Already Counting the Days Until Next Hallowe'en

Hallowe'en here at Tumbledown is sometimes all about the pumpkins.

If you don't know this yet about me, Hallowe'en is my fave holiday of the year. It's gotten more so as I've aged, and each time it nears I'm reminded of every Ray Bradbury story I've ever read and my head spins with his images.

To me it's all about the atmosphere.

Now it's usually more about the 'creepy' than the 'cute.'

In past years my holiday decor consisted of pumpkins, gourds, jack-o-lanterns, scarf-draped lamps and tarot cards, flickering candles and mulled cider and Ouija boards. But since James moved in with me all that has changed.

James is an old-school, 'slasher film' kinda Hallowe'en guy. And a Young Frankenstein kinda Hallowe'en guy. There's humor in his holiday, and a healthy pinch of gore. He's not above the pop-up-and-scare-you stuff (at which I draw the line). And a trip to a seasonal Hallowe'en outlet with him is 'interesting.'

Left on our own, I will go directly to the atmospheric stuff (The candelabra! The fringed black tablerunners!), but James wants the crawling zombie animatronic. He wants the clacking and sparking lab device, the knife switches, the bubbling beakers with their contents of fake bloody body parts. He wants the quaking tombstones and the screaming wraiths....

So I've taken to divvying up the house: I get the inside, he gets the outside. And then I tweak all that he does because I'm a Hallowe'en control freak.

Mr. Bones relaxes by the fire.

This year, one of our first holiday purchases was a full-size skeleton. I've always wanted one, and I've held out over the years until I could find something that looked 'just right.' (There are a lot of skellies out there, but the bulk of them just look cheesy....)

Before we even got him home I'd already named him Mr. Bones. Not original, I know, but when I first saw him in the store I couldn't help but say, "Ahhhh, we meet again, Meestah Bohnz!" (Admit it; not even you can say his name without sounding like a Bond villain.) And not surprisingly, the name stuck. What can I say?....

This looks equally nice as a mantel scarf!

In the same picture (above) you can kind of see the lamp on my fireplace mantel. You may or may not be able to see that it's a real working electric meter, but that's not the part I want to show you. This year I spookified my mantel lamp with a fringy black valance from a curtain set that I'd bought at a Hallowe'en store once upon a time. (I wasn't sure then what I was going to do with it or if I'd ever use it, but it's better to be safe than sorry, right?). I ran a shoelace through the spaces in the top of the valance where a curtain rod would go, and then I tied the ends of the shoelace together before draping the whole thing over the lampshade. When it was in place, I finger-pleated the curtain. Voila! :)

I love the result, don't you?

While I was playing around indoors, James was busy in the front garden, stomping my sedum and artemesia into fragrant dust while negotiating the logistics of the fog machine. And then there were tombstones to hook up to it, obelisks to arrange, and battery-operated Angels of Death to suspend from my garden hooks -- all before the trick-or-treaters were due to arrive.

This season we discovered a creation at the Goodwill that we refer to now as 'Cocoon Man.' It's a vaguely body-shaped lump wrapped in fake spiderweb. The thing I love about it is that even though it's battery-operated to do stuff, it's still pretty low key for an animatronic. No deafening sound effects. No stupid cackling voice shrieking things like, "Get me out of here!" (I could never figure out why it's not enough for Hallowe'en decorations to just look cool....)

The photo doesn't do him justice, but you get the idea.

At first we were going to simply suspend Cocoon Man by his feet from a tree branch. But I couldn't help thinking how much better he'd look hanging vertical inside the lighted archway that I normally keep inside my house by the front door. (Yes, it's a Hallowe'en prop, too, but I didn't have the heart to pack it away; it's just too cool. And leaving it outside year 'round was out of the question, and not because I care at all what the neighbor's think. I just didn't want it to fall prey to the Minne-snow-tah elements.)

