a drawing a day

The second week. On my mind- Turkey, my new old truck, birds, and pond-leaping frogs. Left-handed observation exercises made way for more introspective pencil renderings. Still enchanted by Ottoman patterns. 

a drawing a day

I find myself going without drawing for too long when freelance work leans towards theater, but drawing is the foundation for everything I do. So might as well take a daily dose of it like a vitamin. 5-10 minutes for these for now-- no need for pressure, and speed forces a giving up of preciousness (which I could also use some practice in). 

The first week was thoughts from Istanbul in December, mostly done with my non-dominant left hand to bring back the good old days. 

Vague memories of patterns from the infinite patterned tiles of the Topkapi Harem.

Organized birds, stumpy trees.

I'm in love with the Hagia Sophia.

Patterns everywhere.

Cold.

The Blue Mosque.

The 700 year old or so seraphim in the dome of the Hagia, recently uncovered. 

(and my new old Frye boots my mum finally let me have!)

mermaid tales

That was quite a gap in the blog! This year has been so full I forgot about posting for half of it. Best thing I can think to begin again with is this:

Way back in March The Mermaid Statue was invited to the birthday party of a super young lady named Stevie, who, I think it's safe to say, is the #1 Mermaid Statue fan in the world. We first met when she came to see Luna's Sea in Mystic in 2011. She came back to see it several times, and traveled to NYC where we played at the American Museum of Natural History. The cast and myself were so honored for her to have come all that way with her wonderful family. So the Mermaid couldn't pass this birthday invitation up.

I made this cardboard Mermaid for her, with articulated tail. The kind of thing I'm always wanting to make but never have a reasonable excuse to do. It was a lot of fun, and even better having the Mermaid give it to her when she made a surprise appearance at the party.

And best of all.. this.

And some new acquaintances, with the regular variety of expressions the Mermaid gets on first sight.

Which, in short time turns into this.

It's the first incident I can recall where the Mermaid cracked a tear. This is a really special family. Thank you, Laurie, for the ocean of love you invited the Mermaid into, and for these photos. 

how to make a statue

Step 1. Become a blank slate.

Step 2. Find junk in your house and put it on.

Step 3. Paint everything grey.

Voila!

flea circus

When life gives you fleas, you can freak out, or you can make a flea circus.

This humid hot weather that hasn't let up in weeks caused an outbreak in my house. Immediately I went to the first option. When the flea drops, baths and vacuuming didn't seem to be working, I began pathologically testing extermination methods on fleas I caught in jars. Then, they became interesting. And I started doing research. And I came upon flea circuses. Which are amazing. Which of course I had to try.

It is delicate and tricky work. Fleas must be caught and collared with thin wire, just snug enough to not harm or impede them, not loose enough to allow them to escape. I had a lot of mishaps trying to get this just right.

The few that came out right deserved names. I was pretty invested in Boris, Caesar, Greg, and Genevieve.

Then I tried hitching them up to things.

This mini-cooper was too heavy so I tried just wheels. A chariot, in historical flea circus lingo.

That was a little easier. But I soon realized my small troupe was indeed dying off from the poison I'd been treating them with. And here came a strange turn of emotion- in less than a day I went from wishing cruel painful deaths upon all of them, to (sort of) not wanting them to die at all.

I hurriedly tried some other acts I'd read about, including ball rolling and tight rope walking.

But my fleas were clearly weak. 

I tried to keep them in jars,

but alas, everyone died.

I am grateful that my house and animals are much more comfortable. And for the reminder that relentless curiosity can turn even the most intense hatred and loathing into compassion and appreciation. 

