The Hole

The mourners gathered at the site of the hole. The day was humid, bright and cloudless. A crow cackled from the cornfield that bordered the cemetery.

 

Each member of the congregation dressed in various shades of black, clean new noirs and over washed and faded greys. They tried their best for this day with what they had available on such short notice. Noelle stood at the edge of the hole. She looked striking, in a well fitted pencil skirt and matching blouse buttoned to the neck.  She clenched her stomach muscles and held her head high, wrenching her neck to the point where it felt like the vertebrae in her spine were being yanked apart. She peered down the length of her tall, slim body into the baffling chasm, took a deep breath and let out a long resolute sigh.

 

The hole, from what she could guess was about three feet wide and dug with precision. She could envision each layer of soil carved away and solemnly set aside in discs of perfect earth. At first it calmed her to think of such a refined and methodical process, but the more she pondered the hole, the more she realized it was a trap. Noelle felt unnerved and tried to make light of her observation. It’s The Lair of the White Worm she mused and imagined a giant centipede burrowing its way into the ground.

 

“What do you think is down there?” A shrill voice arose from the rear of the gathering.

 

Noelle turned and tried to look past the anguished faces at the hidden agitator. It was Hannah. Her German accent made everything sound like a Werner Herzog documentary.

 

Noelle closed her eyes. The wind blew and brought with it the wretched stench of manure. She gagged.

 

Hannah snorted, incensed.  

 

An old man in a greasy crushed baseball cap repeated, “help, help me.”

“Are you ok,” someone asked.

“I’m ok,” he responded, starting up all over again. “Help, help me.”

“This is a mad house,” Hannah exclaimed.

 

Noelle tried to imagine Werner Herzog whispering to his crew and pointing out the most curious looking mourners. There was Noelle’s cousin Sheila, a brassy, bottle blonde who still wore a Bumpit, Uncle George who slept standing and woke up mumbling about conspiracies, even Noelle, herself looking like a sad clown in a pair of oversized aviator glasses. The cameraman swooped in and out of the crowd on a long mechanical boom. It reminded Noelle of an alien appendage with a rolling eyeball, there to dissect each vulnerable fragment of the human form. She could hear Werner’s voice dictating the actions being fabricated in her mind.

 

“They stood together at the precipice. What would they find? There was much hand wringing and trepidation at the hole’s many implications. What was it trying to tell them?’

 

The sound engineer’s fuzzy microphone bobbed into the scene, the director yelled cut and Noelle came back to reality.

 

Noelle raised her head and squinted into the distance at the ominous blue and purple thunderclouds slowly moving toward the gathering. “Great,” she murmured and squared herself to the hole.

 

She toed at the dirt. What had made her wear these ridiculous shoes? They were black patent leather pumps. She would have never worn them if she had known she was expected to be a pallbearer.  The skinny heels had sunk deep into the soft terrain as she struggled to keep the heavy coffin level on her narrow shoulders.

 

A dissonant chiming cut into the damp air. It screamed from the phones of each of the grieving, trumpeting, “imminent threat, imminent threat!” Noelle pulled her phone from her pocket.

 

“Fuck you,” she raged and clicked the alarm off. “I don’t give a shit if a nuclear bomb is about to fall on my head!”  She hurled the phone at the ground, watched it bounce once and fall into the hole.

 

“I give up,” she said throwing her hands in the air.

 

A voice behind Noelle announced that the looming emergency had been an Amber Alert. She had thought for sure the notification was a tornado warning.

 

Noelle’s younger brother Teddy stepped up beside her. His hair was slicked back, and he smelled like Dax Wax. The odor made her face itch.

 

“I can get your phone,” he said and gestured toward the hole with a tattooed hand. His knuckle said rebel and Noelle noticed a slice of pizza drawn on the inside of his wrist and a crispy taco on the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger. Her stomach growled.

 

“I don’t know Teddy. I think it might be lost.”

 

Teddy fell to his knees. From behind them they heard his wife yell, “Teddy! Be careful!”

