Inspirations and Oddities - Second Friday Post - April 13th, 2018

Does Friday the thirteenth mean anything to you?

While that particular superstition holds little meaning for me, I did grow up with a whole host of little self-created superstitions, mostly rituals and to keep my young self safe from the things that went "bump in the night'. Especially when watching scary movies. I'd lay on the couch, completely wrapped in one of my grandmother's crocheted afghans, no part of my body other than my head exposed. At commercial breaks, IF I wanted to get up for a snack, I had to be back on the couch and fully covered when the movie resumed . . . or else!!!

 I look back now at them all with a sense of nostalgia. The power of the mind, the strength of a young spirit to fight the unseen in the shadows and to believe he could prevail.

From those days forward, I have always been a lover of folklore, superstitions urban legends and strange beliefs.

The last year or so, it's been a blast diving into the world building of writing a fantasy book that allows me to create some of my own folklore for the world of the Bewildering Pine. Beyond that, for me, the real treat has been uncovering the folklore and superstitions of other cultures as I've taken that dive in again through reading and research.

A few of the things I've unearthed that have stuck with me are:

Celtic:

The plainest girl will be beautiful if she rises early on May Day and bathes her face in morning dew at sunrise. 

Estonian:

Frost is regarded as an ill spirit named Morozco and frost-cracks or breaks in a tree are attributed to him. The cracking sound is the snapping of his fingers!

Romani:

A moth hovering around a candle flame, means a letter will arrive in the morning. 

Scandinavian:

The new Year was an auspicious time for healing. Deemed the "seam of the year" it was considered the best time for ritual curatives. 

Do YOU have any favorite folklore or  old beliefs you love?


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Inspirations and Oddities!!!

I couldn't choose a single story or video that captures the whole idea but, in Catalonia Spain, they participate in these amazing festivals. 

"A person dressed as a demon shoots off fireworks during a correfoc, meaning "fire-run," a traditional party in which participants dress as evil mythical creatures and delight in wild pyrotechnic displays."



> I stumbled upon this inspiring sculpture and in-progress making-pics. AMAZING!

Big Fish!



> I LOVED this article and the accompanying images of

"Flying Foxes"



> And finally, I'm looking VERY much forward to the release today of Netflix new Sci-Fi-Fi series, "Lost in Space", a reimagining of the late great 60's show ( who could ever forget the guitar playing robot!) .  I got to watch the original in syndication over the years of my childhood and it inspired many wonderful adventures and one or two cardboard box, Jupiter 2's.

I'm hoping to be taken away yet again with the new series. . . and without seeing anything more than the trailer. . . Parker Posey in the role of Dr. Smith???!!! COME ON! That alone makes me quite happy.   Looking forward to starting the adventure this evening!

I hope YOUR week has been inspired and at least a little odd!

Nicolas
xo

Magick! New Work - First Friday Post - March 2nd

Hey everyone!

A week to go before I leave for my cross country train trek! Just going to stick to new things for this post, new work and few notes to share.

First, I am finally going to be getting my Instagram up and running. I have made the switch to an iPhone and the app loaded. I wanted to try and make it happen through my iPad but it was just not working out and then, as if by fate, my old flip phone dies. Luckily we had a spare, older version of an iPhone laying around here from the last time Sophie upgraded hers sooooo Yay!

I'll keep you posted and/or come find you when I get the first post up there!

For now, here's a sample of some of the newest work from the last month. Enjoy!!


I've been a lover of magick and ATW (that's All Things Witchy) since childhood. It comes and goes but it's really strong right now for some reason. . .

I got to thinking that Magick might be a fine theme for March, especially for my inspirations and oddities post later this month. So I want to present a selection of new work that really speaks to that part of me and the child within!



Let's start with Anubis or Anpu, one of the most magical of all the ancient Egyptian deities to me. I think of Him as more a guardian through transitions and change rather than an underworld figure.

I've been working on a series of bust icons recently and this is the Anubis / Anpu version. 

Tiny scenes never disappoint when it comes to inspiring magick! I am looking forward to making more detailed scenes like the large cliff tower that I showed last month and this smaller N scale one I wanted to feature this month. 

N Scale Tower on a Cliff

Gargoyles. . . oh they took my breath away as a child! I want to expand my gargoyle universe in 2018.  I was recently reading about "get lost" boxes which are a form of old traditional magick.  In days gone by, you might put a representation of the thing you wish to be rid of in a special box and bury it at a crossroads. I decided it would be soooo much better to have a gargoyle keep it for you and watch over it.  This guy comes with his own little box and tiny slips of paper for you to write what you'd like to rid yourself of down and let him do the rest.  Names are VERY important in both Gargoyle society AND Magick. . . His name is Baztertu, a Basque word for banish.

I am SO excited about expanding my gargoyle world!

 After not having made mini Moai statues for some time I got back into them this month. I sold a half dozen I think and am really enjoying working with them again. They have a certain Magick to them as well, these sentinels of Rapa Nui (Easter Island) and yes, as a child I made these out of bunches of aluminum foil too! : )

I love old world architecture. Especially European and Medieval architecture. I don't usually make very many buildings that are true to those aesthetics but when I do, I always find them to have a bit of that elusive Home Magick in them. . .  or Inn Magick as it may be!

