New sculptures

Serpentine forms circle about the studio as I revisit this familiar form. One that is so well suited to my tall narrow working space. Stretching from floor to ceiling or from wall to wall, I stuff delicate, soft, shapeless nylon with cedar wood, plastic and aluminum capsules. These pill like forms are suspended within a net of translucent mesh stocking, stacked within the tube like pancakes atop one another.

They are immediately familiar to me, taking me back of a childhood spent watching earthworms move in the rain. They also take me to the drifting tide- in that middle space between surface and depth of the sea. Like the long armed Zoo plankton that loomed in the red tide feed. They are also unlike anything I know, for it must be that way.

Repeating the form, but changing the materials, from dense to translucent and back again. These are designed to float both in air and in water-defying the space around them. I sleep beneath the tentacles and watch the last light glow upon their skin like surfaces. I continue to build them as I am consistently finding the uniform materials-these ready mades- that I need. The process is methodical, like dressing a child, then hanging these forms up like clothes upon the line. When my supply of materials grows scarce, my interest will too shift to another form to string like beads.

Santaland part 3

So Jingle Jangle boy seemed to get us all threatened, including a miniature trio of Latininis who flaunted their lack of stature. "I am soooo ashamed to have to like write 4foot eight for height." Show off. I was monsterous compared to them. I felt like I was back on the public bus in Padangsedimpuan, Indonesia with a chicken on my lap. Rolling around on a pile of coconuts because I was deemed "Basar." Which I believe transates to 'grace of an elephant.' I wanted to be svelt and elfinlike but not around these three whose giagantic earrings made them appear even smaller. They pushed their way to the front of the Santaland line up stating loudly and repeatidly, "I can't see. I can't see anything." Yeah we got it the first time.

A drill sargent of a manager yelled at us, "who believes in Santa!" She scared the heck out of me but I managed a hand up. She obviously didn't see it or maybe just wanted to show the torture she could let loose on a non believer. I noted that I did in fact raise my hand, so she retorted by making fun of how I raised my hand. Wasn't merry enough, I guess. Should have poked out my neighbor's eye in the name of Claus. I gave thought to jumping at her feet and yelling "I believe! I believe! Amen!" But then I pictured her tying me to the creepy talking tree and leaving me there for the season as Jingle Jangle and the three amigas threw candy canes at my head. Better let her have this one.

I skated through the tag team interview, speaking as loudly as I could. I was judged elfin enough and put into a top secret survey room. Jingle Jangles was nowhere to be seen. Did he get lost in the maze? I mean it is a one way system, but his earlier panic had me concerned that he might have accidently got his head stuck in a dry cleaning bag or something.

to be continued...

Santaland Part 2

Upon my arrival in NYC a rather sporadic job website search showed Santaland mixed in with other more normal positions at Macy’s. It was short term; seasonal work that called for holiday spirit and wait, that is where David Sedaris worked! Bingo. No other job would suffice. This casual search resulted in a passionate chase to become the next member of the village. I dialed the Santaland Hotline not knowing what to expect. I returned later that day to find a message on my answering machine that sounded as if Santa himself had called. I played and replayed the message certain that this is the voice of Santa. What I did expect? Well, I am not sure but the quality of the voices that lulled you on the messages were enough to make you dream of sugarplums.

What I did not know is that while I left messages on the voicemail all was cutting loose behind the scenes in Santaland. They were just hiring the last positions in the next couple of days. Several hundred had already been deemed not elfin enough. As I rather absently redialed so to listen to the message again in a faint hope that someone would pick up. I did get through to an animated chap who continued to weed out the ranks by asking me a few questions over the phone. I felt as though he picked up the phone by accident, kind of like a reflex reaction that he may have been regretting. He paused momentarily before deciding to plow ahead with the interview.

I tried my best to show my unique humor without sounding overly aggressive or creepy. I could only imagine what they had already heard from other prospects. I made the effort to show my character and sell myself as a cheerful team player who is adept at handling holiday stress and able to babble in many world languages. Sold. Come in for the group interview. He noted to follow the crowds to Human Resources. Crowds? Boy, nothing intimidating about being herded into HR with hundreds maybe thousands of potentially shorter, merrier contenders. I looked for the flattest shoes I owned. I was told to dress Business like. Hmm, what would a career savvy elf dress like? Green and red seemed too obvious, black too stark. So I threw on a pink knit sweater that made me look blushed and huggable to children. Done, now how to elfin-ify my resume?

I tried to downplay all of the solo artist stuff that could look like too much of maverick in what I naively believed to be an otherwise egoless environment. Santa was the show elves were the sideshow and I needed to make my resume look like I was a teammate not a soloist. I squashed out as much as I could and highlighted my costumed parade appearances and teaching experience both of which showed that I was used to humiliating myself. I saved it under “Elfin Resume” and put it on the jump drive. When the Staples employee pulled up the file I caught her rolling her eyes as she read the file name. Jealous, I thought to myself. If I get the job I may even report her to the big man like an elfin snitch.

I did follow the crowds to the Human resource department where I faced off with the competition. One gangly curly haired boy with a striped scarf was a shoe in I feared. He looked like a Claymation figure come to life straight out of Rudolph’s Shining New Year. Was it Jingles or Jangles I pondered as the voice on my answering machine boomed in front of me? Oh my, it’s him. I meekly responded and felt like the lion before the wizard as his voice rang out again asking me to speak louder. I have never been known for a loud voice, except for screaming on roller coasters. This was my weakness and Santa had already zoned in on it. No hiding anything in this HR department considering we are under scrutiny by a boss with special powers.

The Jingle Jangle boy was now spinning out of control even though the voice of Santa had already acknowledged that he was perfect. Fortunately for me the Claymation model was unable to fill out an application. Panicked and now calling home for assistance. Ha! Amateur. He was in turmoil like the Toll House elves when the cookies go flying all over the place and they are left covered in chocolate. We were funnelled into the next room of chaos where giant ornaments swung dangerously above our heads. I thought they were going to have us compete in a sort of Survivor Santaland where we pushed each other over in the maze as giant ornaments crashed down and we slipped on fake snow as we rushed to get to Santa's lap. But the following game was just as scarry as we were grilled about our alliances to the tribe of Santa...


…to be continued