 

Not turning around, he batted his hand over his shoulder, shooing her away like a horse fly buzzing around his head.

 

Teddy stuck his hand in the hole and let it shoot forward like he had been captured by an underground force. “Oh my God,” he yelped, then laughed as the crowd began a frantic dance to save him.

 

Noelle kicked Teddy softly in the rib cage. “Get up you asshole.”

 

“It seemed like everyone needed a laugh,” he said, pulling out his phone and clicking on the flashlight app. He shone it down into the hole. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed. “It goes on forever,” and he twisted his body to try to get a closer look at the curve that formed deep inside the chasm. “It’s like a tornado slide!”

 

“Let me see” Noelle said and pushed Teddy away from the hole. “Yep, my phone is lost. Fuck it.”

 

Noelle looked at Teddy with wide eyes. “It’s the slide to Hell!” she jested.

“Oh, don’t claim it Noelle,” he responded with a grin, mocking their mother’s pious outcries.

 

Noelle directed her brother’s gaze toward the still remote storm clouds. “I thought for sure that alert was a tornado warning,” she whispered.

“Yeah, me too,” he responded and brushed the sweat from his brow. “It’s too damn hot out here,” he complained.

Noelle put a hand a Teddy’s back. “Thanks for trying Ted.”

“No problem darlin,” he replied in his faux Texas drawl and lumbered away.

 

Kay, Noelle’s widowed sister-in-law stepped out of the crowd. She was wearing a cotton summer dress with a wide neckline. A delicate gold chain with a locket adorned her chest. “Maybe it’s a grave. I mean that seems the most reasonable,” Kay said. Noelle adored Kay and felt relieved in her presence. She was thankful Kay hadn’t abandoned them after her brother’s sudden death.

 

“I don’t think so Kay. It seems too narrow, and it tunnels off in a weird direction.”

 

“Hmmm, Kay trilled, “Well, I don’t know then,” she said shrugging her shoulders.

 

Clackity, clack, clack, clack, bing, zzzip. Noelle imagined someone pounding out their guesses on an old typewriter, the bing as the keys hit the margin and the zip as the platen was moved back to the left.

 

Noelle put her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes. Where was her husband, Jack? He was always wandering off. The last she remembered he had gone to the van, but for what, a band-aid, a pen, some water?

“Has anyone seen Jack?’ She longed for this day to be over, and it seemed apparent that so did everyone else. People had started to walk away from the hole to sit in the shade of a lone tree. “Nope,” “nada,” “uh-uh,” came responses from different spots on the lawn.

 

An elderly woman stood alone in boxy turquoise jacket and cream slacks holding her purse like she was in a rush to leave. Noelle squinted and hoped that Teddy could see her as well. She looked just like their grandmother, but she had been dead for years. “Well, I thought I saw Jack go into the cornfield.” She responded in a leisurely, Iowa twang and then began to walk away towards the cars parked in a gravel lot.

 

“Can you ask Uncle Jack to come back?” a tiny voice diverted Noelle’s attention. Noelle smiled. It was her four-year-old niece Daisy. She crouched down in front of the little girl.

“Let me see if I can call him back in my mind,” she said and closed her eyes. “Jaaack, Jack come back.”

Daisy smiled and repeated Noelle’s words adding Uncle to Jack’s name. “Uncle Jack, where are you?”

“Let me see if he heard us,” said Noelle standing up. “Oh, look he must have been listening” she said pointing to Jack emerging from the cornfield.

Daisy looked back at Jack satisfied.

 

“Hello Little Dickens,” Jack smiled and rubbed the top of Daisy’s blonde head. He was wearing a light-colored cowboy hat and black Ray-Ban sunglasses.

 

“Where were you funny boy,” Noelle asked, poking Jack in the ribs.

“Ouch,” he exclaimed and jumped back. He looked at Daisy. “Did you see Auntie Noelle poke me,” he asked wide eyed.  “I just wanted to talk to the crows in the cornfield. They were so hungry and pecking at all of the corn. I sure hope they leave some for us!”