A dear customer requested a red and gold Sekhmet Lioness statue. Why not? I LOVE how She turned out and this Lady of Light is even more fiery in these colors! I stumbled upon that Golden-finish freshwater pearl in my bits and bobs and it was the perfect topper for her headpiece.

This Sekhmet feels VERY fiery to me! 

Little shoppes are potential magnets for odd fee, gnomes and the strangest of Magical items! 

Description from this listing is below:

Owned and operated by Myrrea Plumgeisse, an ageless and well-travelled gnomess and lover of all manner of things arcane and strange, the Quill and Ink shoppe provides the folk of the Pine wth a variety of implements and supplies for all their letter writing, scroll making and wax seal needs.

These include many curiosities and ephemera associated with magical use of paper and ink to peruse.

Folks in the Pine speak with joviality and awe of the uniqueness of Myrrea's vast collection of supplies, from the vials of natural ground pigments for inks that are mined from the Little Rock Hills to the large, handcrafted cabinet of curiosities which contains 48 drawers each with a plethora of various quills, nibs, grinding stones and blotters.

Folk love to browse the handmade paper section which includes sheets made from local plants like Geminanna or Wallroot for spell casting or the ever popular meadow lace leaf paper which is used as a healing device. If one places a tiny slip of it upon the tongue, it removes the symptoms or ailments that were written upon it as it dissolves.

Don't miss the special inks made from grinding up the Mood Sphere's of Tolos. Little smooth, round black stones which, when ground, create an ink that changes color when the paper it is written upon is held in the hands.

Of course, there are the less fantastic of supplies such as quills fashioned from the feathers of the Pine’s birds, an array of sootstone and many carry satchels for the most important of writings.

You’ll find a few other bits and bobs around the shops counters that have little to do with the written word but are just as enticing!  All throughout the Pine there are many folk who drop by the diminutive Quill and Ink shop just to say hello and take a gander at what Myrrea has brought back from her latest travels and adventures.

One of her best known sayings, when folk ask why she does not refer to the shoppe as a “Stationary Shoppe” is, “My dears, there is simply nothing stationary about the written word and what it can do!”


And one last one for March, a very special little Faery Windmill upon a Star!

Fashioned after a windmill found in Estonia I believe but I m not sure. . .

Thank you for dropping by and have a MaGiCkAl DAY!!! ;)

nicolas

Nostalgia #1

Hello Everyone!!

I know I missed my usual posting on Friday. I am less than two weeks away from my train trip across the country to visit my mom and I just couldn't fit in a post before the weekend with all the encroaching deadlines.

Instead, today I am going to put up the first post of a series I have been thinking about for some time, which will be called, simply, "Nostalgia".

It's been inspired by my childhood days and experiences, of course.

While I have already detailed a good bit  of the inspiration that came thru those years, all of which are part of my creative life now, there remains a lot that I do not often talk about.  Maybe because they are smaller events that seem less important or just negative things I would rather just leave behind but as I get older i realize that they all have played their part. All need to be honored for how they've shaped me. And some are just little pieces, glimpses and fragments of the whole that I never want to lose. . .

As you might expect, a trip home is fraught with memories, old patterns and sights and sounds. Being in the house/yard/woods/neighborhood where so much of who I am was formed is both a joy and also a melancholy time

So at random times, often between  Fridays,  I will post little bits and bobs of those days. I'll try to warn you when it is going to deal with the dark times, not that there were that many, This will, I suppose, be a selfish record of things I never want to forget and many that I have never before written down.

Nostalgia #1

My Winter Olympics

In the years between 10 and 16 I really only had two friends who I played with on a regular basis. I'll talk about them another time. One of them still lives down the street from my mother and seeing him each year is a chance to revisit some of those good times we shared from the past.

But much of my time then, even with two good friends, was spent alone.

In truth, it was preferred. There were so many ideas. games, stories in my head that I knew no-one else would understand or add anything to if I tried to include them.

One of those exploits was my love of the winter olympics. I could not get enough of the wonder of nations from all over the world coming together and competing in events that were so wonderfully strange to me. Luge, bobsled, biathlon, speed skating, etc We all knew about ice hockey and downhill skiing of course. I was 10 the year the olympics were held in Lake Placid, NY. The US hockey team's "Miracle on Ice" is, of course, the prevalent memory of those games for most of us in this country. But what the entire olympic spectacle inspired was a series of years, snow days permitting, where I recreated the Olympics in my back yard. I won't go into too much detail but it was one of those things that I just had to do alone.

What I remember most of about it to this day is that I took an entire day as the snow fell to make small, paper flags of all the countries for my "luge" event. I drew them with markers I think.  I had an old encyclopedia that had all the flags of the world (one of my favorite things to look at as a child!) and I meticulously tried to do them justice with my paper and markers. Then they got wrapped around craft sticks. I made medals out gold and silver foil.  I was ready.

