About Sara

“Arrange whatever pieces come your way.” - Virginia Woolf

my process

As an assemblage artist, I pretty much take Woolf’s words as the First Commandment of my work. Arranging harmonious little worlds out of the random bits of flotsam and jetsam that float through everyday life is, for me, a process so deeply satisfying and joyful that I’ve been hooked on it for nearly twenty years.

Two distinct sides of me are in conversation in the process of creating my art: The bookworm-self who is happiest when immersed in worlds of stories, words and ideas; and the crow-self who is drawn to shiny objects, bright colors, and intriguing textures.

My shrines and boxes sometimes begin with a central object, but most often begin with the words – a quote, poem fragment, lyric, or found snippets of text. Once I find some words to spark a direction, my crow-self begins sifting through my random assortment of papers, objects, and ephemera to see what bits and pieces might best bring to life the feelings and imagery the words inspire in me.

I work slowly, gathering a bunch of possible elements, auditioning them, taking away the stuff that doesn’t quite work, adding layers, exploring possibilities, etc. This mixed-media cha-cha: putting things in place, taking them away, putting them back, taking them away is a dance that can go on for many days!

Art-making, for me, is not so much as a “thing I do” but as a “place I go.” It is a place where the leftover scraps from one project magically become the seeds of the next; where cast-off objects are elevated, re-imagined and invited into new conversations; and where order, harmony and meaning are married to invention, exploration, and good old-fashioned fooling around.

No two boxes are remotely the same, though each piece seeks to suggest a mysterious narrative or evoke a poetic experience for the viewer, often expressing themes of identity, nurturance, freedom, and creativity. I hope the little worlds that emerge from my visits to this “otherworld” become places of inspiration, amusement, reflection, or delight for you, too.

where to see my work

My work is represented by The Rob Schouten Gallery in Langley, WA.

Most years, I also show my assemblages at my studio, Blueschool Arts, during the Whidbey Working Artist’s Annual Open Studio Tour in August. (NOTE: I will not be on the studio tour in 2021). See Events for upcoming show dates and venues. To visit me in my studio, email salteecreative@gmail.com

the Saltee Academy for Complex Creators

The Saltee Academy for Complex Creators will be launching online in 2021. I offer online courses and coaching groups to help people claim their full constellation of creativities, honor their commitments to creative practice, and accomplish the work of their hearts. Visit www.salteeacademy.com to learn more.

The Assemblage Artist’s Guide to Life

Of course you have more than will ever, ever fit.
Don’t panic!
Chaos is the condition of your play.

Get to know the shape of your foundation.
Is it sturdy?
Is it willing? 

Now comes the special courage of ugliness,
The first layer is (crucial and) invisible, so be brave.
Patina depends on hideous underlayers.

Gently now, begin to choose:  sort, layer, test, reject.  Tear, rummage, place, squint.
See what sticks.
For God’s sake, take your time.

Practice again the stilling of your useless thinking
Be a safe cracker, listening with your toes for the click.
Be a lepidopterist, studying the wispy snips of knowing as they flutter by.

Ponder the alchemy of exquisite combination:
What element turns aimless flotsam to artful prayer?
How does the sushi grass fit in?

Blur your eyes to see the button as the sun,
Monopoly thimble as offering bowl.
Embrace the startling fluidity of the identity of things.

Remind the button and thimble they are not alone,
This is an art of relationship. 
In right company, the mutest bits sometimes speak anew.

It really helps to put some light in. 
A touch of gold, a mirror, some sequins. 
There is no shame in sparkle.

In the end, you will fix it all in place.
A necessary violence to assert a final resting place
You must learn to take a stand.

After all, this impulse is wanting to be something,
not everything.
You can flirt with all possibilities and still, finally, commit.  

Your gluing-down becomes a time of letting go
Each fluid element, once affixed, becomes solid again
This is the ebb of your flow.

And when this one is over and signed and hung,
It might be pleasing, or maybe it won’t.
Now’s the time to remember that the art is not the thing but the being.

Already the next threshold is rising to greet you.

Sara Saltee
June, 2009