Daisy giggled and pulled her chin toward her chest. “Uncle Jack, you’re so silly.”

 

“What were you up to,” Noelle asked furrowing her brow as they walked toward the hole.

“I had to pee,” he answered holding his hands over his groin and bending his knees like a man in dire need of a toilet. He held out his thin lower lip in an anguished look.

“Stop it Jack,” she said, her face flaring red with embarrassment.

Jack stood up straight and looped his arm through hers. “You needed some light humor,” he whispered into her ear.

Noelle pushed him away. “Try to be a good boy,” she pleaded.

 

When they were back at the hole, Jack drew a headlamp from his front pants pocket and pulled it on. He motioned to Teddy standing beneath the tree with his family. “Teddy come here and hold my legs!”

 

“No way Jack,” Noelle protested.

“It’s fine,” he soothed, “I won’t fall in.”

“You think you won’t,” she argued, “but you have no idea what’s in there.”

Jack scoffed.

Teddy ambled across the grass, diverting around the weathered headstones.

Daisy followed behind her father. “I want to see! I want to see,” she chirped as she ran past Teddy.

 

The weary funeral attendees hunched over, staring at their phones, waiting for this episode of their lives to end, leapt in shock at the child running towards the hole.

 

Jack caught Daisy as Teddy rushed forward, skidding to a stop just inches from the hole.

“Daisy Moon,” Teddy scolded. “Don’t’ you ever do that again!” Daisy started to bawl, and Jack handed her off to her mother, Mia.

“Catastrophe diverted,” he said and smiled.

 

“Please Teddy, for the love of God, get away from that hole,” Mia begged and strode hurriedly away with Daisy gripped tight in her arms.

 

Noelle gave Teddy a look of mock fright. “You’re in trouble now.”

“What else is new,” Teddy cracked.

 

Noelle prodded Jack, “I think we need to get this over with. People are getting restless. Plus, it looks like it could rain any minute now.”

“Just give me one more minute,” he implored, taking her hand to squeeze it. Noelle gave him a withered smile and Jack jumped back into position at the rim of the hole.

 

“Teddy, take my feet!”

“This looks like a bad idea,” murmured Kay.

“Teddy hold on tight,” Jack ordered.

Noelle shuddered as her husband dipped forward into the hole. She felt like she might be sick and kneeled down to stop what was happening.

“Nope, you’re not doing this,” she demanded and pulled on Jack’s shoulder. He scooted away from the hole. “if you insist on doing this, get a rope or something. I’m not watching you fall into a hole for no reason.

 

Jack stood and switched off his headlamp. Noelle squinted and craned her head out of the direction of the piercing light. She blinked and looked at Jack confused. Was it just her eyes trying to readjust or was Jack glowing? She reached out to touch him, expecting a staticky crackle from the light that bound his body. She watched as her hand sliced through the shimmer. “Jack” she breathed in awe, “you’re luminous.”

 

“Hahahahahaha,” Jack chuckled nervously, wiping at his body like the light was dust he could just brush away.

“Uncle Jack is a lighting bug!” Daisy squealed and then tittered into her tiny fists.

Mia took Daisy by the shoulders and held her back. “What is that” she asked, astonished.

Noelle laughed. “You didn’t know Jack was an alien?”

 

Ever since their first meeting, Noelle had conceived that Jack had to be a creature not of this world. His soul seemed so lightly tethered to his body, like a helium filled balloon that he carried around on his wrist.

“Jack is an alien or a ghost,” she would tell her friends.

 Her myth about him grew as they got to know one another.

“There’s something about his eyes,” she would laugh. “They’re like earth seen from a spaceship.”

When Jack had told her he had been adopted, it seemed to solidify her story. She imagined him as a newborn baby beamed down by a UFO.

 

Noelle turned to Jack who looked frightened. She pulled him into her arms and squeezed him with all her might. “A little fairy dust can’t hurt us,” she cooed and kissed his high forehead. “Now what were you doing in that cornfield my Jack, drawing crop circles with your alien friends?’

