What Happens in the Middle of Making: Inside My Cyanotype Collage Process
A behind-the-scenes look at how I work through a piece, and why staying curious is the whole job
Cyanotype portrait in motion collage
There is a moment in making art that nobody talks about. You are partway through something. You can see where you started, but you cannot quite see where you are going. The piece in front of you feels stuck, or flat, or like it is saying something, just not the thing you actually meant.
I have been there more times than I can count. Last weekend at the Revelry 33 art opening, those conversations came rushing back to me. People kept asking how I made the cyanotype collage pieces on the wall. And trying to explain it out loud reminded me how layered and responsive this kind of work really is, and how much I love talking about it with people who are genuinely curious.
If you have ever wondered what goes into making a piece of alternative process art, or if you are a maker yourself trying to understand why the middle of a project feels so uncomfortable, this is for you.
Why the Art Process Feels Mysterious, Even to the Artist
Art is personal from the first idea to the final framed print. What I find fascinating, and honestly a little humbling, is that even as the artist making the work, the process can feel mysterious to me too.
I might start a piece with a clear vision. A specific image in mind, a particular feeling I want to land. But the moment I begin working, something shifts. I am responding to the materials, to instinct, to small decisions that pull the piece in a direction I did not plan for. That is not a failure of the process. That is the process.
What changed everything for me was shifting from pushing through to getting curious. When I start asking questions about a piece I am working on, the work opens up.
What happens if I cut this apart? What if I tear it? What if I draw on it, make marks, add paint?
Suddenly I am excited again. Each draft becomes something worth exploring rather than something to get right on the first try. The messy middle is not a detour. It is the path.
How I Actually Make a Cyanotype Collage
The cyanotype collages I am currently making require patience and intention at every stage. Here is a loose look at how I work through them.
Starting with the substrate. I begin by coating the paper or other surfaces I plan to work on. Each substrate responds differently, which already introduces variation before anything is printed. That unpredictability is something I lean into rather than resist.
Figuring out the layers. I experiment with mockups to decide what I want to print on each layer. What happens when I layer cut silhouettes together? What happens when a botanical layer sits over text? These are real questions I ask at the table, not rhetorical ones.
Letting it develop and respond. Some pieces require time to tone after printing. That waiting, that slow development, is part of making the work. The symbols and metaphors in these pieces are intentional, but how they read to a viewer adds yet another layer I cannot fully control, and that is one of my favorite things about the work.
Destroying a copy just to see. Sometimes I will work on a copy of a piece specifically to take it apart, tear it, reassemble it. Not every experiment survives. But almost every one teaches me something.
The pieces I am most proud of did not arrive fully formed. They went through a messy middle where I was not sure what I had, and then one decision cracked them open.
What This Means If You Are a Maker Too
Making time for the work is not just about showing up at the table. It is about staying in an ongoing conversation with what you are making, with the ideas and themes you are exploring, with the materials themselves.
That conversation requires curiosity and a willingness to not know yet. To try new mediums. To work in ways that feel uncomfortable. To give yourself permission to sit in the middle longer than feels safe.
Some of the critiques I have received over the years used to feel discouraging. Work that was too literal. A piece that was not hitting the emotional note I was reaching for. What shifted those moments from deflating to generative was learning to treat them as questions, not conclusions.
If you are in the middle of something right now and it feels stuck, that is often not a sign that something is wrong. It is a sign you are close to something real.
Come See the Work and Keep the Conversation Going
If you are curious about how these pieces are made, or what the symbols and layers in them mean, I love talking about it. The conversation at Revelry 33 reminded me how much I enjoy sharing process with people who are genuinely interested.
The best way to stay connected to what I am making, what shows I am part of, and when new work is available is to join my email list. I share process notes, upcoming exhibitions, and what I am working through, without the noise of social media.
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The messy middle is where I do my best work. I hope reading this gives you permission to stay in yours a little longer.
Nikki Gardner is a fine art photographer and cyanotype artist based in Northampton, MA. In this post, she walks through her cyanotype collage process, including how she coats substrates, experiments with layered botanicals and cut silhouettes, and uses intentional destruction as a creative tool. She reflects on why the uncertain middle of making is often the most important part of the process, for her and for other makers.