After combining Cocoon Man with the archway, I again couldn't help thinking how much better he'd look with some more of my tweaking. I entwined the arch with a swag of black plastic maple leaves, then wrapped Cocoon Man in more spiderweb before sprinkling him with a few plastic spiders. Then I affixed a large furry spider (it has a funny face, so I'm guessing it was originally meant as a table decoration) to his throat to make it look as though Big Mama spider had chosen him as dinner for her spiderlings. Mwa-ha-haaaaa. I had no idea that the whole effect would look so awesome come nighttime....

Cheap top hat + valance + eyeliner = costume

Since I was knee-deep in the doldrums at the time, I had little interest in doing more for the holiday than we already had. However, five minutes before our first trick-or-treater was due, I found the interest and energy to cook up a quick costume. One floppy top hat (again from the Goodwill; this one had the word 'Bridegroom' across the front of it, but I blacked the letters out with marker), one additional black lace curtain valance, some liquid eyeliner and I was good to go.

Three dozen trick-or-treaters and a handful of Addams Family TV-series reruns later and Cocoon Man and the rest of his graveyard friends were back inside, awaiting their return to the basement again until next year.

Sadly, our trick-or-treater count was down from seasons past. James thinks that our usual Goth teens have grown up and moved on, and he hopes that we're somehow inspiring Hallowe'en-lovin' little ones to return in future. At least a couple ventured forth with their parents this year and whispered shyly to James that they 'love our house,' so it was nice to know that all James's work was noticed....

And I say 'James's work' because he really did do the bulk of it. I felt bad that because of my mood this year I was unable to do much of the stuff I usually do for Hallowe'en. No pinky-grey Jell-O molded to look like a human brain. No paper lunchbags inkstamped with witchy images and filled full for the trick-or-treaters. No Body Bag Tacos or cauldron brimming with green margaritas. No haunted house sounds moaning from the stereo speakers.... I'm blaming it all on a bout of Post-Fest doldrums followed by a month that was all about obligation when it should've been about recovery...

But I have high hopes for next year.
:)

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Lest you think I've forgotten, today's additions to the Thankfulness List are:

1.) A birthday that's in the month of October.
2.) Leftover Hallowe'en candy.
3.) Ray Bradbury and how he gets into my head more than ever each autumn.
4.) Actress Carolyn Jones' oh-so-curvy Morticia Addams.
5.) A guy in my life who doesn't mind putting away the Hallowe'en flotsam. (Thank you, James!)

Inching Forward

It's a late October day of clouds.

The neighborhood's been fairly silent this afternoon. No deafening leaf blowers and lawn mowers, no droning street sweepers and wood chippers. Just birdsong. And the static crackle of leaves dancing down the street.

My house is dark and still, as though not even I am here. I have no substance today.

My invisibility has been coming on steadily by degrees since before Fest was even over. At that time I'd been reduced to just a hologram, powered by a rechargeable battery that was in the process of irrevocably losing its memory. Every smile started out bright and began fading at once, and it hurt significantly just to pull enough juice from somewhere to generate another.

And today there are few smiles. My post-Fest agenda has burned me out completely. It's been a difficult month....

But I think it's a good sign that for the last five minutes I've been writing.

I may feel depleted. I may feel as though my well's gone dry. But it amuses me to notice that as soon as I'm able to function at all it's not a sketch pad and a pencil that I turn to. It's not even my books or my pets or my music. It's words.

And who do I write to? You.

I have missed you.

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Moving Through the Doldrums

Ahoy! There be a light at the end of this tunnel!

I've been trying to sleep my life away, apparently. That's what I do when I'm dealing with The Downs. Depression just paints everything nap-colored. So it's doubly difficult to accomplish anything when the down-and-dirty Downs are running amok. But I tried. And since this blog is technically a 'studio blog' about art and stuff, I thought I'd share with you what I've managed to create in spite of The Downs.