Jack tensed and closed his eyes. Noelle kissed each one, blowing on his eyelids and running a finger over the fine skin that covered them.

“I’m scared,” Jack winced.

 

A powerful crack reverberated over the cornfield. Noelle screamed and put her hands over her ears. Jack collapsed. “Jack, c’mon get up,” Noelle begged trying to pull him to his feet.

“Teddy, Teddy,” she screamed over the sudden gusts of wind.

 

Teddy urged Jack up, holding him beneath his armpits. “C’mon Buddy,” he panicked.

“I feel sick,” said Jack as he slipped from Teddy’s grip and fell to his hands and knees. “Oh my God, Jack,” Noelle screamed. Vomit flowed from Jack’s mouth like a waterfall of silvery glitter. Noelle tried in vain to console him and Teddy called out for help. “Someone call 911!”

 

Kay ran out of the crowd. She had studied briefly to be a nurse. “Whoa,” she whooped and fell back astounded. “He needs water, or he’ll become dehydrated.” Kay dug through her bag and pulled out a metal bottle half filled with liquid. “Here,” she said and pressed the jug to Jack’s lips between his heaves. “It’s mint tea, but it’s all I have.”

 

Noelle felt frustrated by her inability to help her husband. “Oh Jack, you’re all-right, you’re ok,” she bawled.

Kay pushed her back. “That’s not helping,” she scolded.

 

Noelle stared at the frenzied mourners. She felt like she was in a game of chess with the eerie black hole in front of her and the cornfield blocking her rear retreat. She put her head in her hands and sobbed.

 

A man who Noelle barely knew came close to Jack and began filming him. He dipped a finger in Jack’s shimmering puke and held it to the phone’s lens. “Uh woah,” he said and wiped his finger in the grass.

 

Noelle swatted furiously at the man. “Get the fuck out of here,” she screamed so loud that it made her throat hurt. The man started to protest, but Noelle was no longer paying attention. She watched aghast as the hole changed form and began to slither across the lawn, like an inky black eel on top of the water. It paused at the man’s heels. Noelle gasped and the man slipped backward and vanished. Noelle fainted.

 

“Noelle, Noelle, wake up.” It was Mia, she was smacking the side of her face.

“Ouch” Noelle winged, struggling to sit up.

“You blacked out, but you need to get up.” Mia tried to pull Noelle to her feet.

“I can do it, “she said brushing her aside. “Where’s Daisy?”

“She’s with Teddy. They’re fine. Come on, we really need to go!”

Noelle pointed to where the hole had been. “What happened to the hole,” she asked Mia, confused.

Mia threw her arm back. “It’s over there. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” Mia begged.  

Noelle put a hand to her head. It was pounding. “Where’s Jack?”

Mia pointed to the sky at not just one Jack, but dozens. An unnatural yellow-green light swirled around them.

 

Noelle tripped backwards. “What is happening?” She felt like she was in a nightmare. Mia handed Noelle her phone. “Look, but keep walking,” Mia demanded.

 

Mia had taken a video of Jack’s body splicing itself into thin filmy slices that flew into the sky like chiffon wraiths. Shocked, Noelle wailed in agony.

 

“Jack, Jack, Jack come down,” she pleaded. “Please Jack, please!”

“No,” Mia shouted, “we must leave!”

“I’m staying. I want to be here with Jack.” Noelle cried.

“But he’s gone,” Mia said. “You need to come with me!”

The wind roared and an air raid siren screamed for them to take shelter.

 

Noelle sobbed and stumbled over a headstone. She stared at it trying to read its markings, but the words wavered. She laid down beside the stone, tenderly wrapping one arm around it and staring at the sky. Above, her Jack’s bodies beamed like a gathering of lighthouses illuminating the oceans of corn. With a trembling hand she reached for him. “Jack, Jack, Jack, oh my love. Over here! I love you my funny boy. I love you boy of my dreams.”

