What Does Melancholy Means to Me as an Artist?
Reflections on Memory, Art, and Collage
Have you ever felt that time stands still when you remember something? I believe it’s melancholy that allows us to pause and try to understand what’s happening around us and, in turn, within us. It’s a state of appreciation in which we process the value of things and what they mean to us. Only in calm and silence can we hear the echo of life—the story behind every object, every creation.
My art is born from that feeling, from the fragments of melancholy I collect in my everyday life. Just like memories, they don’t always arrive in a neat sequence; instead, they come scattered and slowly form an amalgam. I think life itself is like that—we’re all made up of pieces that don’t always fit together, but the art lies in how we manage to assemble them nonetheless. We each make a collage out of ourselves.
I see myself as a meloncollage. What name would you give yourself? What memories and emotions make up who you are?
In this space, I want to share a reinterpretation of the fragments that shape my life and creative process. Perhaps you’ll find a small piece of the past waiting for you in some corner of this memory collage.
3 Comments
Nostalfan
Would you say that melancholy necessarily involves sadness? If so, does that mean that your collages are imbued with that sadness?
I’d say I’m more of a nostalfan. Always living attacked by these echoes of the past, reminiscing about what was, touched up by the unreliable narrator that is memory; but also invaded by the unreal reflections of what could have been but never materialized due to fear, uncertainty or just decisions made. I’m a fan of the past which my mind always paints as cozy and safe, where happiness was attainable.
Seele
I wouldn’t say my collages are imbued with sadness per se, but they definitely carry traces of longing and imagined versions of the past. They’re like emotional time capsules—fragments of things that were, things I wish had been, and things I’m still trying to understand. The way you describe memory as an unreliable narrator is so true, and it resonates deeply with me. I think that’s part of why my collages feel so nostalgic—they’re not just about what happened, but about the way I wish it had been, or the way I remember it now, softened by time and memory. There’s a beauty in that, anyways.
Nostalfan
There’s definitely beauty in our framing of the past. Thanks for the reply and I keep looking forward to appreciating your art and reading your posts. Keep it up!