Funger--The Saddest Clown in the World

FUNGER. . .THE SADDEST CLOWN IN THE WORLD

The circus had blown town years ago like a dust kitten scattered by a door slammed in anger.

Oblivious to the blackening sky, Funger walked slowly home from the corner store where he went every morning to buy a scratcher and a bottle of cough syrup.  He was thinking of the girl with the pencil tucked behind her ear who smiled a kind smile as she gave him change.  Funger loved her with all his giant heart.

Then, Funger’s normally downcast eyes were ensnared by the bright colors of a new “Cheerful-Tide Brand Detergent” billboard that showed a beached mermaid frolicking in the sand under a snappy dialogue bubble:  “Improved Cheerful-Tide Super Ultra Power Plus Detergent Washes Dirt From Your Clothes. . . and Love onto Your Lonely Shores.”  Funger looked back down at his own clothes, and sighed.

As Funger shuffled up to his tiny house with the boarded windows his eyes lighted on the neighbor’s rose bush.  He glanced around, and with the seed of a good idea blooming in his heart, picked just one.  Funger’s hands were encased like sausages in soft knit gloves, making his fingers feel like they were wearing blankies. The rose’s sharp thorns barely made his fingers bleed at all. 

At home, Funger carefully sat the rose down on the kitchen table and began removing his only clothes: a rumpled pair of baggie pants, an electric orange and green sweater jacket, and his cherished soft blue shirt.  He loved them so much he had never, ever washed them.  He couldn’t afford any “Cheerful-Tide Brand Detergent” but maybe—just maybe--pure water and anti-bacterial hand soap would be sufficient.

Wearing nothing but his gloves, shoes, and stained pinstripe boxers, Funger scooped up his outerwear and took them to the washer in the basement.  “I will be so clean for her!” He dreamily squeaked.

As Funger stood anxiously watching his clothes go round and round, first in the washer, and then the dryer, he thought to himself:  “I love her.  I love her SO much!!!  And when you love someone enough, they love you back.  They have to love you back!!!”  Funger believed with his whole heart that this is how love works.

As the dryer beeped and the tumbling stopped, Funger felt his heart beat faster as he imagined himself and the girl with the pencil behind her ear holding hands as they jumped from the high dive into a tiny bucket of water.  An almost-smile rose up deep in Funger’s heart and nearly made it to his face when he saw his only clothes, horribly shrunken.

“Oh no!” Funger cried, biting his still-gloved index finger.  “Please be okay. Please be okay!!!” He prayed over and over as he hopped and wriggled into the once baggy pants, finally snapping the brass button shut.  Funger strained and pulled and got into his shirt, and then his sweater jacket, so upset he didn’t even notice how soft and warm they were.  Funger hunched in front of his dusty mirror and felt his heart sink.

“But it will be okay.”  He thought.  “Because I love her!”   Before his courage could fail him, he grabbed the stolen rose and waddled out the door as fast as his clenched pants would let him.  He felt a cold splat hit his bald spot and he looked up just in time for the clouds to break open on his upturned face.  “OH NO OH NO OH NO!!!!”  Funger squealed and rapidly shuffled down the sidewalk, trying to make it to the store before the heavy rain could spoil his silky green locks of hair and further shrink his outfit.

Funger scurried under the store awning and was greeted by his reflection in the window.   His fish-white belly lapped obscenely out between shrunken pants and shirt.  His glorious green locks were plastered to his face, and the rose-- the beautiful gift of love--was missing most of its petals.  In the rain, he couldn’t feel the tears on his face, but the ones in his heart whispered “Go home Funger.  No one could ever love someone like you.”

Soaked and cold but safe at home, Funger quietly closed the door against the driving rain.  He dug around the kitchen drawer, found a razor blade and went to the bathroom.  He got in the tub fully clothed, and started carefully scraping mildew from the tile grout onto a plate.  He put the plate in the toaster oven, and when the timer jingled, Funger finished every bit of his humble dinner alone.  

Then, still hungry, Funger sank beneath his thick, soft comforter and cried himself to sleep, where he dreamed he was a dolphin swimming with the other dolphins in the sparkling blue oceans from which both man and clown had crawled millions of years before, searching. 

Blue Goddess

 
Playful blue goddess.  As consciousness continues to evolve, so perhaps do the archetypes.  Guardian and guide to the Noosphere, is she a physical manifestation of Gaia?