My eldest daughter is expecting her first child in April, and I found myself recently trying to decide on a shower gift for her. I, of course, wanted to give her the moon! But I can't, so I turned to art instead. (Please know that in my head, art is rarely if ever an appropriate gift. When a customer tells me that the art they've just purchased from me will be a gift, my stomach ties itself in knots. Art is terribly personal. It's not a one-size-fits-all kind of thing. It has to fit the giftee's style.)

Creating something by hand is the only way I can afford to give a gift of quality. There are those in my Girlz' extended families who can not only buy the moon itself but also the one-of-a-kind crackers to spread it on, and I can't compete with that. But I can give my he'art.' My mom reminds me that what I've created will be an heirloom, that my grandkids will one day as adults look at my work and think, "My grandmother MADE this. For ME." And I try to imagine it, but I can't. I've made what I've made because it's all I can give. I like to hope it's enough, but in my head it's no moon....

So I thought long and hard about what I'd create for my Eldest -- a fierce go-getter who has run a triathalon, climbed a mountain, and gone to hell and back again via Iraq. Her nursery plans are all about Adventure and Travel, and the room will be in hues taken from antique maps. I liked the limitations; it'd narrow down my choices and rein in my imagination. 

Scrapbooking pages with the Equator all lined up.

Keeping her theme in mind, I began to collect my ideas. My first step was to find a frame that I could afford, and the Universe kindly led me to a gilded triptych with a parchment-colored mat. And then I found scrapbooking paper designed like old map pages. Things were coming together. When I got home, the first thing I did was to line up the equator of my three map pages so that they flowed from left to right in a grand arc, just like a globe. Then I secured them to the frame's mat with art tape.

Cute and sweet meets mischievous and adventuresome.

All the while I was doing this I toyed with characters. Since my daughter and her husband have decided not to know the sex of their baby prior to birth, I chose to use an animal character in the picture I'd design for them. I wanted something that would seem cute and androgynous, something that could appear in an adventure theme and still look sweet even while it's climbing a mountain or wrestling a bear, something that would be appropriate in the nursery of either a boy or a girl. So I chose a mouse. And because of the theme, the mouse would have to be doing something over-the-top. And because of the triptych frame, it'd have to be doing it in threes.

Tinting the drawing with pencil.

My first idea was a mouse in an old-fashioned hot-air balloon (in keeping with the old-fashioned-ness of the gilded frame and the tea-stained map pages). I sketched an idea directly onto stiff watercolor paper and made everything larger than the 5x7 mat opening because I wanted the final work to sit on top of the mat and look 3-dimensional. Then I outlined the sketch in waterproof marker and delicately tinted it in colored pencil.

Background bits are removed so the map can show through.

My next idea was to put the same mouse in a boat. Again I sketched my idea onto watercolor paper (this time using a lightbox to illuminate my original mouse-in-a-balloon drawing under a blank sheet of paper to ensure that both drawings would be similarly sized). Then I inked it and tinted it in the same shades as the balloon drawing. Nothing too girly-girly, nothing too testosterone-y. Mostly everything was in gold parchment shades with the occasional salmon pink and seafoam for some color relief.

So now I had travel by air and travel by water. The third scene in the triptych would be travel by land. I began to sketch out a mouse on a camel, only I changed it immediately to a giraffe for the bright yellows and interesting pattern shapes. But it didn't take me long, however, to dump the idea of the third sketch altogether in favor of a verse, something in the middle that the other two drawings could point to and frame. I figured I'd search for a cool quotation on the Internet and so I left the verse for last....

I <3 the 3-D effect.

When the drawings were colored, I trimmed them from the watercolor paper with cuticle scissors and then cut the interior background bits out with an X-Acto knife so that the map would appear behind the designs proper. Then I stuck little foam scrapbooking stickers to the backsides of the drawings to make them 3-dimensional and secured them to the map pages on the triptych frame.

