Valentine's Day

     On February 14th,  the journey to Phoenix was interrupted. The exhaust pipe of our work vehicle decided to stage a melodramatic Victorian death scene, thus crippling the vehicle and forcing us to layover in a mechanic's shop in Indianapolis for several hours. This particular mechanic's happened to be located  on one of the most dismal stretches of road in America. I realized shortly after the truck was raised onto the lift that the bag with all my books, notepads and laptop was nestled comfortably in the backseat. This meant that my options for entertainment were either taking a walk in the snow among the post industrial  wastelands or watching the guests of daytime talk shows weep and beat each other with chairs.
Still, not the worst Valentine's day I ever had.
I took a walk.

After trudging about a mile in the slush among dreary office buildings, payday lenders, decaying greasy spoons and retail auto parts stores in varying states of business failure, I decided that I was in desperate need of coffee. The only place that I saw where the coffee looked like it even might be palatable was a little cafe called Grady's next to the garage. I made my way back there and ordered a cup of what would turn out to be instant coffee. While I tried to doctor this unfortunate beverage into some semblance of palatablity, a woman about my age entered and ordered lunch. somehow I became involved in the process, along with a middle aged guy hanging out at a nearby table. She invited us to  keep her company as she ate. As neither of us had any pressing obligations, we accepted. The next hour of my life was spent in pleasant conversation with people who I never met before and it is highly unlikely I will ever see again. the conversation was not one of those great mind expanding exchanges of ideas or one that dramatically changes your perspective. I learned very little new or life altering information, aside from the fact that Grady's apparently makes an excellent tilapia sandwich. It was simply three people thrown together at random enjoying one another's company and passing the time of day. This commonplace occurrence reminded me of something so  important and obvious that it is sometimes easy to forget. I love Humanity.

     Lest those of you who know me think that I have suddenly become Pollyanna or at least less misanthropic and cynical, let me clarify. In my travels during my thirty six years on this planet, I believe I have formed a fairly accurate impression of the human animal. I have seen the best and worst of humanity, oftentimes in the same seat on the bus. We all go through life mostly confused, frightened, and very much the center of our ow gyroscope. Even the simplest among us is an indecipherable and hopelessly complex tangle of irrational impulses, incurable neuroses and illogical beliefs. We make very little sense, even to ourselves. The entire salvation and damnation of humanity lies in the simple fact that we are each of us doing the best we can.

     I believe every day each one of us wakes up meaning well and trying in simple small ways to make the world a better place. People are looking to find love,  provide for our families, or find meaningful work. We are bogged down by addictions, old scars, selfish impulses, indifference, fear, limited perspective, illness, an inability to change, bad ideas, and each other. This is just the everyday stuff. Yet we can overcome insurmountable odds and thrive in situations that should destroy us. out of our confused and self obsessed lives we are capable of  great clarity selflessness and beauty. It should not be so. It is a miracle that this can happen at all given the odds we have to overcome on an everyday basis. Yet, it happens hundreds of times everyday. Each day is a struggle against our own self and there is no guarantee we will win. Every single person on this planet is capable of great good and terrible evil and you never know from moment to moment what you'll encounter. Everyone is both the hero and villain of their own story.

      When I was young, I saw things on a grand simple scale.I worshiped Genius and Courage. good was good and evil was bad and the two opposite sides were clear and unmistakable. you were one or the other. I think we keep this fiction because it is so much easier to accept the idea that all the harm in the world comes from wicked creatures with glowing red eyes bent on destruction that it is to admit that we can do endless damage in the name of truth and justice. There are no superheroes or people who are specially chosen by destiny for greatness. There are just ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances doing the best that we can. Sometimes that is enough. Like everyone else, I wanted to be one of the special people when I was a kid, to do great things and lead an epic life. Now that I am grown, I have come to realize that there is nothing more amazing, more extraordinary than an ordinary life!

Self Portrait Volume I.5: The contents of my luggage.

       We live in an increasingly narcissistic and shallow age. Never before in the history of our species has communication been so easy. With our amazing technical advancements we are capable of broadcasting every detail of our lives, and every thought that crosses our minds to the entire world and giving it the weight of real importance. Worse still, the system has become self perpetuating. Not only are we capable of telling the world what we had for breakfast with the click of a button, but other people can weigh in with their own superficial opinions on the trivialities of our lives, thus adding fuel to the fire of our egotism.
Personally I find this crude intolerable and disgusting.

I will be damned if I let everyone else hog all of the attention!

