How a Paper Artwork Is Born: a small story from my studio
Photo by Hatsue
Hey hey paper lovers!
Every collage in my studio begins the same way: with some sort of plan that appears somewhere between my morning coffee, a sketch I will-of course-redo again, and a dramatic sigh from my dog (Archie is always present, even when he pretends he has nothing to do with any of this). Sometimes the idea comes right away.
Sometimes it pretends it doesn’t exist, and then suddenly drops into my head at the most inconvenient moment, right when I’m about to give up on it. That’s the truest beginning of any artwork I create.
1) From a notebook to iPad - the practical magic:
This is where every collage begins - with quiet sketches in my notebook before they travel into Procreate. The early lines are loose, imperfect, and free - just enough to feel the rhythm of the future artwork.
From here, things get a little more technical. I photograph the sketch and move it into Procreate. At this stage I’m already thinking like an architect: which layer will sit on top, which one hides in the shadow, where I need a crisp line, and where a “human hand” should stay visible.
You should see the folders on my iPad - sometimes it feels like they’re not working files at all, but an endless chaos of a paper civilization. Choosing colors takes time. Sometimes way too much time. Sometimes I go back to yesterday’s palette and tell myself: “Veronika, you were right yesterday. Today… not so much.” =) And that’s okay.
2) Cutting - it is my favorite kind of meditation (with a little chaos):
This is the part that reminds me why I fell in love with paper in the first place. Some details I cut by hand — otherwise they lose character.
Others go through the Silhouette, because I love clean edges and the precision of modern tools. I really believe that the art of today is this thoughtful blend of hands and technology. Not the romantic “I do everything without machines,” but choosing whatever is best for the illustration itself. By this point, a polite little storm of colorful scraps has already formed around me. Every time I promise myself, “Today there will be less mess.”
It never works. Archie watches me like he’s monitoring national secrets ;))
3) Layering - the moment the paper starts to breathe:
Layering is the quietest stage. I place one layer over another, listening to how the depth changes, how the shadows appear, how the character begins to “breathe.” Sometimes the layers fall into place effortlessly. Sometimes they need to be shifted, trimmed, or recolored. Millimeters decide everything. This is always the tiny moment of magic: when random cutouts turn into a story.
Paper is honest - it shows exactly what works and what doesn’t. I just follow along.
4) Finishing touches - the soft “yes” moment:
When the piece is almost ready, only small movements remain: smoothing a corner, trimming an edge, adding a detail only someone who loves looking closely will ever notice. There’s one moment - very quiet - when I look at the collage and feel: That is it. It breathes. It is done.
Not a loud “ta-da!”, but a gentle, calm “yes.” This moment always makes me 😊 (smiling).
Why handmade still matters?!
Handmade work isn’t about perfection.
It is about time spent with the material.
About thoughts that turn into shapes.
About gestures that can’t be replicated mechanically.
About the kind of energy people feel when they hold the piece in their hands.
Every collage holds a small journey inside it: layer by layer, breath by breath.
And when it travels to its new home, I know it carries a tiny story of my table, my morning, my intuition, and my scissors along with it.
Want to see more?
I update my gallery regularly - you can explore originals and prints here. Somewhere among them may be someone’s next favorite artwork.
- Hand-cut and heart-made, Veronika