The "luge" was just on an old red flyer wood sled. The "track" was hardly dangerous or Olympian by any standards. . . a gently sloping hill, maybe 60 or 70 yards in total length from the back porch of our home, down across a concrete lot and then a final dip down a hill past the neighbors house.

Instead of timing the sled runs for speed, I was trying to see how far I could get the sled to go.
The last ten yards or so the sled would slow to a crawl, the weight of my body the only thing pushing it forward until it came to a crunching stop in the snow.

The little flag representing the country I had just pretended to be representing would be stuck in the ground where the front of the sled ended up. Then I'd get up off the sled, haul it back up the gentle slope and do it all over again. Dozens upon dozens of times. With the exception of a rare misstep out of the "starting gate" most of the trips ended up in a very small area, within two feet of each other. Mere inches separating the best from the worst of the runs.

I can still recall, vividly, the feeling of the falling snow in my face as I went along and the internal "broadcast" of the announcers that I ad libbed in silence.

I made dozens of runs and, as the track iced over, it DID become little faster and more fun.

When it ended, I would go inside have a medal ceremony and return the next day for "ice" hockey or biathlon (FYI, plastic bb's are NOT going to be accurate in 20mph whipping, winter winds!) and some events, downhill skiing and speed skating, I had an old Atari Game system to play those out on when it got too dark outside.

The feeling I get when I think of those days is both precious and bittersweet.

I played so many games like that and I'll talk about them more in future Nostalgia posts. I just preferred those solo hours.

I still do in many ways.

When I created the "My Antarctica" photo series a few years back, those memories of cherished events and a few stark turning points from childhood were the impetus for a number of the images.

Most of those, I have never shown, including this one below which was inspired by those childhood Winter Olympics. . .

And while there were many bad moments as well, I never hesitate to say that, given the offer, I would not hesitate to forfeit up a year of my life to go back and live one day in that time (minus the negatives of school, family arguments etc) :)

When I go home, I try. A little at least. So much of it has changed, especially the outdoor landscape. But I still find that if I am very quiet and open. . . it comes back to me.

Thank you for reading!

nicolas

Inspirations and Oddities - October 13th

This is the first edition of my Second Friday blog posts.  In these I'll be posting links to what inspires me and my work. Blog posts, Wikipedia pages, imagery, books etc etc

So without any delay, here is this month's entry on "Inspirations and Oddities"

*****


"I’ve written in other venues about the “thrill of the hunt.” And by that, I mean the hunt for that one back issue of a comic series you loved, that old album by the band you loved, or that out of print book by that author you loved. These “hunts” were a big part of my youth, and the very concept is gone now. Everything is easily found on the Internet with a few keystrokes."  -  Monte Cook

The world is filled with inspiring and amazing things to take in. As a child those discoveries led to the worlds of my imagination. We didn't have everything at our fingertips and, as Monte suggests in that quote above, it is now common to find almost anything within moments on the internet. But is that true? I really think there are still untold worlds to discover. Pinterest, for all of it's amazing possibility, seems to narrow the treasure trove based on algorithms that they think shows us what we want to see when beyond those first pages of results one finds a world deeper than the most favorited or popular of images.  Instead, it's when I choose an image, then look at it's similar images and then pick one, repeating the process a half dozen times that I finally come upon something I really want.

I have to dig, search, follow trails and spend time to get there. The best of what is out there is often not found on page one of my search results but buried in the depths.

My news feed is devoid of the glut of negative world events but loaded with National Geographic, Scyfy, Smithsonian etc. I'll download a dozen previews on Ibooks just hoping to find that one self-published or lesser known gem. I want the mystery, the new, the inspiring and the possible.

What I am saying I guess is that I am not certain the thrill of the hunt had been totally removed. . . just that the means to enjoying it are changing with technology. What I worry about is that the DESIRE for the hunt is being lost with the ease modern technology provides.

These days I compare the internet to taking pre-arranged travel tours. Back when I used to travel in my early 20's. I usually had a departure and return date and then filled the between with whatever I was inspired to do or see that day. I only took one arranged, group tour, and that was of Greece and Turkey because it allowed for seeing 5 of the Greek islands and a much desired stop in the ancient ruins of Ephesus. While the entire group often went everywhere together, taking in all of the exact same locations, restaurants and sights, I always set off on my own to find the out of the way places and local cafes.

In Ephesus as they took in all the planned sights along the ancient streets, I spent my time there sitting on the actual communal benI walked along the streets following the wagon and chariot ruts cut into the heavy stone over their ages of use.

In Greece, at the temple of Poseidon, the group all took the usual photo op and hurried out of the wind down to the gift shop while I stood alone facing that stiff wind overlooking the Aegean sea and tried to imagine what it was like to stand at that temple when it was in it's prime.  In Delphi, when they ran off to lunch and gift shopping, I wandered down to the temple of Athena where we had spent all of 10 minutes as a group, so that I could sit there alone and imagine myself coming to Delphi though the olive groves of the valley below, hoping to receive the oracle's wisdom. . .

The whole trip went like that and every time we reconvened on the bus or at the hotels, I'd be asked all sorts of questions about where I went and what I did. Where I ate. What I saw. As if I was on a different tour! 