Anybody got any fleas?

we are all islands

As we speed east along the chain, each occasional island looks perfectly inlaid into the blue enamel of the sea below, like a piece in a sacred mosaic. Yet each seems to float. It's hard to fully comprehend that these are just the tips of an enormous mountain range, grown from a seafloor thousands of feet below. Anne Morrow Lindbergh responded to the idea that no one is an island by saying, "I feel we are all islands- in a common sea." That is an appealing refinement of the idea, but there is something else deeper. Perhaps we only seem like islands because all our shared underpinnings, which have brought us up and hold us into the sunlight, lie unseen below the surface. Now and then we think we might detect submerged connections by a whiff of something familiar, by an upwelling of memory or empathy or the urge to show kindness to another creature, like a visible pattern of ripples at the surface caused by something lying far below. The rock-hard ties to all these other islands-- human and nonhuman, current and past-- lie out of sight, deep in time, massively holding together all our fragile little islands, yet barely recognized and seldom acknowledged. What a different view of life we would have if we mapped our islands not by their perimeter as seen from the surface, but by their profile and foundation, showing always the roots and connections within the shared mountain chain. Could we not recognize ourselves as part of the same chain of life, originated from the same hot spot? Are we not little kindred isles adrift a sea of time, on a conveyor of space? We are born. We have our adventures. And we are sucked back in, to be reintegrated, recast in the continuing saga of our singular island home afloat the oceanic universe. 

-Carl Safina, Eye of the Albatross

the best roller coaster ever!

The spring is always a tricky time, to transition from steady academic jobs into scrapping for summer seasonal work. There's financial worry and scheduling fiascos here, but also excitement in all the possibilities, all the places I might go, all the people I might meet.

This year there's more uncertainty, the worries feeling lower, the possibilities feeling higher. When people ask how's it going, I teeter on saying either: it's terrible! or, it's wonderful! And so I've said instead: it's a roller coaster. That image makes me feel even more stressed out.

But this weekend within the first few minutes of meeting a five year old named Felix, he burst out with an exuberant description of his vision of "the best roller coaster ever" which involved rubber snakes, a car wash, an angry tiger, a mud pit, going upside-down, and going as high as space. This seemed important so I drew it out with him. It expanded to travel through several pages of my sketchbook, along with many modes of transportation for exotic animals which seemed to be the theme of the evening.

I've looked at it every day when I sit to sketch, and it makes me think- Oh right, roller coasters are fun! And the more extreme ups and downs, the more surprises they have, the better. I forgot!

So I'm keeping my eye on this sketch, and applying this philosophy of joy and excitement to my daily up and down life. Hands up! Scream hard! Enjoy the rubber snakes!

people of the spirit-in-the-hands

The last of the three-part puppet appeal is a little short, as I've had the great fortune to have to switch from appeal-ing to thank-ing sooner than I thought. And so many more thanks to send than anticipated, too! Luckily I have a prolific amount of cards and posters from years of illustrating for Peaceable Kingdom Press.

If you didn't hear, I met my tuition fundraising goal in 19 hours. On Monday I was able to pay the balance to the Eugene O'Neill, and am officially on my way to the National Puppetry Conference on June 5th. I have no idea what will happen there, but it is certainly meant to be. I'm looking forward to sharing it all with you here. 

I also discovered today that I am a more diligent worker in my studio when I wear a kitchen apron. Not sure what that's about, but I'll go with it.

PUPPET APPEAL, PART 3

PEOPLE OF THE SPIRIT-IN-THE-HANDS

(From the "Intended Contribution & Achievement" portion of the NPC application:)

After bumbling along mostly alone for years, grateful for the luck and coincidences that have unexpectedly brought me puppet opportunities, I am more than ready to find first-rate training, and the camaraderie of other People of the Spirit-in-the-Hands. My greatest wish for an experience with the National Puppetry Conference is to become more courageous, more knowledgeable, more subtle, more confident, and more connected to the puppet community and my own creativity. The prospect of working with such experienced and genius puppeteers is thrilling and humbling. I have a little experience, I have a little know-how, but mostly what I have to offer is an open heart and an open mind just itching to expand. 

I had lots more to add to this about why supporting me in this endeavor would be helping projects of the future, by showing you previous experiences and spectacles I've brought to the community. But, it seems like you already knew that. 

THANK YOU, AGAIN AND AGAIN!!

the mask of the moon

Last week the impossible happened: I was accepted into the Eugene O'Neill National Puppetry Conference, a dream I've had for 17 years. 