    As a person who travels for a living, I ordinarily spend very little time thinking about packing. I just throw whatever book I'm reading, a sketchpad , my laptop, some toiletries and the appropriate amount of black clothing in a bag, grab the fiddle case on the way out the door, and I'm ready to go. Preparing for Arizona was different. I had to make sure I was ready for several different climate conditions and had casual clothing as well as "show blacks". I also had to make certain that I had enough things to keep me amused for three weeks, including endless hours in the passenger seat of a car. Perhaps because i'm working on my self portrait, and am slightly more conscious of the question of identity that I realized the assembled items actually provide insight into my personality.  Here, in short are the things I didn't want to be without for three weeks. I shall spare you the boring stuff like clothes and such. note to the makers of any of the items pictured: I will happily endorse the living daylights out of  your products. You just have to pay me lots of money first!

What I packed:
*My bike
*My fiddle
*Books: The Mythic Image-Joseph Campbell, Birds Of the Western U.S., The Tempest- William Shakespeare, Walden- Henry David Thoreau, A book of short stories by Robert Heinlein (borrowed from my roommate), 300 Fiddle tunes.
*Two packages of my favorite pens
*Large contact juggling ball
*Billiard ball (also for contact juggling. This is my pre-show warm up)
*Block of soapstone
*Several blocks of wood (Maple and Basswood)
*Selection of wood carving tools and sharpening stones in tool roll
*Tool roll with rasps and stone carving tools
*Large sketch pad
*Pad of bristol board
*Pad of watercolor paper
*Roll containing various drawing tools and brushes
*Box set of watercolors
*MP3 player
*Mouse puppet
*Laptop (Okay, its like this: My friend who sold me this computer never mentioned it was yellow until I had already agreed to buy it. It used to belong to his girlfriend apparently. So you see, I had little choice but to paint it with the Taxi cab pattern).  
*(not pictured for obvious reasons) Digital camera

Thinking Small

      On the backpacker circuit, puppeteers have a problem that no other performer seems to encounter, to whit: no obvious means of showing  off.
      In any random group of international travelers, there tends to be a large number of creative open minded people, exactly the sort of people who it is fun to compare notes and possibly collaborate with. The kind of people most likely to be favorably impressed by my odd career choice. The fact that many of them are attractive young women is entirely coincidental. The trouble starts when it comes time to actually show what you can do. The chances of anyone having a good usable puppet with them are extraordinarily slim. Musicians never have this problem. Someone always has a guitar. Jugglers usually come fully equipped. Actors, dancers and vocalists never even have to think about it.
      The practical result is that either you have to explain as best you can and  leave everything up to the imagination, or spend a great deal of your time abroad frantically sourcing materials and hurriedly attempting to build a shadow show. Time, I hasten to point out that could better and more constructively used for drinking rum in a hammock.

    The problem is further compounded by the fact that my natural tendency as a puppeteer is towards grandiose theatrical  ideas best executed on a full sized stage. I want to build the next "Lion King" or "War Horse". This is terribly difficult to do without financial backing. Instances of Broadway producers stepping forward to offer me large production budgets have been rare. Casual observers have commented on how frequently this doesn't happen to me. My natural inclination for working large also has the unintended side effect of needing to find storage in my apartment for stuff like this:

Minotaur 1999-2000. Mixed media.

As an intellectual exercise, I've decided to change gears and deliberately design and build a series of smaller puppets that could neatly fit into any given carry on bag. For my first piece I thought I would build a rod puppet that could be manipulated by one hand with finger rings. Here is the system I originally designed. It worked, but I found for practical purposes, it limited the range of motion the puppet was capable of. I changed to simple rods in the final version.

The puppet was carved out of maple. Maple while beautifully grained is ordinarily a wood that I'd consider too heavy and dense for puppet building. One of the advantages to my size limitations is that weight became much less of an issue. I was therefore able to use an attractive piece of maple that I had on hand. Here are the blocks that I used.

....And here is the finished product! He is finished with coffee(one of my favorite wood finishes! more on that later) and jointed with leather. His ears, paws,eyelids and tail are also leather. the eyes are polymer clay with a high gloss finish.

       
 As a special added bonus, here is a minute of test footage that is now up on Youtube! :

This was a fun exercise. I like how it turned out. I may have to do more small scale work.

Fiction: Border Crossing Part III

                                                                III

The Manticore’s eyes burned with mad ferocity, His all-too-human face was empty of any expression apart from raw, vacant hunger. The monster’s gaping maw hung slack and slathering revealing rows of sharklike teeth within. Ribs protruded from his gaunt lion body. The beast’s ragged panting echoed across the barren rocks and gnawed bones of his lair. His breath was fetid and foul smelling. From the hair of his matted threadbare mane to the poison dripping tip of his scorpion tail, the manticore was a creature of anger hunger and want. He was quite possibly the most terrifying thing Connor had ever seen

Alba’s hand drifted carefully towards her blade’s hilt. With infinite care she drew the sword from its scabbard.  To Connor’s shock, she deliberately set the weapon down beside her. She began to croon softly to the ravening beast in Russian. Connor didn’t understand the words but the tone was unmistakably gentle and even affectionate, as if coaxing a frightened child. The manticore rocked uncertainly for a moment on its haunches, the chitinous, segmented tail cocking like a squirrel’s. He lurched to his feet and began padding towards them.