All I did was go off on my own and explore. . . that's what it takes today to find the "treasures". 

In this monthly post, I hope to share a bit of it with you. :)

Hoping you'll find a little inspiration here! PLEASE feel free to send me links to what inspires YOU! Let's help each other in that hunt for the unusual and the treasures of the internet!

xo

Nicolas

*****

I use the word paracosm a lot. It perfectly describes my childhood experiences in imagination and also what I strive for daily as an adult. I'm definitely in the world of my making more than not which leads to being a pretty blissed out guy.  I am often asked "Are you ever in a bad mood?" and, of course, the answer is yes. I'm human (really, I AM!) But the smiling face people see most of time is DIRECTLY related to my paracosms and the world I dwell in most of the time.

Much of the outside world is not allowed in. No horrors of the news, no clocks, phone on silent always, no pop-ins from other people. I put strong boundaries around it to keep it safe and it pays off. I get to create, imagine and invent each and every day with little interruption.

Four years ago, one of my favorite bloggers, Andrea over at Falling Ladies created this blog post:

Paracosm  - In the four years since I have returned to that post time and again for a bit of inspiration and just for the magic of the world Andrea hints at there. Often I am hoping to find more of it somewhere that I did not see before. . . that's the power of magic! Thank you Andrea!

Here are a few more for this month:

The Hermit Monks of Karouliya - I needed a remote, hard to access setting for the "monks" of my world. But my world is not very vast and is self contained sooooo . . . this post inspired me greatly. The website, though loaded with active content and ads that sometimes frustrates me and my laptop, is alike a random WOW generator! I go once a month and find at least two or three things in our world that I never knew existed.

The Hama Water Wheels - How about water wheels for moving water in a tech challenged world? I'm a visual person and while I could see waterwheels in my mind quite easily it was nothing as grand as these gasp-worthy structures dating to the Byzantine world.

The Singing Tree  - Need an inspiration for a truly new musical "instrument" or ancient mystery? Oh, it's out there!


And a monthly Book Suggestion too!

I just finished listening to Neil Gaiman read his "The Ocean at the End of the Lane." I'm neither a fan nor a critic of Gaiman's work. It's hot or cold for me. I love some, can't get thru a few chapters of others, but this story may be one of my all time favorites. It's really about that struggle between the worlds of childhood and adulthood and every bit of it is magic. Both Sofie and I agreed that it sounds "true". Like there is no part of it that you can't imagine being possible.  And of course I identify totally with the boy in the story. I was that boy. I had magical encounters of my own and I often returned to them time and again when life seemed overwhelming.  they remain like polestars to me today.

Magic IS everywhere and I just need that reminder sometimes.

Turning a Page

Hello everyone!

So, I just wanted to give you all a quick update on something exciting as it pertains to my blog!

I have struggled for years to find a rhythm with keeping my blog active.  I kept wanting to discover some magic structure that will allow me to be more regular and offer more of what is going on in the creative world around me.

With the wealth of new projects, ideas, undertakings etc, I have once again allowed my posting here to slip and I want to change that going forward.

So here is what is happening. . .

I am pledging to post each and every Friday of the month. To try and make this a reality, I am going to give each Friday of the month a "theme".

Starting with October, (my favorite time of the year), I will be offering posts on the following general topics based on the number of the Friday of the month.

1st Friday of Each Month - New work. This will not just be newly finished creations but I a peek into the actual making of one of those new items each month. From start to finish. Photos, materials, techniques etc.


2nd Fridays - Inspirations and Oddities - Links and topics that I've come across that inform my work, my writing and just my insatiable curiosity for the strange and wonderful in the world we live in, past or present, and beyond. Research is a big part of my creative world and I can think of no better way to stir that "making pot" than to share those things I've found.

3rd Fridays - The Maker-of-Things -  a look into how I got "here", from an over-reaching teenage dreamer to being a full time creator.  So, snippets of those early childhood memories, the long and winding road of experimentation and failure along the way and all of the other creative ventures I tried and moved on from.  Plus some all-around advice for creating a life that supports living as a creative soul and working maker. This will be only my experience so it will not resonate for some, I know, but I think it worth expressing to hopefully help those who wish to follow in those creative footsteps.

4th Fridays - The World of Bewilder and Pine! - Many of you know that I have been focused on writing a novel and short stories centered around the world I created, the Bewildering Pine. So these 4th Friday posts will offer small peeks into that world. Details about the folk, the place, the history etc. Where these things come from in me and where I'd like to see them go in the future. Eventually, maybe early next year, I'll even offer snippets from the book itself as it moves forward.

5th Fridays, on the rare occasion it happens, well, we shall see!

Hoping Autumn is shining in your worlds!
Thanks for coming along for the ride. . .

nicolas

Musings from a Timeless Journey #2

Another little tale from my recent cross-country train trip home.


Well—this sort of thing doesn't happen every day. . .

When I was a child, my mother and I would go every Saturday to a newsstand in a neighborhood close to ours. Some of you may not know or remember the phenomenon that was a true newsstand. That's where you went for local and national newspapers, all your magazines, tobacco, the candy counter, little toys and games and, my only cares as it related to that time period, weekly comics and Topps baseball/football/hockey trading cards.

