had on Kentucky and the United States during that time. Among the individuals featured are Kentucky native Jefferson Davis, Lincoln’s rival in war, and Senator Stephen A. Douglas, his rival in peace, plus Lexington native Mary Todd, her sons Willie and Robert, Munfordville native Simon B. Buckner, Frederick Douglass, U.S. Grant, Clara Barton, John Hunt Morgan, and others. Also represented: soldiers, their ladies, Kentucky coal miners, and the decisive Battle of Perryville.
The artwork commemorates our Commonwealth during 1860 to 1864, the most tumultuous period in its history. At the center of those pivotal years is the towering figure of its most illustrious native son, who encapsulated the significance of the border state to the cause of national unity when he reputedly declared:
“I hope to have God on my side, but I must have Kentucky”.
I secured the existing ‘Star of Abraham’ to a construction of five salvaged
wood planks, which alternates hand-painted lettering with my typical collage
treatment. My Lincoln artifact had finally found a fitting context.
I long have found interesting that Kentucky had given birth to both
presidential leaders in the national conflict, and I devoted a section of my
composition to that inexplicable fact.
Border-state Kentuckians were divided when war broke out. Munfordville
native Simon B. Buckner attempted to enforce its neutrality before accepting
a Confederate commission. He led troops at the strategic Battle of Perryville
in 1862, and later became a scandal-plagued governor of the Commonwealth.
One of my favorite spots in the piece: Lincoln’s boy Willie, U.S. Grant, a young
Frederick Douglass as a free man next to a slaveholder’s advertisement,
a superb wood engraving of combat, Clara Barton, Samuel Colt, and an image
of the Commander in Chief that indicates his unusual height.
Thanks for reading such a long entry. I invite you to register and comment here. Let me know what you think. If anything bugs you, constructive criticism is encouraged!