The Art of Collage, with Loeries #1 Ranked Lecturer Steph Simpson

We spoke to Steph Simpson, Illustration lecturer for the BA Visual Communication, about his first love in art — collage. Steph teaches both 1st and 3rd year students, while also creating under the playful name Me and Norman. Norman, his imaginary friend, is mischievous, silly, and always ready to stir up creativity. 

His philosophy? “Play until something happens.” 

For Steph, collage represents freedom, narrative, and a dance between order and chance. It is not merely a technique but a mindset. It embraces imperfection, trusts fragments, and allows intuition to lead. In a culture obsessed with speed and polish, collage reminds us that creativity can be messy, slow, and profoundly human. 

Why Collage? 

“Collage lets me play while I craft. It’s not about speed or perfection — it’s about telling stories through fragments,” Steph explains. 

Collage democratises art. You don’t need costly materials or years of training — scraps of paper, scissors, and glue are enough. It’s accessible, playful, and endlessly adaptable. For Steph, that accessibility is part of its magic: anyone can tell a story through collage. 

It also transforms the ordinary into something extraordinary. A discarded magazine page or a forgotten flyer can become the foundation of a powerful narrative. Collage teaches us that beauty can emerge from overlooked fragments, and storytelling doesn’t require pristine canvases or polished technique. 

A Little History 

Collage has roots in Dadaism, born in the early 1900s as artists responded to the devastation of World War I. Dadaists embraced absurdity, questioned tradition, and found beauty in randomness. 

One of the most influential figures was Max Ernst. Returning from war, Ernst experimented with assemblage techniques, cutting and rearranging engravings to create surreal new worlds. His collages were paradoxical — serene yet destructive, absurd yet believable. 

Looking at one of Ernst’s collages as an example, he agitates a mundane composition of washerwomen at work by adding the writhing figures of Titans in combat, as seen in La Femme 100 têtes captioned: “Every Friday titans whizz zig-zag through our laundries.” Another striking case appears in Drumroll among the stones from the same collage novel, where Ernst pastes a calm gentleman strolling in a top hat into a chaotic street scene. These juxtapositions — dramatic versus nonchalant — create paradoxical tension. 

Critics noted this duality. Paul Karmel described the balance between “serenity and destruction,” while E.L.T. Mesens observed that Ernst “plunges us into the drama by making elements of our known world confront each other in an irritating manner, thus violating the accepted canons of thought, logic and morality.” 

Over time, collage shaped movements from Surrealism to Pop Art. Artists like Hannah Höch and Richard Hamilton used collage to challenge norms and remix culture. 

Steph sees himself as part of this lineage. By teaching collage, he connects students to a tradition of experimentation, rebellion, and creative play — showing them that fragments can become powerful stories. 

Steph's Three Steps to Collage Art 

1. Collect 

Gather imagery that excites you. Ernst loved scientific journals; Steph hunts for old encyclopedias in thrift stores. Limiting choices can sharpen focus — perhaps only black-and-white images, or a single theme. 

2. Collate 

Organise your cut-outs. Steph uses a concertina file, grouping by theme. This keeps the logical side of the brain busy while freeing the creative side to play. As Betty Edwards writes in Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, this cognitive shift creates a “marvellous state of being… highly focused, wordless, timeless, and restorative.” 

3. Curate 

Now comes the magic. Place pieces together until they spark a new reality. Juxtapose calm with chaos, destruction with serenity. Add text sparingly, leaving space for interpretation. Sometimes Steph imposes playful systems — cutting only from certain chapters or selecting random page numbers. 

Collage is paradox. A single image can hold multiple realities, yet read as one. That tension — between serenity and destruction, absurdity and logic — is what makes collage powerful. 

 Collage Today 

Collage has evolved. Artists now remix fragments digitally using Photoshop, Procreate, and even AI tools. Yet the essence remains the same: fragments, juxtaposition, and play. 

Steph still prefers scissors and glue, but he acknowledges that digital collage opens new possibilities. “Whether analogue or digital, it’s about storytelling,” he says. “The medium changes, but the spirit of play stays the same.” 

Digital collage allows artists to layer hundreds of images, manipulate scale, and experiment with surreal juxtapositions that would be impossible with paper alone. Yet Steph insists that the tactile act of cutting and pasting has its own irreplaceable magic — the sound of scissors slicing, the texture of paper, the unpredictability of glue. 

Final Thoughts 

Collage is storytelling through fragments. It’s paradox, play, and persistence. As Austin Kleon says in Steal Like an Artist: “Quit picking fights and go make something.” 

Steph’s advice? Sit down, gather your scraps, and let your hands lead the way. Trust chance, embrace imperfection, and remember Norman’s mantra: Play until something happens. 

Collage is not just an art form — it’s a philosophy of life. It teaches us to embrace imperfection, to trust chance, and to find meaning in fragments. In a culture that prizes speed and polish, collage reminds us that creativity can be messy, slow, and deeply human.