Why Pattern Collage?

The first decorative paper I remember buying was royal blue covered with thousands of gold and silver flecks. I saw it at Kinokuniya, the Japanese book and gift store inside of Uwajimaya in Seattle’s International District. This was the first time I had bought fancy paper that wasn’t wrapping paper. I had just graduated from college that weekend with my degree in art history – because trying to get a degree in painting gave me a bunch of trauma. I had no idea yet just how pivotal buying this paper would end up being for the future of my artistic path. Over the next 20 years I would occasionally buy more decorative papers. My special favorites were marbled papers and Florentine papers filled with colorful acanthus leaves and gold curlicues. I sat with all these papers for years before I figured out what I could do with them. I don’t remember exactly when or how it started, but I began using them as backgrounds for my art. The original blue paper with gold and silver became a starry sky upon which I drew with colored pencils and glued some other collage elements cut out from magazines. Around 2010 I discovered acrylic mediums that would allow me to draw on decorative papers more easily. Pastel medium is still my favorite. A couple of coats gives paper an almost sandpaper like tooth that allows pastels and soft colored pencils to be used on it in a very painterly kind of way. This is still the technique I use on most of my collages. Transparent watercolor medium is another. Not only does this medium turn any paper into watercolor paper, but it also gives it a bit of tooth that makes it possible to draw with more ease on more delicate papers.

Here you can see the paper that started it all! I covered it with transparent watercolor medium and drew the pillars of creation nebula - as fish (2015)

The story of Rapunzel as geese, with marbled paper background (2015)

I drew with Prismacolor pencils on decorative papers covered with pastel medium in a lot of different contexts. I used this technique for show posters, ACEO artist cards, bookmarks, but mostly just for small artworks. In some ways I must admit, I was using this technique as sort of a crutch because I didn’t trust my ability to draw backgrounds. Why draw a background when you can have one done for you? I still don’t think I can draw backgrounds if I’m honest.

An assortment of ACEO cards I created with various decorative papers, ca 2014-2015

In 2020 I remember sitting on the couch where I was house sitting and looking at downloadable decorative papers on Etsy. I was amazed at the variety and complexity of the patterns. I just wanted to collect them all! I ended up buying quite a few collections of them, all with fair use commercial licenses because I knew I would end up using them in some capacity. For the next few months I ended up using them just as I always had, as backgrounds for my drawings. I was getting more creative with these backgrounds though, and in late 2020 I used them as the central image to be surrounded by a medieval inspired illuminated border.

Note that now Etsy is completely overrun with digital downloads obviously created with AI, so much so that it is nearly impossible to find real vintage patterns or other carefully curated collections.

Libertatum Nituntur, or Climbing to Freedom, from my 2020 collection called You Are Worthy. 18x18 inches


I must note that all this time, 20 years after I graduated from college, I was still carrying around with me a lot of doubt and the residue of art school trauma. I didn’t actually believe I could draw anything well, but I felt that to be taken seriously as an artist I had to draw hyper realistically. Going by these parameters I could only fall far short. Of course I know this was a pretty silly idea. I know that there is a lot of great art out there that is far from hyper realistic, but it’s been very hard to retrain my unconscious mind.

One day I sat with my folder of printed out patterned papers and started playing with them. I started organizing them into pairs that looked good together. That’s when I had an idea: what if I could combine them in a simple collage? That’s when my collection called BirdCore was born! I was just making collages using simple apple shapes, then drawing birds on top. I had so much fun creating the collages that I forgot my art school trauma, and it was only then that I realized I hadn’t truly enjoyed making art since I was in high school. How sad!

Goldfinches from my 2021 collection BirdCore, 4x4 inches


Right after BirdCore I started making more complex collages with these papers involving lots of flying bird silhouettes. It is this technique I’m using in the collections I call Sparrow’s Descent and Luminescence. I decided I should learn to make my own patterns and took a class, which led to creating collages with my own patterned papers, which you can see in Death vs Rabbit.

Fencing from my 2023 collection Death vs Rabbit.

The joy I found in collecting patterned papers and in putting them together into collages gave me a new lease on artistic life. It has been an ever growing and evolving obsession for the past five years, and one that has helped me find and articulate my unique style. While I call it “pattern collage,” it’s an aesthetic that has roots in the art movement known as Pattern and Decoration. Pattern and Decoration was a movement from the 1970s and 80s, often considered the last true art movement before the internet came along and changed how we see “the progression” of art. Pattern and Decoration, or P&D for short, was founded by women rebelling against the male dominated aesthetics found in galleries and museums of the day. The creation of pattern - as in the design of fabrics, quilts, and wallpapers - were considered “not real art,” mainly because these arts were dominated by women. P&D was an attempt to reclaim women’s rightful place in the art world.

Hidden Chambers by P&D artist Joyce Kozloff 1976

Heartland by P&D artist Miriam Schapiro 1985

That’s a movement I can get behind! I had a vague memory of learning about Pattern and Decoration in art history class, but finding it again has been quite inspiring. The main critique leveled at it is that all these patterns together is just too loud and too much. It’s certainly not for everyone, but it definitely made a big statement when minimalism was the dominant trend of the era. Maximalism, minimalism’s opposite, is trending once again today, which is great news for me. When else was maximalism trending? Think Baroque, Rococo, and Victorian eras, really fancy times indeed! With my concurrent obsession with ornamentation from the 18th and 19th century, pattern collage becomes even more meaningful for my aesthetic.

A room inside Linderhof Palace, very maximalist!

It wasn’t until fairly recently that I noticed a deeper meaning in my use of maximalism. As my work is getting ever more spiritual, I notice these little things that enhance my message. I believe one reason we incarnate on earth is to learn the art of limitation. In spirit we can do it all! Without the weight of a body we are capable of anything we can imagine. That sounds great, but it also comes with its own burden. People tend to hate having to make too many decisions. In a realm where you are good at everything, how do you decide what to study in depth? This is one role for incarnation. Through exploring our limitations we also learn to delve deeper into the few things we can do and know. Within the confines of a body we have to learn discipline to gain the coordination required to do what we really want to do. These are skills and wisdom we can take back with us to the spirit world after each lifetime, and thus grow as a soul.


With this in mind, I can look at my more complex pattern collages and see the bright and beautiful swirling chaos of spirit, a realm of infinite possibilities and abundant energy. There’s a hint of that world beyond limitations. At the same time there is an order emerging from that chaos. The shapes and forms of birds come into focus, and the canvas begins to organize itself into one cohesive picture. That which initially appears as chaos soon comes into view as patterns that make sense.

The magenta collage from the upcoming collection Sparrow's Descent

I look forward to continuing the evolution of my pattern collage work. I have plans for more collections involving patterns I make myself, but this kind of work also creates a lot of scraps. With every collage I gain a multitude of leftover pieces just begging to be put to use. I’m also starting to make bigger artworks, which ends up leaving even more scraps behind! It’s truly a process that continues to feed itself. And one of the best things I’ve learned from this process is that play can heal trauma. To find joy in something that has lost its luster, it is imperative to take the art of play seriously.