I’ll not begrudge anyone a modest embellishing of childhood’s memories as, after all, the victim is also the perpetrator, no? So it’s my turn: a melancholic oddball kid who spent much time alone in the hidden, me-sized neglected spaces beneath rafters or stairs of our Cape Code-style home I now often enjoy a wistful pang of longing for the old gal: a true fondness for how cozy and fortified that house felt on many a dark, snowy winter’s day.
So this season I’m celebrating that fine house with this paper craft homage (never thought myself the cluttered Xmas mantel, glitter “Christmas Village” sort, but there ya go: the contrary evidence beggars explanation).
Forky, the reluctant trash-craft-turned-beloved-toy and breakout star of “Toy Story 4”, is possibly the most popular Halloween costume we’ve built to date.
Our Forky is scratch built from cardboard, rattan, fleece, and 25′ of feather boa; being kid-friendly (i.e. plush & huggable whilst also being sufficiently durable) was a foundational requirement.
He’s essentially a wicker basket (woven rattan forming the spoon spork bowl “head”) atop a cardboard handle, covered in batting and ultra-soft fleece. Feather boa wrapped rattan arms plus paper maché Popsicle-stick feet are attached with a lump of fleece-wrapped spray foam insulation “clay” completing the handsome feller.
Jack Pumpkinhead debuted in L. Frank Baum’s second Oz book, “The Marvelous Land of Oz” (1904), wherein he plays side-kick to Tip, the story’s plucky young protagonist, who assembled Jack from a few sticks, a pumpkin, rummaged clothes, and a pinch of magic powder. While Jack didn’t make MGM’s casting cut, he did garner a costarring roll in Walter Murch’s 1985 Disney mishmash, “Return to Oz”.
None of that has a bearing on my costume, however, but I figured we needed to air Jack’s backstory before mostly ignoring it since, let’s face it, everyone seeing Jack Pumpkinhead rightfully assumes him to be a scarecrow. He isn’t, but let’s not get too indignant if folks assume him to be.
Once you get beyond the “why?” this is a great project, though not a fast one — one you’ll knock out over a single weekend (turns out making 60+ hollow paper maché rocks requires quite a bit of time. Who knew?)
OK, “why” isn’t an unreasonable question. Simple answer: our apartment doesn’t have a fireplace, but we always enjoying staying at cabins that do, so, yeah, we’d need to make our own. Plus, Christmas stockings are where it’s at. (why paper? Because… cheap, easy(?), and landlady would evict us if we built one of real river rock)
I’ll dispense with offering much advice, and besides, this isn’t a tutorial. This is more “what I did weekends for two months last fall” (besides, everyone paper maches differently, plus I tend to obsess — thus the photos showing numbered rocks — so you’re probably better served winging it on your own than following my lead).
I will list a few, well, not tips, but “these works for me” suggestions.
Robert Wise’s 1951 “The Day The Earth Stood Still” is a truly genre defining film, which, along with “The Thing From Another World” (Howard Hawks, 1951) and “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” (Don Siegel, 1956), established our gold standard for what smart, eerie scifi films could deliver by including healthy doses of paranoia, pleas to “act human”, and memorable villains (albeit the three films come at these problems of “visitors from outer space” from decidedly different tacks: galactic police versus deadly conquerors).
If you’ve not watched these films do so now†. With only a few hand-waving allowances required for their being 60+ years old they hold up exceptionally well, delivering creepy, noir-esque worlds, engrossing writing, effects that bear up (TDTESS’s saucer landing on Washington’s mall — yes!), and (mostly) exceptional acting — plus Bernard Hermann’s TDTESS score is instantly recognizable as how 50’s scifi should sound.
But only one, “Day The Earth Stood Still”, has a badass killer robot.
Gort.
Gort’s silent menace drivesTDTESS’s story. In fact, it’s the fear of Gort’s powers — and prevention of his executing same — that provides us cinema’s first believable robot character (OK, special allowance for Maria).
So then, here is my Valentine’s Day card tribute to our pal Gort and his not-so-easy-to-remember safe words: “Klaatu Barada Nikto”!
This “cocked hat” (aka “three cornered”, tricorn, tricorne, or colonial hat) is a fun project that you can make right now, requiring about a half hour of your time and a few supplies readily at your fingertips (scissors, glue, and paper). However, if you’d prefer a more durable chapeau — say, for Halloween, a school play, or clearly more memorable beach photos — then with a five-dollar bill and but a single trip to a hobby or fabric store you’ll have your perfect, custom lid.
Don’t know ’bout you, but I’ve never cottoned to the phrase “ice cream novelties”. Perhaps I’m a purist, but ice cream trucks circling my childhood neighborhood only carried varieties my grandparents’ generation would have recognized, truly nothing novel: your classic ice cream sandwich, bomb pops (two varieties — your patriotic, if not appropriately syrupy, red, white, and blue one and the banana, commie one), the “-sicle” family — popsicles, fudgesicles, and creamsicles (to my knowledge no one has ever eaten one of these, but it’s a surprisingly pleasant soda flavor), and those ice creams with nut encrusted brittle chocolate shells. No push-up pops, no choco-tacos, no Dora nor Ninja Turtles.
Whiled away the hours driving back to LA from Sonoma alternating between plunking the ukulele and doodling on the iPad. This odd fellar’s the result.
Here’s wishing all y’all — single, coupled, or “not sure”/”in transition” — a very happy Valentine’s Day, and remember, “no one with a musical heart is ever alone” (and “no one traveling with a ukulele player ever does so in silence”)
Note: The 5 (our lengthy freeway connecting San Diego to Seattle, always referred to as “the five”) experience, between San Jose and LA, is a stunningly uneventful stretch of freeway (though it falls far, far short of challenging the ultimate stretch of dull US freeway, that being I-70 between KC and Denver). Once you’ve made your obligatory pilgrimage to the windmill topped Pea Soup Andersen’s Restaurant (Santa Nella), ain’t much to do.
Funny how many “I knows it when I sees its” there are out there and for me, apparently, the tyrannosaurus rex would need to be included on this list. After quite a few aborted attempts here’s my updated UkeGeeks (jolly, socially-awkward ukulele playing dinosaur) mascot, affectionately known as “Scriptasaurus”, which replaces the original, a placemat doodle that never got much love.
Never fails to amaze me, the circuitous route I always follow to well known destinations (see rejects & live-sketching video below — all roads had Godzilla and Florida ‘Gators mascot shaped potholes, and I squarely hit each one). Sigh.
‘Tis the season! Idled away a pleasant afternoon sipping Jones coffee(s!!!!) and iPad-doodling Halloween songbook covers. First up is just this simple Jack-o’-lantern ghostie fan strumming her ukulele (sidebar: shortly after moving to the States a friend’s son excitedly carved his first pumpkin, only to tearfully learn that we don’t actually wear them like this).
Next we have a quite friendly vampire summoning his bat-ukulele pal (yeah, revisiting last year’s vampire bat uke illustration). Big thanks, of course, to Ludlow for suggesting the moon and wing tips (even the name’s fitting — but of course a vampire would wear ’em).
Anticipating a really great Halloween Eve uke night (so far our song list includes “People Are Strange”, the Addams Family Theme, and The Time Warp) — we’re gonna pickup a Golden Road growler of “Point the Way” IPA to fill one of these DIY pumpkin beer kegs. Awesome!