 

Mia yanked at Noelle’s arm and pulled her to standing. Noelle kicked her shoes off. The ground felt good on her bare feet. She could feel little bits of dirt biting into her heels and the grass tickling her toes.

 

“God damnit Noelle, we need to go.” Noelle followed Mia. She felt numb.

 

“Look, over there.” Noelle pointed towards the cornfield at a few brave souls still milling around at the edge. They ignored the sirens. The stalks of corn bent nearly sideways by the wind’s power.

 

Mia rolled her eyes. “Fucking Iowans,” she yelled over the squall. That made Noelle laugh. She thought of her own mother never flinching at a tornado warning.

 

“What are they doing,” Noelle screamed, gripping tight to Mia’s hand. She could feel her grasp slipping away in the gale.

 

“They want to know what made the noise when Jack fell, but they’re too afraid to enter the field.” Mia screamed. She tugged hard at Noelle’s hand trying to keep her in tow. They were nearly to a deep ditch at the side of the road where a few people huddled. It was their only option now. They had missed the window of time to try to drive to safety.

 

Noelle twisted her hand out of Mia’s. “I’m sorry Mia,” she shouted, “I have to go.”

“No Noelle,” Mia sobbed.

 

Noelle wasn’t afraid. She’d find out what made the noise. She sprinted against the wind towards the cornfield, away from Mia and the ditch, over the lawn of the cemetery, past the hole, and into the tall rows of corn. She knew the stalks would keep her safe. She held her arms up against the raging leaves, fleeing over the tilled earth. She ran further and further across the countryside searching for evidence of the loud boom. She could still see her Jack’s floating above her. A sound like a freight train vibrated across the terrain and immense drops of rain broke free from the clouds. Noelle could no longer fight the storm and she fell to the ground in a fetal position with her hands locked firmly over her skull. She felt the winds whipping across her body. She dared not peek out. Suddenly the wind stopped. The tornado had passed. She rose from her protective position. The sky was bright blue, and her Jack’s had all disappeared.

 

 

 

 

Magnolia/ An unedited work in progress

I have a memory of running home from Kindergarten and watching my feet as my Kelly green bellbottoms with colorful embroidered flowers kicked out in hypnotic leaps. The sky around me a cloudless gray of a late spring in early afternoon, the air warm and silent. 

I followed the rhythmic fall of my steps past the house on the corner where a recluse lived hidden away behind low hanging trees and an unkept garden. I ran past the garage where a race car that looked like an insect sat in the driveway, to the street where I would often say good-bye to my neighborhood friend. 

“See you later Alligator.”

“Aftewhile Crocodile.”

 On I bound and hurried past the short alleyway where the axe murderer lived, directly across from Mrs. Kellerman’s residence with her Patch the Pony sign in her window. 

 “Neigh, neigh, Patch the Pony says stay away from strangers.”

 Breathing hard and red faced  I sped past Mrs. Clatterbuck’s who was 99 years old and lived on her own in a crooked, weathered house that still had an ancient potbellied stove in her living room and the antiquated leather shoes of small children born many decades before on her dining room table. 

 Finally, in a last gasping leap across the cobblestoned street I would reach our home. Home, resplendent in its restfulness and warmth, protective of its many ghosts and guarded by the sigil of change, a many limbed magnolia that grew in our front yard and declared each year the end of winter and the triumphant return of spring in glorious pink blooms of thick, protective petals. 

 My parents bought our house in 1973 the year I was born for twelve thousand dollars. They didn’t have a mortgage but paid the owner something like one hundred dollars a month for many years. It was a  white two story craftsman style dwelling with a balcony and a closed in front porch located near the downtown area. My mother says she moved our entire house piece by piece, pregnant and in the hot summer sun by walking items from her old apartment a mile away to our new home with my six year old brother at her side. 