She also seems to resonate with Kali Ma, the dark hindu goddess associated with, among other things, kundalini energy and transcendent reality.

 Despite the visual kinship with Medusa (whose serpents might also be seen as a nod to rising kundalni energy) the blue goddess's tentacles represent energy, or the communication web, connecting all living things.

I can't help but ponder the curious increase of the archetypal blue alien-like goddess and the association with planetary consciousness, the most overt reference in popular culture being the Navi in James Cameron's "Avatar."

This image was created with merino and corrieadale fiber on painted canvas, embellished with a ceramic kenyan bead.

Hanging On When Everything Changes

When I was asked to make a tree for a birthday present recently, the only instructions I had were "I need it by Saturday and it needs to have a lot of orange in it. The lady I'm giving it to, orange is her favorite color." 

"Do you mean orange leaves?" I asked.  "Do you have any type of tree in mind?  Is this an autumn tree, or like a little bonzai or something?"

"Don't ask me, you're the artist."  She said.  Ouch!  Pressure and responsibility, and not exactly a lot of time to come up with an idea.  And yet, just minutes later the form this custom request would take appeared crisply focused in my mind's eye.

I titled this tree "Last Leaf of the Season." The image speaks about tenacity and strength, and hanging on to the very end. The little duck looking up is about how your tenacity and strength inspires others.  "Last Leaf" is also a cute little thing, but I put 100% of my energy on making this piece as special and magical and unique as I do the more overtly esoteric "vision quest" pieces.  At 2 in the morning, felting needles flying, I was transported to places that have real seasons and could literally feel the cool autumn breeze on my skin..  I hope "Last Leaf" brings a soothing, introspective healing bit of magic into the home where it now dwells.

Things That Make it All Worthwhile

Taj hams it up for his photo shoot on my DS.

 One of the Etsy teams I belong to is dedicated to videogames.  I hadn't been very active, but decided to participate in a "Game of the Month" competition they hold.  "Diddy Kong Racing" was the month's theme, and even though not a favorite game of mine,  it was a good opportunity to connect and share with others, and to get back to  3-dimensional pop-art figurines I used to do more frequently before I branched off into tapestries. 
When I put my entry "Taj the Elephant from Diddy Kong Racing" up on Etsy, it was purchased in less than 24 hours.  The collector that purchased it was thrilled when it arrived and sent me a lovely note: 

"I LOVE that Taj elephant!!!!! It is even more awesome in person. It really is a beautiful piece of art, so happy to have for my "pop art" collection. I really enjoy looking at it. Can't wait for my 8-yr-old artsy son to see it when he wakes up."

Then later:  "My son thought Taj was awesome this morning.  On a scale of 1 to 10 he said 100,000!!! So thanks again for making such a beautiful piece of art and putting a smile on our faces. And also, the moment our dog Lila saw it, she barked and jumped with excitement because she thought it was for her!!! How cute and funny is that?"

This melted my heart.  I am generally a selfish artist, and pursue strange visions that are sometimes alienating, caring only if I achieve personal satisfaction from the process.  But Taj the Elephant was created initially to bring joy to the Diddy Kong fans in my Etsy gaming group.  It was a surprise lesson that working from an un-selfish place ended up bringing happiness to others too. 

But there's more!  The lady who bought Taj let me know how much she liked my "Sea Serpent Triptych" and wished it weren't so expensive.  We exchanged a few messages and I agreed to do a a new, smaller sea serpent for a lower price. 

It's always intimidating for me to make a custom piece on request, and the technique I use for my magical creatures (finding the shapes and features randomly in tufts of raw wool) is so different than the more concrete, controlled approach I use when re-creating videogame or cartoon characters that I was a little nervous the customer might not like the serpent in person. 

But I put my 100% effort into the new sea serpent, and sent it out into the world, hoping it would bring as much joy as Taj had done.  I should have trusted this lady's exceptional taste in art (wink wink!).  Her reaction and story brought so much joy to my day I have to share it:

"You are so awesome to make the serpent for us. We love it and now fight over positioning it! Every time I walk by I separate it out and make it curvy, then my son goes by and puts it close together and straight. Two perfectionist type A personalities-- my karma is biting me in the butt. But it is pretty funny to both of us. 

