Alex Eckman
Lawn

ISSUE NO. 97
May 7, 2025
May 7, 2025
Alex Eckman
Lawn
Antiquity, 2018
Cut paper collage, 8 x 10 in.

Alex Eckman Lawn

In the work of Alex Eckman Lawn, the act of collage becomes a metaphysical excavation. His compositions pierce through skin and stone, revealing inner chambers where architecture and anatomy collapse into one another. Through this layered dissection, Alex invites us to consider what remains hidden within and what beauty might emerge when we allow it to be seen.


In the Words of the Artist

Dead Flower, 2024
Cut paper collage, 5 x 7 in.

I spend a lot of time collecting images, poring over old books, filling folder after folder with imagery that makes me feel something, so I always have a wealth of choices to pull from. My process starts in Photoshop most of the time, moving things around, adjusting colors, piling things together, and then once I get things to a point where I’m comfortable, I get it ready to print. I then hand-cut and layer the images to create this 3-dimensional kind of cavernous feeling. The hand cutting and assembling part of the process allows me to reevaluate choices, change composition, and sometimes redo entire sections if I want.

I think of collage as a chance to build my own Frankenstein out of the things and experiences I've collected and recontextualize what’s important or painful for me. It’s pure composition, a constant series of decisions and adjustments, which is satisfying for my weird little brain. It’s a way to make something my own that might have previously felt out of my reach - whether that’s organizing chaos into serene compositions, feeling in control of what's inside of a body, or making architectural nightmares out of my favorite buildings.

Their Voice, 2022
Cut paper collage, 12 x 12 in.

I tend towards anatomical imagery as a way to confront my fears about the body’s inner processes. The powerlessness in regards to the stack of meat that I'm trapped inside, as well as the American medical system that, in many ways, can impede healing or even understanding of one’s body, are core concepts to my work.  That said, I invite people to bring their own experience to the work. I know what it means to me, but I know that the work belongs to the viewer once it leaves my hands.

I tend to look for imagery that would support the 3-dimensional aspect of my process, but I try to be as open as I can. One of collage’s greatest qualities as a medium is the ability to make changes at every step, there’s a lot of freedom in that, I think. I try to leave space for inspiration to strike/change at multiple points of my process if I can. I always keep an eye out for images of buildings, partly because I’m just personally very drawn to them, especially old ornate architecture. I’m also always looking for a compelling portrait or a disgusting medical diagram.

I’m often trying to transform a body, something that can feel wild and gruesome, into a constructed space with order and beauty. I spend a lot of time teetering between the two things - trying to bend the gruesome into something lovely and controlled, or to overwhelm sturdy architecture with meat and viscera.

I use sculpture in my work for similar reasons- it feels like a kind of cruel, approximated perfection of the human form, at odds with reality, or my experience anyway. A perfect marble body in stark, timeless contrast.

New Flesh, 2021
Cut paper collage, 18 x 24 in.

New Flesh, 2021
Cut paper collage, 18 x 24 in.

I have very strong feelings about my work, and there have been certain pieces that are especially personal or specific (my last show, BODY, was about my childhood scoliosis surgery), but I know that the pieces can’t and won't mean the same thing to anyone else. Even my parents had different reactions than I expected to the work, and they were there for the whole ordeal!

Art is a way to connect with people, but it doesn’t have to be so 1 to 1 as delivering a single message. That’s the job of a carrier pigeon. The conversation is part of the excitement of making art.

With collage, the potential can feel almost limitless at times. Why not add more? Why not try another composition, another combination of elements? At some point, it needs to be finished, or it won’t ever be anything at all. I always tell myself, “I’ll get it right next time”, and move on.

Lamina Gate, 2024
Cut paper collage, 12 x 16 in.

The Stage, 2018
Cut paper collage, vellum, 8 x 10 in.

About the Artist

Alex Eckman-Lawn is an artist based in Philadelphia who holds a BFA in Illustration from the University of the Arts. His visual work spans comic books, album and book covers, music videos, T-shirts, and gig posters. Alongside his commercial projects, he is known for intricate, multi-layered paper collages—hand-cut constructions that incorporate both his original digital paintings and imagery drawn from vintage medical texts. Each layer is physically spaced to create a visceral sense of depth, inviting viewers into densely layered visual worlds.

His collages have been exhibited at venues including SCOPE Miami Beach, Art on Paper NY, Paradigm Gallery + Studio, Arch Enemy Arts, Mortal Machine Gallery, Outré Gallery, StolenSpace Gallery, Copro Gallery, Gallery 1988, Cotton Candy Machine, and Corey Helford Gallery. His work has also been featured in publications such as Hi-Fructose, Juxtapoz Magazine, and The Observer.

Website | Instagram

For Your Viewing Pleasure

How and where to engage with collage in the world around us.
What to watch, read, and experience, as curated by the Collé team.

BRIAN DETTMER is an American artist best known for his intricate sculptural works made from altered books. Using surgical tools, Dettmer carves into encyclopedias, dictionaries, and medical texts to reveal complex, layered compositions that transform the original content into new visual narratives. His work explores the materiality of knowledge and the shifting role of the book in the digital age.

THOMAS JOSEPH is a collage artist living in South Philadelphia. Trained in design at Drexel University’s Westphal College, his work emerges from a careful balance of structure and intuition—shaped as much by his architectural background as by the quiet rhythms of daily life.

FELICIA DADAK is a self-taught collage artist from Lee, Massachusetts. She studied English at UMass Amherst and spent much of her career in publishing. She began making art in her thirties, turning to collage during a challenging time as a way to process and rebuild.

MICHELLE L MILLER is a collage artist and community mental health art therapist with a deep love for vintage books. Her work is made entirely from her own found and created imagery, blending intuitive composition with therapeutic insight.

MADDIE MAY is a Chicago-based interdisciplinary artist whose work explores the emotional residue of Midwest working-class domestic life through textiles, sculpture, scent, and sound. Drawing from personal memory and a childhood marked by instability, May transforms everyday objects into charged vessels of grief, intimacy, and survival.

Out and About

How and where to engage with collage in the world around us.
What to watch, read, and experience, as curated by the Collé team.

READ

Gesammelte Werke: Band 10

The tenth volume of Dieter Rot’s collected works published by Hansjörg Mayer. This one reproducing the artists’ book ‘daily mirror,’ featuring a series of enlarged images from a newspaper originally published in 1961.

READ

NADA New York, May 7–11, 2025

The 11th edition will include 120 galleries, art spaces, and non-profit organizations spanning 19 countries and 50 cities such as Brussels, Shanghai, Berlin, Mexico City, Wroclaw, Belgrade, New York, and Philadelphia.

LISTEN

Moneyball by Dutch Interior

Listening to Moneyball feels like chain-smoking in your childhood bedroom while watching reruns of Antiques Roadshow on mute. Dutch Interior makes songs that are funny without being jokey, sad without being dramatic, just sort of perfect.