 Around the time our home was built in 1890, there were just 3,094 inhabitants in Marion, Iowa growing to nearly 20,000 by the 1990’s as old farms were bought up and the town spread into singe story ranch style homes with colorful siding. Rising up hills and sloping into curves of sameness.  Our side of town became the place where the older and less affluent populations lived, but it was the best side. The houses were more grand and the yards more expressive, radiating with the vivid orange of tiger lilies, ferns that looked like ostrich feathers, tangled grapevines that you could slip under to hide, walnut trees and spirea hedges blooming with white “bridal wreaths.” It was landscaping from another century when yards were more than just a neatly cut lawn drowned in chemicals to keep the weeds out. Eventually the neighbors on both sides of us killed the ferns, chopped down the walnut trees that were ruining the roof of their garage and uprooted the grape vine that was a natural barrier between our yards but happened to fall on their side of the property line. The brutality of mankind mired in the need to control, the fear of standing out and the desire for balance exterminated the florae in the quest for a yard that looked like a golf course. 

 Our house was in a crumbling state when my parents purchased it and it continued to be that way for many years. I can remember the carpet, so threadbare that you could see the rotting wooden floor beneath it and the kitchen fuse box for the electric that would spark each time you changed the fuse which looked like the base of a lightbulb on one end and a flat glass head like an oversized screw on the other. My mother would place the fuses and then use a wooden broom handle balanced over her head to push it in place to keep from being shocked. 

 The kitchen still had a door in the floor that you could pull up with a brass handle and descend wooden rickety steps to a dirt lined root cellar which had acted as a place to store food and in case of emergency to take protection from one of Iowa’s many tornadoes. It was frightening full of cobwebs, creeping insects and the soggy smell of mold. We were sure if we ever had the guts to dig we would find skeletons just below the clay and soil surface. 

 The bathroom was a converted walk in closet with a beautiful porcelain, claw foot bathtub and a toilet that was constantly threatening to fall through the floor. The original toilet had been in the backyard in the form of an outhouse and seemed to had been in general, not just a place to relieve oneself but also a place to throw broken crockery and other trash. We even found a mysterious well that was lined with green and brown antique liquor bottles while tilling the soil for a garden. 

 The stairs leading to the upstairs bedrooms were steep and narrow with one angular, wide step in the crook of a corner where magazines and old books would collect. I would sit on the bottom steps next to a low window that was always cracked and covered in packing tape to keep the glass pane from falling out and teach myself sign language from a book about Hellen Keller or stare desirous at tattered catalog of decorated cakes. 

 

 

Nearly Every Mask I've made since March 2020

These were part of the first batch I made for health care workers.

These were part of the first batch I made for health care workers.

Another batch made for healthcare workers and a few friends. The XO print is a print i created several years ago.

Another batch made for healthcare workers and a few friends. The XO print is a print i created several years ago.

This one is from another batch created for healthcare workers.

This one is from another batch created for healthcare workers.

This was a sample that never went into production.

This was a sample that never went into production.

Christian Joy Face Print. Very limited edition

Christian Joy Face Print. Very limited edition

Christian Joy Abstract Print. Very limited edition.

Christian Joy Abstract Print. Very limited edition.

Christian Joy Hieroglyphs print. Very limited edition.

Christian Joy Hieroglyphs print. Very limited edition.

Christian Joy Triangle Print. Adult and kids sizes. Very limited edition.

Christian Joy Triangle Print. Adult and kids sizes. Very limited edition.

Christian Joy Glossy Goo Print. Adult and kids sizes. Very limited edition.

Christian Joy Glossy Goo Print. Adult and kids sizes. Very limited edition.

Christian Joy Lips print. I think there are only around 3 of these.

Christian Joy Lips print. I think there are only around 3 of these.

Christian Joy Cloud Polka Dot Print. Very limited edition.

Christian Joy Cloud Polka Dot Print. Very limited edition.

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The above masks were all hand screen printed in my studio and are also all very limited edition.  Some of the prints like the plaid, multi-colored and the wavy stripe were from printed fabrics in my archive.

The above masks were all hand screen printed in my studio and are also all very limited edition. Some of the prints like the plaid, multi-colored and the wavy stripe were from printed fabrics in my archive.

