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“You may be stuck in your costume…forever!”
“There is in all women a wild woman…“
“…a wild and ancient gypsy that cries in anguish when we starch her flat…“
“...there is a part of us that can never, ever be happy until the gypsy can dance.”
Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run with the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archtype
AROOOOO!
**howling in spirit with you at tonight’s full moon**
“Beginning is hard, but continuing is harder. Those who seek a glamorous life should not pursue art, science, innovation, invention, or anything else that needs new. Creation is a long journey where most turns are wrong and most ends are dead. The most important thing creators do is work. The most important thing they don’t do is quit.”
Kevin Ashton, How to Fly a Horse: The Secret History of Creation, Invention, and Discovery
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“It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another.”
–Mary Shelly, Frankenstein
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Happy Halloween Friends!
Hope you enjoy some spooky fun from some of my favorite creators: The Murdering Crows. This is their take on Bobby “Boris” Pickett & The Crypt Kicker’s Monster Mash.
A busy calendar and a busy mind will destroy your ability to do great things in this world.
–Naval Ravikant
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Without boredom, no creativity.
–Slavoj Zizek
I’ve been reading Women Who Run with the Wolves and gathering all my skeletal parts together to sing over them.
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Boredom always precedes a period of great creativity.
–Robert M. Pirsig
Make-it month continues.
I decided to channel my all my emo and mopey-ness into further development of the raven choreography.
I can’t remember what came first, the wings or the song. Both appeared in my life around the same time about a year ago. The wings I purchased from Polish artist Dorota D.’s Etsy store Pracownia Dor. She hand-paints these gorgeous silk wings.
The song I’m working with was originally a poem set to music in the 1700s by Swedish composer Carl Michael Bellman (Fredman’s Epistles, No. 81). I’m using the Mediæval Babes’ version of this work, Märk Hur Vår Skugga (Behold Our Shadow), which you can listen to in the video below. The lyrics set a scene in which two fellows are graveside with the deceased: a wayward, trouble-making woman. As the two men reflect on their own mortality and stare into the abyss, one wonders, ‘Who will now command the bottle? Thirsty was she, thirsty am I, we are all very thirsty.’
I also revisited Poe’s poem The Raven for a bit of Nevermore inspiration and read up on raven symbolism in Viking mythology. I played with wing configurations, geometry, and whirling. I experimented with wing and wind, shutter and flutter. I perched and sat in an attempt to capture the ghastly, grim, and ancient in movement and stillness. Then when things got too morbid and ridiculous, I squawked and flapped my wings and flew the coop.
Farm time has been sparse this month. More busy-away-things have been crammed into the days than the days can well hold. Maybe more on that later. Or maybe not.
For now one must settle for fleeting glimpses of seasonal delights…
…like caterpillars in their Halloween costumes feasting on parsley,
black pods scattered among vibrant blooms,
scarecrows, mums and pumpkins,
a glowing apparition,
and a mix of things dead, dying, and holding the seeds for new life
My Little Spacebook 