Making
I recently came home with a stack of vintage magazines and photo books- Life magazines from the 1950s, National Geographic issues from the 1970s, and old textbooks- all destined for the same purpose: collage.
It's a hobby I've returned to on and off over the years, using whatever magazines I could find, my own photographs, or vintage postcards I bought in bulk on a whim. Last Christmas I even made our Christmas cards as collages, and I hope it becomes a yearly tradition.
Collage appeals to me for many of the same reasons photography does. Both ask me to notice shape, color, and composition. The difference is that photography reveals beauty in what already exists, while collage lets me imagine places that never have. By cutting apart real photographs and giving them a new home, I get to create surreal dreamscapes from ordinary pieces of the world.
Before I make anything, though, I spend time flipping through pages, pulling out images, sorting them by color or subject, and occasionally stopping to read an article. It's one of my favorite parts of the process. Part treasure hunt, part history lesson, I feel like a time traveler wandering through decades of fashion, language, and culture.
For a little while, while the kids are asleep, I get to travel without leaving my desk. It's become a welcome alternative to doomscrolling. Instead of passively consuming whatever appears on a screen, I slowly turn pages, letting my imagination wander. A landscape, an object, or a pair of hands catches my eye, and I begin wondering where it might belong next.
I think the desire to create is deeply human because it reflects the One who created us. Every act of making- whether through art, cooking, gardening, raising children, or simply building something with our hands- echoes the Creator in some way. Good art doesn't compete with His creation; it points back to it.
That must be one reason creating feels so life-giving. We spend too much of our lives consuming; images, headlines, opinions, entertainment- that it's easy to forget the joy of making something ourselves. Even the smallest act of creation reminds us that we were made for more than simply taking in the world. We were also made to leave something beautiful in it.
