As a mixed-media painter and printmaker, my creative process is often messy. My studio floor and worktables are constantly littered with scraps of paper in all shapes, colors, and textures. To some, these scraps might look like discarded bits ready for the trash, but to me, and to many other artists and makers, they hold endless creative potential.
On day, I gathered the scraps into a pile and began to play. I started arranging, shifting and layering. Some arrangements lasted only seconds before I shuffled the pieces again. But as I played, compositions emerged—abstract forms that held an interesting and wonderful energy. I took photographs of each fleeting creation, capturing their temporary beauty before shifting them into something new.
And then, there it was. Among the abstract compositions, one arrangement caught my eye, it resembled a tugboat or some kind of vessel. But it wasn’t just any vessel. Something about its shape, its presence, stirred something deeper in me.
It reminded me of the first ship my husband served on in the Navy, the USS Grapple, a rescue and salvage ship. Seeing the familiar silhouette emerge from a random pile of scraps felt like a moment of recognition, as if the paper had arranged itself into a memory waiting to be seen.
I took a photograph of this composition and turned it into a high-quality print, preserving the moment and transforming a pile of paper scraps into a piece of art with a story to tell.
This experience reinforced something I deeply believe: creativity isn’t about having the best materials or the perfect conditions. It’s about seeing possibilities where others may see limitations. It’s about allowing space for unexpected inspiration. It’s about embracing the process of discovery.