My attempt at writing verse. :)

Then there was the problem of the verse.... I looked all over the Internet and couldn't find just exactly what I wanted, so I decided at the last moment to write something my own self. I printed the words onto parchment-colored linen paper, then trimmed the verse to look as though it had a deckle edge. I gave it the same 3-D treatment by elevating it above the map page with scrapbooking stickers. Then all was framed.

Voila.

So that's that. A bit of sunshine managed to part the clouds of my Doldrums and help me create a little something for my future Grandbug that I hope will make a mark on his or her heart. Or at least remind them once in a while that they can do anything. Because they can.

Of that I have no doubt. :)
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Still, Still Waters.......

There are doldrums, and there are Doldrums. And then there are Dreaded Doldrums. And sometimes the best a person can do is just ride them the heck out.

 

I know you know what I mean. You've probably experienced them, too. You may even be far better at this than I am, and if so, I hope you'll share your coping mechanisms and help me start a dialogue. Because I need all the help I can get.

 

I can usually sense the Dreaded Doldrums approaching from a day or two away, and there are things I can do ahead of time to (hopefully) make them easier. Like clear my calendar and get some books in order. Maybe some pencils. 

 

And then the Walking Away From Communication begins. Facebook rubs my skin raw. Emails make me nervous. A ringing telephone feels like a personal violation. Spoken words hurt my ears. I retreat from people, pull myself in and talk in one-word sentences. Others begin their conversations sharply, "WHAT'S WRONG!?", like they suspect I'm angry and they're just protecting themselves by throwing the first punch.

 

If there are things on my schedule that cannot be avoided, I search the closet for some SuperHero duds, something I can put on like a costume and a mask to hide behind and make people think I'm OK. Often it's just my standard black tee and jeans and boots (heaven help me if I am expected to attend something special). I'll take the time for mascara, even. And I think I'm practiced at this enough to fake the world into not noticing me at all, or at least not noticing my discomfort. But when I'm wearing that Cloak of Invisibility, my mom still sees me and feels compelled to comment. "You never wear anything cute and colorful! You're always hiding!" She's on to me....

 

I dislike these rough patches. They take time. Days pass as I see them approaching. Days pass as I float along in limbo, feeling nothing and feeling EVERYthing (not sure what's worse...). Days pass as I stitch myself together again, thread by thread. And eventually I'm almost human once more, pretending to be creative and cheerful and sometimes almost believing that I really am. But the patchwork-ed-ness of these tears and repairs are getting dodgy. The older I get, the more threadbare I am....

 

Writing about Depression in an art blog seems superfluous. Like you can't address creativity without at least noticing the sad dog that follows it around. But I can't ignore it here. I can't. I'm not like those other artists / bloggers, the ones that -- day-in and day-out -- are nonstop Rainbow Brites on espresso, spewing sparkles and unicorns and big puffy hearts. How do they do that??

 

I envy them. I hate them. I want to be them. And I try....

 

The bottom line is: no one wants to read about my pain. They don't want me to infect them or expose them to my sad germs! They want me to make their day better, they want to leave here with a smile on their face. And I have to find a way to do that, even during the Doldrums. 

 

Is that what those other Rainbow Brite bloggers have figured out? Do they have someone ghostwriting their posts while they're curled up in bed, trying to sleep the pain away? Or are they lying? Acting all cartoony and full of color when they're not? And if so, doesn't their deception depress them even more?

 

I wish I knew.

So for the record, feel free to read between the lines here. For every puffy heart and exclamation mark I try to sneak in, please know there's a dark hurty hole that I'm hiding. I don't want you to think I'm being dishonest. But I'm going to try to disguise my inner Sad Girl as often as possible, so that you'll enjoy your visits and come back.

That being said, chamomile or Earl Grey? And the only cookies I have are shortbread. No sprinkles. And please take three; they're small.

*Big sigh and a shaky smile*

SO glad that's out of the way! How have YOU been, my friend?