This week the impossible happened again: in less than 24 hours friends and strangers from all over the country (and world!) donated to my tuition fundraising campaign, making it possible for me to go. And, blowing my mind even more, in another half day they exceeded my goal, allowing me to pay for all the other associated expenses. 

Last week, I was pretty sure I would not get to the O'Neill. I had a short deadline and three days of blog post material to appeal for donations to my cause. I knew I had generous friends, but to the degree and speed with which they were ready to help.... I still can't get over it. 

I now have the most wonderful work ahead- putting together thank you gifts and love letters. And I'm going to continue with the Puppet Appeal blog posts as planned, so these incredible supporters can know what they are a part of.

Thank you to EVERYONE who donated, shared, linked, tweeted, cheered. Everyone's gracious help, small and large, is equally and immensely appreciated. Every moment of my being at the O'Neill this June is going to mean so much more, knowing how much you wanted me to be there. 

With all my love and gratitude for years to come: thank you, thank you, thank you. 

PUPPET APPEAL, PART 2:

THE MASK OF THE MOON

(From the "Mini-Manifesto" portion of the NPC application:)

When I am not puppeteering or making, my hands feel empty and ache with asking to hold. For some, the spirit lives in the mind, and this age of disembodied words and digital signals satisfies them. For others like myself, the spirit lives in the hands, and it is through the tangible that the world is understood and navigated. I puppeteer to keep that way of being and learning, for myself and those to come, though I haven’t always been aware that’s what I was doing.

Last May at the American Museum of Natural History, exhausted by long rehearsals, anxious if I’d prepared my young performers enough, wondering if I deserved to be there, I stepped out of the chaos of the last tech of my show Luna's Sea and into the Hall of Northwest Coast Indians-- dark, empty, and silent in the hours after closing. Alone in dim light with those ancient objects, from a wall full of strange faces one face in particular stared at me with inquisitive humor, much like the Moon puppet I had made for the head dancer of my oceanic show. Trepidatiously approaching through a thick air of something very old and alive I wasn't sure was welcoming or warning, I saw it was labeled: Shaman’s Mask of the Moon, and it said this:

These masks were worn by shamans when they danced in various rites. A shaman is a person who can control and use supernatural powers. The shaman had a special mask for each of his spirits which he used when appealing to that spirit. There were many occasions for ceremonies, among them births, funerals, and memorials. Tlingit shamans cured the sick, brought good weather, and caused large runs of fish.

In that moment I understood that what we were doing was more than a show, that it was part of thousands of years of an ongoing human activity, and that puppetry kept resurfacing in my life because of my corresponding need for visual art, movement, and ritual combined.

I had experimented with all kinds of art forms that I succeeded in. I had tried all kinds of athletics that thrilled me. I had sought all kinds of spiritual practices that I felt fulfilled by. But only in the meeting of object, physical exertion, and precise intention is where I experience a deep artistic, embodied, sacred satisfaction that feels like it expands beyond my self. 

Only through puppetry have I seen my work stir others the way I have been stirred by grand unseen things. It took me a long time to understand that consciously, and understand that puppets are a major force and source of my life.

My day jobs have been in traditional theater, but it has never felt for me as right and true as puppet theater. Perhaps because I was raised with puppets and the sense that life is in all inanimate objects. But I think it's that a character created by an actor, no matter how transformed, is still linked to that actor. 

While an object, made with care and moved with intention, has a chance to connect to something beyond the personal, to characters beyond human, to the vast space of myth and collective dreams, to the audience’s own souls. 

And it can be done in the smallest and humblest of places, making it accessible to everyone. This is so extraordinary!

Despite all the struggle and worry, Luna's Sea played at the AMNH for four shows last May to great audience response and reviews. It ended too quickly! The amazing and fiercely dedicated cast and crew dispersed, the puppets and set were packed into a neat space in my basement. There are discussions with local theater companies about re-launching it as a community theater show, and as another smaller professional show for another science museum, including a possible sequel. It might take some time, but it feels like there is more in store for Luna and the Moon. It's my hope that the Puppetry Conference is going to help me figure that out, among many other things. But, I'll save that for part 3!