Signs from the Universe

I'm always looking for little Signs from the Universe. I realise that in saying this I am at risk of sounding a trifle Flakey or New Agey or possibly just Barking Mad.  But I'd rather you'd think of me as Aunt Clara from the sixties sit-com, 'Bewitched'. She was the Old Doddery Dame who kept on screwing up all her spells & forgetting what century she was in. 

I now realise that this is the second time almost in a row that I've referred to a TV show from my childhood. It doesn't take too many brains to work out what I did to fill in time when I was a kid. 

My parents weren't told about TV ruining children. Or maybe they chose not to listen. So I was given carte blanche to sit in front of it all day & night until bedtime. We ate all our meals in front of it, balancing plates & cutlery on little occasional tables & not talking. It was an Absolute Godsend. 

Anyway, from now on, I'm going to make a point of referencing an Ancient TV Show in every blog entry or two. That will Spice Things Up, won't it?

Back to  Signs from the Universe. You may recall that I'm going to have another Art Show in the next few months. I'm a Collagist which is not someone who gives people Collagen Injections. 

I apologise for my Lameness.

Anyway, Magazines & Old & not- so -Old Books are my Raw Materials. Over the years I've collected & then thrown away thousands & thousands of images, but I'm always Greedy for More. Aren't we all?

And with my New Abundant Frugality, I'm no longer at liberty to stroll into the local Newsagent & buy up the joint. 

So, what's an artist to do but to go through the Recycling Bins in my apartment building & see what Hidden Treasures are waiting for me to unearth. 

One night last week, I decided to Visit the Bins quite late. I opened up one , stuck my hand in & yanked out a hugely fat 1982 Italian 'Donna' magazine - all aeronautically engineered shoulder pads & spikey hair. I then began furiously burrowing down into the Bowels of the Bin where a whole Treasure Trove of Vogues, both Oldish & Newish  were nestled. I had to go & get my Old Lady's Shopping Trolley to transport them all up to my apartment on the eighth floor. 

There must have been hundreds of magazines, all in Italian. In case you're wondering, I don't speak Italian. I have never had any desire to speak another language apart from English & am greatly relieved that it has become the Universal Language. 

But Italian 'Vogue' has by far the most creative & edgy pictures of any other fashion magazine in the world. So I don't give a toss that I can't read any of the words. Just give me the pictures.

When I told Peter from my local cafe,'Zinc' about my find, he said that the only magazines in his apartment building's recycling bins were Gay Porn. Thank God I don't live there.

Hope you can see how I saw this as a Sign from the Universe, because I  couldn't be bothered walking you through why it is.

Now every time I get into the lift  or walk into my building, I take a good look at the other residents & try to work out who on earth would have been hoarding a lifetime's supply of Italian Fashion Magazines in their apartment. None of the people I've seen so far look like Likely Candidates. And none of the residents that I actually know seem likely as well. 

The only person I can think of is this tiny, doll-like reasonably famous news anchor who is a well-known Fashionista & has impossibly edgy clothes made for her by Cutting Edge Designers. But she's Chinese. But maybe she speaks Italian. After all, she does work for the Multicultural Broadcaster.

Anyway, I've been working my way through the mags . And here's a little tentative unfinished example of what I've been doing.