Anyways, everyone that sees the elephant and serpent love them. Thank you for the beautiful art. You are one of my favorite artists. Can't wait to see your other items you post. Later when I can shop again if you are interested I would like more custom items. Thanks again for everything!"

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to this customer for taking the time to share her experience with me.  I have aspirations (perhaps beyond my skill, and tinged with delusions of grandeur) to take textiles somewhere new, push boundaries, to explore darkness and taboo, and to develop a thematic and stylistic coherence in a collection that communicates a more complex vision of what it means to be both animal and divine.  But it was humbling to be reminded of the power of simplicity. . . that art for the sake of beauty and aesthetics--art snobs be damned--is also important and meaningful.

So many different kinds of wool in this sea serpent!





Spitbeard

"Spitbeard" here was made at the request of a dear friend, and is fully known as "Spitbeard the Trail Demon." 

A little back story:  I have made several sculptures for people of their "Inner Demon."  And by demon, I just mean the shadow self.  I feel that bringing the shadow self into the light of our 3-dimensional sensory reality through art, and embracing it and loving it, has healing power.  Spitbeard is the first time I've done this in tapestry form.

Spitbeard comes from a friend who took an epic journey: he hiked the Pacific Crest Trail.  This is no trivial little hike, but a grueling test of self that takes months of planning and preparation, traversing the entire west coast through California, Oregon and Washington, starting from the border of Mexico to the border of Canada.  I can barely fathom how much epic beauty his eyes and soul absorbed as his brutalized feet carried him and a backpack 20 plus miles a day through mountains, desert, valleys, snow.

I'm a walker, and have been since I was a small child, introduced to the pleasure of a long walk by my grandfather way back when there were still fragrant orange groves in San Bernardino county.  One thing I have come to know is that long walks are a place where you can really come face to face with your true self, dark and light. 

Spitbeard started as a painting.

When my friend came back from the Pacific Crest Trail he was literally re-entering the frantic energy of San Francisco from another planet.  He was beautiful, and at the same time, his eyes had a touch of "far away crazy". . . and his beard!  John Muir would have been proud.

My buddy has experienced some dark places, both within and without, including Iraq.  But I got the idea (though I haven't asked) that he worked through a lot of things on the trail, learning to love the shadow that walked beside him.  Right after he got back I painted what that shadow looks like to me:  a little scary, but joyously, devilishly playful and wise. 

As I've gotten deeper into creating with wool, he asked me if I could sculpt Spitbeard.  I said I would do it.  I was only doing three dimensional figurines at the time and that's how I was going to do Spitbeard.  But I never felt "moved" to do it and it got delayed and I expect he thought it wasn't going to happen.  But recently my buddy and I hung out with another friend who is a roadie for Ween, and who is the King of Beards.  It was a whiskey fueled debauch off the richter scale, but we came out of it with just what we needed to make Spitbeard into a reality.

Good times, guys.  Spitbeard knows how to party. 

Spitbeard:  seen so much, and so hardcore he got his eye pierced.

Felted Goddess Tapestry

"Obsience to Her
Who is Pure Being, Consciousness, Bliss.
As Power,
Who Exists in the Forms of Time and Space,
And All That is Therein,
Who is the Divine Illuminatrix in All Beings."
-  A Tantric Prayer


Gaia, Ishtar, Isis, Kali, Medusa.  Tree, serpent, branch, tentacle. . .brilliant web of energy permeating the universe, all forms of consciousness connected--microbial, plant, human, alien-- in a radiant sensual dance of electrons and sweat, birthing each moment of our existence.

This humble wool creation is a tribute to the power of feminine energy.





Lord Ember, Guardian of the Secret Fire

Lord Ember

 If you are the first person to wake up when camping there is a good chance you can catch a glimpse of Lord Ember, protecting that last little bit of glowing coal buried in the ashes of the previous night's revelries. 

That hot hidden ember, if carefully coaxed, can turn back into a roaring source of heat and illumination, drawing the other campers out of their tents to warm their hands and feet and enjoy a hot cup of cowboy coffee.

People, like campfires, can let their fire die, but Lord Ember casts his protection in that realm too, keeping a little spark alive inside even the most storm drenched souls.  All you need to do is find something to kindle the spirit, and with gentle stirring and fanning you might be surprised by how brilliantly your inner light can shine.