So, every week we would get in the car and go and I would comb the comic racks for the newest Richie Rich or Archie comics. Then at the counter, whatever sports season it was, I got a couple of packs of the trading cards. In later years I branched out into a few superhero comics and the assorted horror comics too.

Those Saturday morning runs, followed by the endless hours reading and flipping cards with friends over the weekend, they remain such bright spots in my memories.

The second day I was home on my recent trip, my mother said "You know that newsstand we used to go to? It's still there."

Wait, what? A newsstand still running in this day and age?

And she told me it was still owned by the same man who we'd see there each week almost 40 years ago.

"OK, sooooo why are we still sitting here talking?"

Within minutes we were on our way.

Now, the entire area looks so different. So much so that I hardly remembered it at all. We drove down the street slowly and exchanged comments like:
"Oh that's where the old deli used to be"
"Remember the little theater that was there?"
"I think that used to be Rupp's Hockey store."
"Remember the old lady with the librarian glasses and too much perfume that hugged you every time I took you in that clothing store?"

Oh do I. . .I smelled like that gardenia perfume all day Saturday back then.

The old store facades are gone, re-plastered to make them more "modern" — but that must have been in the 90's because they look rather dated now. lol

We found a place to park out front and walked in.

(Enter the sound of the Dr Who tardis here)

Inside, it is the same place. I immediately recognized the man behind the counter and he, in turn, recognized my mother and then, me as well. I was distracted. Something was pulling at me, asking to be noticed but, before I could focus on what it might be, the man spoke

"You were this tall last time I saw you!" he said, holding his hand halfway up his chest.

We laughed and I said we'd come to revel a bit in those old days. Did he have any comics? Or baseball cards?

"Sure sure" right where they always were. Do you remember?"

Of course I did.

I found my way thru the mass of toys hanging from the ceiling and past the assorted t-shirts and racks of cards and books. There! Just as he said. I walked up to the comic racks and I immediately knew what it was that was pulling at me. just a few minutes earlier.

Everything in the store. Save for the daily local paper and the Times, was old — sorry, vintage.

The comics were from the same era of my childhood. Not some of them. ALL of them. Maybe a few Buffy's from the 90's or Transformers form the early oughts. I felt a little dizzy. Could this be? I took my time and went thru them thoroughly, selected a few and then I walked back up to the counter where the Topps sports cards had always been. There were packs of cards, Baseball, football and hockey, just as always, but they too were vintage! Unopened and intact. 25 to 30 year old pink bubblegum slabs still inside them. I quickly dated them by the notices on the pack like, Win a Trip to see your team at Spring Training 1987. Complete details inside.

Whoa! What?

Everything was the same. The shoppe is a jumble of toys, games, little gifts, sports memorabilia and the assorted magazines comics and miscellaneous. My mother said even the regular magazines were from years past.

Now, I am assuming the candy and snacks were not so old but. . . .

I grabbed a handful of comics and cards and went to the counter.  I think I was still trying to process it.

 "I can't believe you have these." I said, pushing the stack of cards across the counter.

"Takes you back huh?"

"I'll say. I am so glad we came up here today."

"Me too. Always good to see folks from the old neighborhood. Not many of us left these days"

We spoke of the changes and laughed about small details lost to time. He told us that he'd just signed another one year lease so he'll be there if I go home again next year.

We drove home and I opened some of the cards and saved some for my old childhood friend who still lives near my mother. That night I leafed thru the comics and tried to imagine what the odds were that any store would have such items after so many years.

I also wondered if anyone else appreciated the absolute magic of that shoppe. The portal it presents to another time and place. I half expected to walk out the door and be back in the 80's!

I couldn't have dreamed up a more fitting experience to have on this trip. Much of the time spent home is invested in nostalgia and requires memories and imagination. THIS was like an immersive experience and one I am sure that I will carry for some time to come.

Small Magic - In the Details

My dear blog friend Andrea, at Falling Ladies, has begun a monthly collection of stories and experiences of what she has termed as "Small Magic". You can find this month's post by Andrea by clicking HERE

And the original "Finding Small Magic" Post on her Falling Ladies blog is HERE:

I hope you will take a moment and check them out, add your own (even just a link to a picture or a sentence or two is PLENTY! It need not be as wordy as I tend to be. :)

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Hi all!

I am just a day from leaving on my cross country train excursion to visit mom, and "home", though I sometimes struggle to call it such. I struggle because I have not lived there in over 20 years. Not in the state and not in the house I mostly grew up in.

And I can write this because I know that my mother understands what I am about to tell you.

Home is not just found in the place or the time spent. It is in the details.

The house remains the same, mostly. The rooms, the lot size etc. But all of the details. . . the small magic. . . is mostly gone. The small magic that I now know, made it "home" for all those formative years. Made it a place that, no matter what life in the outside world brought, I could retreat and get lost in the small magic that abounded there.