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What Am I Missing?

James's birthday was on a Sunday recently so we made a whole weekend of it, and during that time I yearned to share our doings by posting some status updates on Facebook, things like: "'Sucker Punch' + vintage books + Mongolian BBQ = a great day!" But I was nowhere near a computer and my phone was low on battery.

And then a funny thing happened. I began to experience a little social networking withdrawal. Who knew??

Although I may be wrong, I don't think I spend a lot of time on social networking; however, I will admit it's on my mind a lot. My whole reason for even getting involved was to promote my art. And then it just sorta snowballed. Perhaps because I suspect I have the kind of personality that turns everything into an addiction.

Anyway, by the end of Day One of the birthday weekend just the thought of Facebook seemed a bit overwhelming to me. And a quick check on my iPhone told me that no one was even aware of my absence. Why did I care??

Day Two was more of the same. And by the time we returned home that evening I was in somewhat of a funk; just the sight of the computer was enough to make me anxious. In my mind I saw the amount of time I'd been devoting to establishing my little spot online, and how in a matter of hours that big world I'd been trying to orbit had leapt miles ahead of me. I didn't have the energy now to catch up. And it wouldn't matter anyway. Even a couple of the new Twitter followers I'd recently welcomed had already lost interest in me and 'unfollowed.' After a matter of hours.... Sheesh....

I can't blame Social Networking as the reason why the following week was such a downer for me. In the grand scheme of All Things That Depress Me, it doesn't make a blip. I'd begun to sense a deep darkness on my periphery before the weekend had even gotten underway, and with the deep darkness there comes a deeper aloneness. I know this. And for me, Social Networking provides a different kind of aloneness, and it didn't help.

When things returned to their normal routine on Monday, I made the online comment that I was stepping away for a while and would return to the world of Social Networking again when I could do so with a smile. And then I gave the computer a wide berth. The few who cared took the time to say they cared, and for that I'm grateful.

And since that post I've returned, but not fully. I look at the phenomenon and see a high school clique that is impossible for me to infiltrate, and just knowing that a little bitty part of me yearns to do so makes me unhappy with myself. I want the balls to cut my ties to it! But dang if I don't see its potential for someone like me who is trying to run a business on a dime.

Maybe it's my age. Or maybe I just don't understand it. Or maybe I just don't have the time for it. But Facebook and Twitter and the like just brush my fur backwards. Trying to employ them for the sake of Mayfaire takes time I hardly have and skills I don't possess. Since I care (and am careful) about what I post and how I post it, each sentence is handcrafted and honed. Not perfectly, I understand. Not even well, I suspect! But you wouldn't guess that from the amount of time and attention I give them. And does it matter? That's the big question. Am I wasting my time? Does it all work out for the best?

I haven't a clue. But those 'in the know' say it does. We'll see.... But for now it feels kind of nice to take a big step back and let it all run on ahead, gossiping and giggling like schoolgirls trying to catch the eye of the In Crowd.

While I read a book and plant peas. And draw. And dream.
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Not Again....

I'm having such an 'off' week; so full of dark thoughts and sand-papery feelings. Clothes hurt, colors shout, nothing soothes....

And all the while I suffer, the sun shines outside and birds sing, and I sense the passage of Time. It brings me to tears....
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Sweating the Small Stuff

Since Saturday night I've been enveloped in a sadness, the kind that just needs time (and perhaps all manner of exercise, vitamin D, and antidepressants) in order to go the heck away....

So what am I doing right now? Exercising? Taking care of myself? No. I'm standing at the dining room table sorting watch parts! Things so flippin' small I need a magnifying glass just to see them.

And suddenly just typing this has led to somewhat of an a-ha moment.

Perhaps part of the reason I'm depressed is because I'm making the small, insignificant, so-dang-miniscule-that-they-don't-even-make-a-surface-scratch-on-the-grand-scheme-of-things details way more important than they need to be.

...