This fall I collected leaves and pressed them in books, just like I did when I was a kid growing up in Toronto. Childhood memories of me and my mom, walking into the “Woods” – a protected area of old growth trees located just around the corner of our suburban home.
There I collected leaves in all shapes, sizes and color and took them home where they were placed between the pages of our large family Atlas to flatten.
Mostly Maples, they were then “artfully” arranged on sheets of white Bristol board and Saran wrapped over.
It was my first foray into found-object assemblage.
It was fun to play in the leaves again – a reminder in this post election day fervor, not to take life or art too seriously.
These leaves will travel to my Key West family.
Artists and long ago snowbirds, I know they will appreciate a little piece of our colourful Ozarks.