Small magic that was found in:

The bird feeder my grandmother stocked daily for her assorted feathered friends.
The hand-laid cobblestone road, now paved over with black, ugly asphalt.
The old recliners my grandparents sat in.
The little decorations and extra touches they had added all through the house over the years
The trees: Peach, apricot, plum, blue spruces lining the driveway. . . all gone.
The flowers I planted and tended to for my grandmother or, as my grandfather and I called her, "The Boss", year in and year out.
The stone birdbath which was a joy to watch all year long, even when it froze in winter and we'd poke a hole in it to allow the birds to find water!
The old toolbox in the "junk room", which was my great grandfather's, and had been hand-built.
The gravel lot (the neighbor's property actually) where epic stickball, nerf football and street hockey games were played and where a lot of skin got left behind over the years.
The old TV shows, the old tv (with rabbit ears when you had to actually GET UP to change a channel!!)
The flagstones out the back door that moles found their way beneath and dug their maze of tunnels each year.
The tree house
The ivy covered hillsides along the driveway.
Worn patches of grass in the uneven back yard from wiffle ball
The old red wooden sled in the garage
The old stereo
The simple feeling of timelessness and possibility and love that you can't define, but know it when you feel it.
All the smells of my grandparents cooking, old family recipes, 7 day candles burning, chocolate making and canning all summer and fall.

Maybe most of all, the possibilities of endless days of discovery. All those little trinkets and treausres tucked away over the years in the basement, in the sewing room, in the garage or that junk room, in the piles of boxes, that I would unearth in my childhood adventures and marvel at.

All of it gone. . .

Now, I do still find a lot of little things here and there. And I have, I know,  a keen imagination that allows me to suspend time even in the absence of such things and transport myself back there again and again. But, in truth, it is easier with physical distance. I actively seek the spirits of the past out when I am there. I open myself to that little boy and invite him in and, he DOES show up here and there. But it is often fleeting. My mother, you see, is very much a "here and now" type person, and understandably in her 80's, there is much to worry about I suppose. But I have never been a worrier to any great degree. Life drops what it will in our laps and reality is, as I have learned and proven time and again, very much a creation of choice, circumstance and attitude.And worrying never seemed to be successful at staving those incidents off or prepared one for them to any great degree.

Don't misunderstand. . . I adore seeing my mother and the fact that my coming there, cooking for her and connecting again makes her whole year is enough, truly, to say that it is worth going back. . . but it just is not the same for me. I'm just being honest.

So I will take those moments as I can find them over the next two weeks and try to fill them with whatever magic remains there. I'll try to find the small details, even if they are only in imagination and memory now. . .and I try to create new ones too or rediscover old ones that even I may have forgotten. . . and those are treasures, to be sure.

Since it is February, I am hoping for a real honest to goodness snowfall.
Maybe a few moments of that magical "time travel."
A little childhood inspiration. . . and most of all, just a touch of the innocence from that time.

Mostly though, I suppose I will be counting the hours til I can return to the reality we have created here. Where magic is the rule and not the exception 7 days a week. Where the outside world rarely encroaches or is allowed in. Where my heart soars with every new turn of the page, even the messy ones. . . and where that little boy finds small magic in every thing he creates, day in and day out. :)

See you all in a few weeks.

nicolas

PS, since I will not be able to post a new work post on the first, below is something I just completed for a custom request. A statue of Ereshkigal, a Sumerian deity that I had never made before. With all the details left to me, I pulled from several of her ancient incarnations including her association with having inspired Hecate (thus the owls) and her role in the underworld.

This work I do, I realize, is a perfect blend of adult/little boy. I "play" often and in turn, am fortunate enough to be able to navigate the adult world of expenses/bills from the work I do as well.

It's a far cry from legos and play dough eh? But the root inspiration, interest and exploration are very much the same as they were all those years ago.

Small Magic - Nostalgia

My dear blog friend Andrea, at Falling Ladies, has begun a monthly collection of stories and experiences of what she has termed as "Small Magic". You can find this month's post by Andrea by clicking HERE

And the original "Finding Small Magic" Post on her Falling Ladies blog is HERE:

I hope you will take a moment and check them out, add your own (even just a link to a picture or a sentence or two is PLENTY! It need not be as wordy as I tend to be. :)

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If you've been following my blog or visiting my shoppes on Etsy over the years, you probably are aware that i am a huge fan, and a fierce protector, of the notion of nostalgia. While my childhood was far from perfect and we all tend to gloss over some of the not-so-great aspects of  our lives, I think many people have a tendency to drift, for one reason or another, back to the past. Especially as we get older. 

For some it's childhood, for others it's college or the early years of their own children's lives. But it seems that, in one way or another, we all tend to find those spaces in the past where we can safely dwell for whatever personal reasons. 

Now, when that nostalgia revolves around childhood. . . well, many adults seem to leave it completely behind or, at the very least, rarely speak about it in and among their adult lives. You may see signs of it in someone's doll collection or Teddy bear Hug. Or in the way they interact with their own children during playtime or in creative endeavors. 

I never let go of that past and I am thankful, every day, that I didn't lose sight of it. 