“What the hell are you doing?” hissed Connor in panic “Don’t call it!”
                “Shut up and let me concentrate,” she rebuked without changing tone or looking away “watch!”

At first Connor thought he must be hallucinating. The Manticore appeared to be walking forward without moving. Then he realized that it was shrinking as it came nearer.

“How are you doing that?” He gasped

Alba scratched the ears of the rust colored cat that stood in the manticore’s place.

“It wasn’t me,” she told him “the enchantment is the Light Queen’s”

The cat purred appreciatively at Connor’s caress. Connor laughed with relief.

“It was a harmless cat all along?” he chuckled, incredulous.

“It would be more accurate to say he’s still a manticore” sniffed Alba. Connor hastily withdrew his hand. The cat butted his leg affectionately.  

“Wait, What? How?” Connor demanded

Alba sighed wearily.

“It’s all about perception”, she explained as she absentmindedly stroked the animal. “If we had fled, he would have chased and devoured us. Had we fought, we would have been faced with an invincible foe.  He reacts to the way he is treated. The Queen loves enchantments like this. It’s her style”

*************************************************************

The tiny tailor cast an appraising eye over his handiwork. His push-broom mustache twitched.

“That will do nicely” He concluded

“I’m not wearing this, I look like a clown!” groused Connor.

“You must dress not to draw attention to yourself on the Other Side, Sir”, the tailor chided. He reminded Connor of his neighbor’s geriatric terrier. “this way you will not draw attention to yourself”.

Connor gazed at his own reflection. He couldn’t imagine any situation where this outfit wouldn’t stand out

“I want to see!” Alba’ voice demanded. The dressing room door burst open. Connor had never seen anyone actually fall over laughing before.

“No! Absolutely not!” She wheezed with mirth.

“All the Bards of the realm dress in this fashion, Lady”. The tailor’s watery eyes were full of reproach.

“No they do not” she fired back, still giggling. “How do you expect him to walk all the way to the Queen’s court in those stupid curly toed shoes? Get him a decent pair of boots, for heaven’s sake! While you’re back there, put that quilt he’s wearing back on your bed and get a travelling cloak that isn’t made of patchwork. Brown or gray would be best.”

The spindly tailor drew himself up with dignity.

“As the Lady wishes, but how will people know the gentleman is a bard?”

“He’s not a bard, he’s just a musician” Alba corrected “If it comes to that he can tell them. Now go get a more practical cloak and boots. I need to change.”

“Wait a minute, what about the hat?” Connor demanded pointing at the gigantic black floppy creation with it’s yard long maroon feather.

“That, we’re keeping” Alba grinned wickedly and disappeared into the next stall. The tailor bowed formally before vanishing into the back room in a cloud of unhappy muttering. 

“If anyone asks, we’re on our way to a costume party right?” she reminded him from the other side of the wall.

“Won’t that sword in your garment bag be a problem?” he asked

“It was made in the Realm. Most people on our side can’t see it. Also, unlike most metal it can be carried over the border. You remembered not to bring anything metal right?”

“Just my mandolin strings. You said that was okay. Will I need a weapon?”

“You don’t know how to use one, so no”, her accurate diagnosis was muffled by a rustle of fabric Instrument strings are fine as long as they aren’t iron”

“Why do I need the mandolin in the first place?” The tailor re emerged and began to make the changes to Connor’s costume.

“It’s custom to bring a gift to court. The Queen likes music. You’ll play for her.”  Alba’s voice explained.  Connor glanced back into the mirror. He had to admit the new boots and cloak were an improvement.  The door swung open again.

“How do I look?” Alba twirled in front of him. She looked as though she had just stepped off of a decorative beer stein and was about to start yodeling. Connor had never seen anyone looking less like a warrior.

“Fine” he told her gruffly. The tailor obviously didn’t feel this was sufficient.

“Your Ladyship looks very fetching. If I may advise, though, the fashion is to wear one’s hair loose these days.”

Alba patted her tight French braids

“It’s out of the way like this.” she decided after a second of inspecting her reflection. The tailor produced two carved wooden lockets from his vest pocket. She placed one around her own neck before putting one on Connor.

“What’s this?” he asked

“Soil from here. It’ll keep you grounded”

“Seriously?”

Alba nodded. 

