Every work of art I create feels like part of a larger path—one that winds through memory, family, discovery, and creativity. Sometimes that path leads forward into new ideas, and sometimes it leads backward into moments from long ago. My assemblage piece “A Duck, a Paintbrush, and Some Scissors” is one of those moments where the past and present meet, reminding me that every object carries its own history. In many ways, this piece reflects the journey of objects—how ordinary things move through time and eventually find their way into art.
At the center of the work is an antique yellow wooden frame holding three vintage building blocks that spell “Pop.” Growing up, I used that word interchangeably with “Dad.” The blocks immediately bring me back to childhood—simple moments filled with family, laughter, and a sense of belonging. What once lived in a child’s toy box now lives inside a work of art. That transformation is part of the journey of objects, where everyday items gather meaning as they pass through different hands and different stages of life.
Sticking out of the top of the frame is an old paintbrush, symbolizing my connection to the creative process. The paintbrush represents the path that eventually became my own—the road that led me into painting, collage, and assemblage. Nestled in the center of the piece is a vintage ceramic duck, a playful element that carries a special memory for me. My mother and I shared a love of finding forgotten treasures, the kind of “junk” that others might overlook but that we saw as full of possibility. Discovering just the right object for just the right purpose was always part of the adventure.
Hanging from the yellow frame is a pair of vintage scissors. I added eyes to them, bringing them to life with a whimsical touch. This playful detail invites viewers to reconnect with the tactile world of everyday objects—the feel of metal scissors in your hand, the snip of paper being cut, the sounds and textures that once filled our daily lives. These objects remind us that art can come from anywhere, especially when we begin to notice the journey of objects around us.
My own journey with these objects began when I was a child. My mom and I used to go “hunting” together for treasures. Our favorite place was a little hole-in-the-wall antique store called Mark’s, packed with things waiting to be rediscovered. We would dig through piles of forgotten items, imagining what they once were and what they might become. Those outings shaped the way I see the world today.
I still love that hunt.
Garage sales, estate sales, flea markets, thrift stores—I rarely pass them by. Each one feels like a continuation of the same adventure I began years ago with my mom. Recently, a friend and I spent nearly three hours wandering through an antique store. We left with only fifteen dollars’ worth of objects, but the real treasure was the experience itself—the stories we shared, the memories sparked by the things we held in our hands.
For me, assemblage art is about honoring those moments. It is about taking fragments of the past and allowing them to speak again in the present. When I gather these pieces together, they become more than objects—they become a story, a memory, even a small shrine to the joy of creating.
And in the end, that is what this work celebrates: the journey of objects and the way those journeys intersect with our own.