To be completely honest, most of my life I lived with a foot in two worlds. That of the adult world around me and that of the world of my imagination and childhood. The struggle to maintain both led to a lot of frustration and misunderstandings among friends and family who could not see that I just was not cut out for the "adult" world. I needed every spare hour for my imagination and it was a very solitary pursuit for the most part. I made bad decisions. I tried to reconcile the two worlds in so many ways but, in the end, I always felt that the magical/childhood part of me was suffocating in the adult world. 

Then, after an accumulative series of events, I decided that it was time for a leap of faith. I was going to have to open myself up to the possibilities and ask for guidance as I threw myself and my world completely into the pot. All or nothing. Sink or swim. Betting on childhood, imagination and nostalgia over the adult world I had come to loathe.  Now, don't get me wrong, please, there are people who thrive in the adult world and I am  ever so grateful for them because someone has to keep our world running. . . it just couldn't be me anymore. 

I could tell you a dozen stories of what now seem like moments and instances when "angels" appeared, all within months, to be my guiding lights along the way. I also met Sofie who, without fail, has been the only person I have known in my adult life who didn't ask me to balance the two worlds or question my draw to the past, even though hers was a different experience. Despite that, she reveled in my memories , stories and dreams and explored them WITH me. With complete acceptance. We made the break together. And we changed our entire lives from top to bottom to suit the new life we wanted to have. We didn't expect that the world would accommodate our dreams without being willing to change along with it.

Around that same time as I was in the midst of creating what would become the building blocks of the reclusive, creative world we dwell in now, and of the work you see here that I create, the ghosts of Christmas past came to call. I stumbled upon something that I have held to as being a source of inspiration and light ever since.

During a random internet search laced with nostalgic ideas I found that, not far from where I grew up, there was man in his late 60's who had created a website for the history of little Christmas Putz Houses. Those glittery, magical, cardboard houses many of us remember form under our family trees in childhood. The history of them is fascinating but what I was taken by was that this man, and his love for these houses, was a clear channel to and from his childhood. That he REVERED that time and those memories and that he had found a way to keep it close and invest himself within his passion for it so late in life. 

It was a deeply appreciated thread for me to reach out and hold to.  

And the first thing I read from that web site was this:

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"There is but a very brief window in early childhood for many of us, a period of time that lasts from birth until we are cast from the nest and into school. A time when all about the world is new and good. A time when we are open. A time when we take things in so deeply that they will form us ever after. So we imprint upon the Christmas of that time, and what that was is what it will be for us always. 

I think that is what collecting is all about, especially for those who collect for LOVE and not for sterile speculation. 

This is true of most of the toys and trappings of the holidays. 

Artifacts. 

Actual tangible contact with our own past.

It is true that we forget nothing. The power that an object unseen in decades can have to transport us in mind and spirit back to a specific period or moment of our lives - to unlock long-closed doors in the mansion of our memory - is the true value that it has. We can hold such an object in our hands and know those times were real and welcome back whole parts of who we were into who we are - and let the inner child in each of us out once again to play - to live as part of us and and help us see again through our own "Magic Window"  

You will find that those old objects will take you back in time, but NEVER listen to those sad fools who say that you are "living in the past." We are what we are because of our pasts. Would that we could live in the past at will or at least visit from time to time. But we can bring  those things forward, to live within us as we face the uncertainty of the present and the future. 

Those pasts informed everything that we know so never be ashamed of your nostalgia . . .it was, and is, your reverence for the life you had, the path that you have traveled. -T.H. "Papa Ted" Althof

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Sadly, as a second wake-up call, I soon discovered that Ted Althof was dying, having been diagnosed with cancer just as I was diving in to his website in 2009. I'd never really put ityself in mortality's shoes before that. I always had time. Lots of time I thought. Angels, and small magic, really do come in many, many complex forms. 

What I am left to say is this: I wouldn't dream of asking anyone to be anything other than what and who they are. BUT if  this holiday/yule/solstice season you find yourself feeling silly for daydreaming of the best of your memories as a child, or your best memories WITH a child, please embrace it fully instead. We can't actually go back, I know, but allow yourself that time, that place and those memories to come back in a quiet hour. Indulge them fully. I can't say they'll lead you to a life path like mine but they WILL fill you with a bit of small magic and wonder again. And you might just find that today does not have to be so far from that wonderful memory of yesterday.

Have a wonderful and magical season wherever you are and find that SMALL MAGIC always and in all ways!

And  a special thank you to all of you for coming along on MY nostalgic road-trip, offering your kind words, support and patronage as I built this world I thrive in now. 

nicolas

PS:

If you are interested in Christmas Putz houses and their history, there is an archive of the original Papa Ted's Place website, maintained by fans and friends of Mr Althof after he passed in 2012. They kept it just as it was with only a note stating his passing as an addition. It's a relic of a site. Not slick and "squarespaced". . . but that only adds to it's charm and beauty I think. Great old photos, collections, stories, memories. 

The site is here: Papa Ted's

Willy Wonka

"There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination. Living there, you’ll be free if you truly wish to be." - Willy Wonka/Gene Wilder

Of all the things I credit with nurturing and fueling my childhood imagination, I suddenly realized that I seem to always manage to leave out Willy Wonka. Or, more accurately, Gene Wilder's portrayal of Willy Wonka.