“Time moves differently across the border. You never know if you’ll come back five minutes after you left, or a hundred years. If you carry a bit of earth from your side with you, it keeps the connection stronger. You won’t lose more than a year with this on. Now let’s get moving. We have a long way to go.

As they left Alba pressed a few large golden coins into the tailor’s palm. He made one more valiant attempt to place the hat on Connor’s head.

“I’m not wearing that! She was joking!” Connor protested, ducking out the door.

Self Portrait Volume I

Detail from a page of animation notes probably circa 1999.

    Every artist at some point in their career feels the need to do a self portrait. perhaps it is a simple desire to leave some record of our existence, or maybe it's a desire to truly know one's self, or to reflect on our true nature look as it were at the view from outside our bodies. Or, it could just be simple narcissism. 

Whatever the case I used to have  an annual tradition of doing a self portrait every New Years day (Or at least within two months of New Years!). During recent years I've let this ritual slide. There is no good reason for it aside from simple inertia and a slight reluctance to sit in front of a mirror for hours, swearing at drawing implements. As I have decided to start this tradition anew, I thought it might be fun to take a look back at some of my past efforts. The results were....interesting. I will not publish everything I found  because, well because it's MY blog, and I can do whatever I want with it! (Trans: some of them are awful). There are a few random pieces that had nothing to do with the annual effort  and seriously predate it. So, here goes!:

1992 block printing project

1993.Fun fact: In high school,apparently I was perfectly adapted to subsist on a diet of termites

1998 Oil on canvasboard. I was big into the idea of totems then

1997 I remember drawing this.I was sitting in the big front windows of my college on a bright , sunny day, and I cast a shadow. This might be my favorite in this collection

2000. I think this was the first of the yearly drawings

Sketchpad cover from 2002-2003 (I think. I really ought to put dates on stuff).

2003 This was drawn in a hotel room somewhere. 

"The Suspect Was Last Seen...."
 I don't remember anything about this. let's just move on, shall we?

2004 I think. I was going through a phase with terracotta colors

I've since learned that Facial Hair is not my friend

 I look a little like my father here. 

Vampire novels started to get really popular in 2006...
Just sayin'

2007 so I got a little lazy, sue me

these may or may not have been preparatory sketches  for the next one

Ink on watercolor paper. I want to say 2008 but I don't know

editorial commentary on a page of random doodles

I hope you aren't as sick of looking at me as I am by now. Stay tuned for the upcoming 2012 edition in a little while! 

Christmas Puppets.

You know how life goes...

You move to a new apartment, get busy with your job and side projects, Thanksgiving  happens, your family does a bunch of stuff, and the next thing you know you've finally finished Christmas shopping and realize that you haven't updated your blog in two months.

Oh yeah, Sorry 'bout that!

Anyway, This year I decided, in an ill conceived effort to save money and time, to make my nephews and step-niece their gifts. I feel pretty comfortable posting the results because I'm fairly certain none of them follow this blog. The kids are the perfect age for this (Six, six, and four), in other words, old enough to get it and young enough to be easily impressed. To no one's great surprise, I made them all puppets. On Thanksgiving, I covertly found out what each of the children's favorite animals were, by the highly stealthy method of asking my sister Anne (their mom).
Nicholas's favorite is the lion

Cameron, like any six year old girl, loves horses

Michael's favorite animal in the whole world, for four year old reasons, best understood by himself, is a white mouse. I double checked this to make sure it was right. It has to be white.

I wanted them to be as simple as possible to operate, while still being fun to play with. The puppets are based off Sicilian Marionettes and have rope legs and tails ( braided clothesline. Incidentally,I discovered that clothesline is next to impossible to dye!). their bodies are made of polyfoam covered in fleece and felt with yarn and leather accents and simple carved wooden feet. the eyes are of course polymer clay.

My room mate, Joe was kind enough to shoot the photos. He also has some video footage that I will upload when I get it. I was hoping to take some additional shots, but apparently I forgot to pack my camera with me. If anyone remembers to get pictures of the children unwrapping these, I'll post them too.
Merry Christmas!

Dragon Skeleton

 Happy Halloween! Today seemed like a good opportunity to post some pictures of one of my better efforts. This is a fully articulated dragon skeleton. each bone has been individually hand carved out of basswood. I like the way the blonde wood plays against the darker ceiling in this hanging. For me this piece is a good synthesis of my love of fantasy and folklore and my passion for natural history and anatomy (I've previously discussed my fascination with bones Here.).  The skeleton is roughly goose sized and that of a Common Sea Wyvern, or Brown Drakie. There is an entire biological profile behind her, complete with adaptations and social behaviors My personal fantasy world grew  fairly elaborate, to the point where there is evolution and speciation taking place. I will delve into that topic later. For now, I hope you enjoy!