Celestial Housekeeping

Hello again! Want to meet Griselda? She comes from an old nursery rhyme.

There was an old woman . . . .

Tossed up in a basket . . .

Seventeen times as high as the moon!

And what she did there, I could not but ask it — for with her she carried a broom . . .

“Old woman, old woman, old woman,” said I, “Whither oh whither oh whither so high?”

“To sweep the cobwebs from the sky.”

“And I’ll be back again, by and by!”

I loved working on Griselda! She was so friendly and sweet and just seemed to want to come to life. I particularly enjoyed costuming her. Isn’t the fabric of her bodice and overskirt perfect for sky-sweeping? It looks like stars to me. (It used to be a necktie. I was so excited when I found it!)

And this was my first attempt at sculpting shoes. I thought they turned out pretty well!

Oh, and I made her basket too. I couldn’t find one that looked right and was small enough, so I used a little box. I glued pieces of bamboo skewers onto it and covered it with raffia. Boy did that take a long time! Who knew raffia and glue don’t play well together? But it was worth it. See? It’s not really a basket — it just looks like one from the outside.

Dearly Beloved says Griselda looks like Mother Goose, and I agree. She was clearly influenced by the cover of the Mother Goose book I had as a child. Which — now that I look at it as an adult — is kinda creepy. Mother Goose looks a lot like a witch. And I think she must have kidnapped that baby, which appears to be about to fall out of the basket! (And the goose doesn’t look all that happy either.)

4.2.7

Sheesh — I’m surprised I didn’t have nightmares. Maybe that’s why I’m afraid of heights to this day.

But Griselda would never kidnap a baby. She’s much too sweet. She just keeps things nice and tidy up in the sky.

Well that’s all for today, darlings. Ta-ta! See you next time, when I’ll bring along THREE new friends!

Aloysius Wishes

So here is Aloysius.

And I have a confession: I have no idea what he is thinking. Isn’t it funny how I make these little people, and then sometimes I don’t know things about them? I mean, it’s like having children. They come from your body, you think you know all about them, and then they learn to talk and one day out comes some idea that YOU never put in their heads! And then they start developing all sorts of thoughts and notions and observations of their own, and the NEXT thing you know they’re fully-fledged adults. And off they go, having issues and ambitions and lives of their own. I mean, really!

No, wait, how did I get off on that tangent? I meant to be telling you about Aloysius. Oh by the way, you do know how to pronounce Aloysius, don’t you? It’s Al-Oh-WISH-Us. Which is funny, because when you look at the letters it doesn’t seem like it would be pronounced that way. It looks like it should be Ah-LOY-See-Us. Or maybe Ah-LOY-Shus. But it’s Al-Oh-WISH-Us. I mean, it’s like Sean. THAT looks like it should be pronounced the same way as “seen.” But it’s not. And then there’s Wednesday. And February. And colonel. Seriously — why is it pronounced ker-nel, and not col-oh-nel? And asthma. And receipt. And miscellaneous. And hyperbole. Don’t even get me STARTED on hyperbole!

No, no wait! I really did mean to be telling you about Aloysius. But my thoughts kept wandering off in different directions. So anyway, he was another intuitive one, like Bernard. I didn’t really have a particular image in my head when I started sculpting. I just kinda let him emerge. He has really big feet because I was hoping he would be able to stand on his own, but he’s just too top-heavy, so I ended up having to attach him to a stand.

His hands are clasped behind his back, which made costuming him pretty challenging, because I had to construct his clothes right on his body. Obviously, he couldn’t put his arms through the sleeves, right?

And he came out looking all dreamy, like he’s wishing for something. Or maybe he’s remembering something nice. Or I don’t know — maybe he’s just letting his thoughts wander.

Which is a really strange phrase, when you stop to think about it. Letting one’s thoughts wander. Like they’re separate from one’s self and can just move around at will. I mean, thoughts originate in your head, right? So how could they just wander off? Where would they go? It’s not like they’re livestock. It makes sense that a cow or something might wander off . . . the cow might be looking for food . . . which reminds me, I need to go to the grocery store  . . . I wonder what we should have for dinner tonight . . .  maybe spaghetti . . .  now see? Spaghetti’s another weird word . . .

Cedrick and Hasenpfeffer Take The Air On A Fine Summer Morning and Miss Virginia Learns a Lesson

Hello again everyone! Ready to meet my next new friend? Actually, there are two of them: Cedrick and Hasenpfeffer. They’re so happy to be out walking together on a fine summer morning!

Cedrick is a medieval dandy. See his parti-color stockings? And the oh-so-stylish pointed toes on his shoes?

Would you look at that expensive medallion? And my dear, aren’t the hanging sleeves on his silken tunic just to die for?

And he’s gone and braided silk scarves over the chaperon and liripipe on his head! Look, the liripipe is so long he’s tucked it into his belt!

Quite the popinjay, that Cedrick.

Hasenpfeffer doesn’t care about fashion, though. He’s just happy to be out for a walk.

(I have no idea what kind of a beast Hasenpfeffer is. Nor do I know why Cedrick named him something so hard to spell!)

I was so pleased with this piece when I finished it. I enjoyed making the base, with its dirt path and little summer flowers.

But uh-oh. Guess what? Cedrick taught me something really important. See this?

It’s a crack in the clay at his ankle. Turns out I didn’t make his internal wire armature strong enough to support him — especially since he was balancing on one leg. After I finished him, Cedrick began to lean over. More and more and more. And the crack got worse and worse. Until it was a complete break.

And poor Cedrick looked like he’d had w-a-a-a-a-a-y too many at the village tavern.

Oh Cedrick, I’m sorry. I feel terrible.

So I put his other leg under him, and now he stands up straight again (more or less). And judging from his expression, he seems to have retained his happy outlook on life.

But his poor ankle is still broken.

So since then, I’ve been making my armatures much, much stronger!