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Graphic African fabric. This one came in kids sizes as well.

Graphic African fabric. This one came in kids sizes as well.

African print in kids and adult sizes.

African print in kids and adult sizes.

This mask and every mask below is made with fabric remnants. I had a lot of fun creating unique combos with each print. These as well were all limited editions of 10 or less pieces.

This mask and every mask below is made with fabric remnants. I had a lot of fun creating unique combos with each print. These as well were all limited editions of 10 or less pieces.

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I’ve recently started to create some more detailed, special occasion masks like this one with a metallic blue strip on each side of the face.

I’ve recently started to create some more detailed, special occasion masks like this one with a metallic blue strip on each side of the face.

This group is from a series based on my childhood in Iowa and the textiles found in the landscape of my life there.

This group is from a series based on my childhood in Iowa and the textiles found in the landscape of my life there.

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These two ruffle masks were extremely limited edition and signed and dated inside.

These two ruffle masks were extremely limited edition and signed and dated inside.

Embroidered loose weave fabric mask.

Embroidered loose weave fabric mask.

This one is an eight piece patchwork mask and reflects my love of going to Kmart as a child. I wanted everything to be bright and graphic!

This one is an eight piece patchwork mask and reflects my love of going to Kmart as a child. I wanted everything to be bright and graphic!

And finally, there is this one that I made just for myself!

And finally, there is this one that I made just for myself!

July 31, 2019 Cardboard and Stuffed Creatures

It’s another hot day here in NYC, but i have to say not as near as it has been. We’re lucky to have a cool (ish) day. The summer is slow as summer is meant to be. I’ve started to update my website and I’ve decided to use this blog to talk a bit more about my work. I make work all of the time and many times it just gets thrown up on Instagram where i don’t feel like i can really speak about it. (I’m not a fan of long captions. )

At the end of January of this year (2019) I began to paint. I had never painted before although I guess a lot of people have mentioned that some of the layered prints I’ve made could qualify as paintings, but this was my first time actually brushing paint to canvas. It began after I had read the Jerry Saltz article “How to Be an Artist” in New York Magazine. Here’s the link if you want to check it out. https://www.vulture.com/2018/11/jerry-saltz-how-to-be-an-artist.html I know I’ve been creating for a long time now but that doesn’t mean I don’t need some inspiration and encouragement. One of the suggestions he gave was to copy something by your favorite artist (or something along those lines). I had been obsessed with this giant cardboard cut out by Claes Oldenburg that I had seen at his show at the MOMA in NYC. When my husband and I saw it we were both totally blown away because we only knew Oldenburg’s soft sculptures. Here is a photo but I think it doesn’t really show the size well. It’s the dude on the right that I loved so much.

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So I decided to try to make my own version.

The first one looked like a robot or android. I have an obsession with otherworldly creatures.

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These are the 2nd and 3rd versions. They’re all hot glued together and I began to realize that there would be nowhere to put them. They’re each about 8 feet tall. My husband and I now sleep with them in our bedroom. They’re sort of our protectors i guess.

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Next I began to make some moveable pieces. I put them together with brads, but I have to say they’re not the greatest either. I haven’t really made too many since then because I’m running out of space and I’m worried they’re going to get wrecked in my storage space. I really prefer the hot glued pieces but I think I may also try some industrial strength Velcro.

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Finally i’d had enough of the cardboard (which by the way is everywhere now so if you need a cheap project just walk down the street.) so I decided to make a soft sculpture. I’m beginning to realize that perhaps Claes realized the same thing I did and wanted something that would last. But first here is a weird headpiece I made at the Painted Cloud in a class taught by Nick DeMarco a master of cardboard. It was meant to be turned into a paper mache but It would have taken way too long and I didn’t want to bring it home so i threw it in a dumpster.

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Here is the soft sculpture it’s in many iterations. I can’t stand to keep anything minimal or white even though sometimes I feel like it might look best. it’s just not my thing. i like color too much.

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Anyway, creating these pieces made me realize I could paint . I’ll talk about that more in the next post.