Letting Go …
… of all the fucks I used to give (2024)
Earlier in the year, I wrote about a collaborative project aimed at release that I was preparing for World Collage Day. It evolved a bit, and now that the day has passed, it’s time to provide an update!
First, a look at the wonderful contributions from collagists across the country—and a hearty thank you to the folks who participated, for sharing in the challenges and the beauty that they can bear. The participating artists were Hope Amico and her students, Wendy French Barrett (@plathhack), Kay Wolverton Ito (@kayzzdaze), Katie Price (@savvyaction), and Cherie Savoie Tintary (@kitschy_collagist); naturally, I also made some to spread around. Each custom piece was packaged in a slim envelope printed with the words “Gone but not forgotten,” and the art was accompanied by this text:
The world is just too much sometimes—I’m running out of fucks to give. This sentiment inspired a group of collage artists in a World Collage Day project aimed at physically releasing what they can no longer carry. In the detritus of the collage piñata’s ephemera, you may find one of these artful little “fucks,” packaged in a kraft envelope. It’s your lucky day! Hold onto the art, or show a friend you give a fuck about them with a silly pick-me-up you pass along.
The spirit remained the same: channel the things we need to let go of into artful objects to be released, transmuting your annoyance or agita into a delightful custom art piece for someone to hold until they, too, are ready to let it go. But the delivery system transformed—rather than a street art performance, I brought the idea together with another project centered around radical joy.
On World Collage Day, I hosted a workshop at Slip Gallery in Belltown, part of the monthlong Collage-O-Rama exhibit put on by the Special Agent Collage Collective. In that workshop, we busted open two custom art piñatas I created and filled with ephemera; participants took inspiration from the gallery space and channeled joy while making new work with the ephemera they found.
Mixed in with that ephemera? Treasures to take home—those perfect little fucks. The childlike wonder at delight in encountering these surprises, sharing them with others in the room, and tucking them into a pocket, well … I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome. It was a day, and frankly a whole week, or working on letting go, of finding ways to hold space for the pain of life and its beauty—and I’m endlessly grateful to the artists who entrusted me as a bridge for this work. Just keep swinging, and may your joy ever be a radical act!