His passing left me quite saddened but the fact that he hid his Alzheimers because he was afraid that it would lead to sadness if people knew is a last gesture of grace from the great dreamer of dreams himself. He, as his nephew said on NPR, "could not bear to be responsible for one less smile in the world."

I am only now sifting thru the memories of the Chocolate Factory and how the movie was such a part of my youth. How my friends and I would make our own "golden tickets" to hide in our Hershey Bars. How we all wanted to be the enigmatic showman who made dreams come true.

How we emptied out a few cans of chocolate syrup in our day because all wanted to know what it might be like to tend to have our action figures explore a chocolate waterfall and river.  : )

Somehow I forget to list it among the influences of my place in the world today.

But today, when I look at the things I create and the impetus behind them. . . it seems so clear. I may never be the caretaker of a chocolate factory but I do believe that any of us who build, dwell in or create little worlds of imagination probably owe at least a bit of thanks to Willy Wonka.

Gene Wilder made me laugh thru the years. Some of his scenes from later movies remain etched in my head and heart. . . but none more so than that of the reclusive Willy Wonka, straining to make his way to the front gate with his walking cane,  then lose said cane, fall forward face first only to roll over and bounce up on the soles of his feet with the biggest, most wonderful and warm smile on his face. . .  doff his top hat and then, he let us ALL in.

The truth is, I never left Mr. Wonka.

I never left. . .

Thank you

"If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it. Anything you want to, do it."

"We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams!"

The Landscape of Imagination

I mentioned that I had begun reading "The Natural World of Winnie the Pooh: A Walk thru the Forest that Inspired the Hundred Acre Wood" by Kathryn Aalto

It's a wonderful peek into the world of Winnie the Pooh's creator, A.A. Milne and the landscape, childhood memories and characters (his own son, Christopher Robin, and his stuffed animals that became the characters) that bring to life the Pooh books we all know.

I want to share a passage with you and then, a realization it opened for me.

In recent years, there has been concern that the very nature of childhood has changed. People have begun questioning if there has already been a "last generation" to play outside.  In "Last Child in the Woods", author Richard Louv writes about the modern disconnection between children and nature and the importance of providing children some autonomy in the natural world. "Whatever shape nature takes, it offers each child an older, larger world separate from parents. Nature can frighten a child too and this fright serves a purpose, too. In Nature a child finds freedom, fantasy and privacy, a place distant from the adult world, a separate peace."

When we are young, tramping through forests also leaves footprints on paths well into our adulthoods.

Throughout the writing of this book, for example, I heard laments from grandparents and parents about the diminishing range our children are now allowed to wander. Milne's childhood and his stories are touchstones of a paradise lost, of a bygone time that many - writers, psychologists, parents - believe is important in the development of a child. with these rising concerns over the nature of childhood itself, Milne's books offer a reminder about the importance of freedom in nature.


And that took me into thinking, as I so often do, about my own childhood.

I often say I grew up in a city, which I did.  A large industrial eastern US steel town. One decaying under the weight of the loss of those mills and industry. And many of my childhood experiences and the process of "becoming" are tied to very city-like adventures. Riding streetcars by myself, exploring downtown and all the people and activity of a city. But I immediately recognized something that I now feel so eternally grateful for. That in the midst of the urban life, I was fortunate to have woods, dense tree covered hillsides, (under which old mines lay) on either side of the house that I spent much of my childhood in. Entire days were spent exploring, making tree-houses (even if many of them were just a board slung through the branches to sit upon), following birds and squirrels, digging, climbing and creating worlds apart from the ones of my family and their adulthood. Time to be whatever and whoever I dreamed of being.

Much of what I write about in the short stories I am working on came from those childhood experiences and the imagination that the time. A mix of city experiences like "pitching nickels" with school friends against buildings and walls downtown. And also the woodland adventures scouting from treetops and crossing imaginary bogs and quicksand pits. Hiding from trolls under large spruce trees. . .

But to choose, one or the other? It's not even a question. The woods were far far more important to my future self.

The freedom of nature.

A separate peace.

And there was much in the world around me to necessitate that peace, that break from the slip-slide into adulthood.

Even today, my conversations with my own mother, who never had such a childhood and who I used to think of as being so overprotective but who, in comparison to many parents today would have been seen as very permissive, tend to be fraught with her lamenting the daily decline of the world around her. The news blaring from her tv all day long. And me, with no tv at all, no social media feeds, no newspapers. . . still the dreamer and believer, and every day seeking a deeper connection to that childhood me instead of that adult "other".

Maybe part of the problem is that it's the adults who forget and who become so lost in the very ideal of their own adulthood and it's many pitfalls and traps, that childhood seems eons away. Like a distant dream nearly unattainable now.

Or maybe more and more adults are coming from a childhood that lacks that time in nature, that freedom, that ability to develop those skills of nature's teaching?

I am saddened by the way kids become more screen bound and less independently imaginative with each passing year. I see it in the small town I live in, one surrounded with woods, blackberry patches, out of the places all bordering an expansive estuary/coastline/bay. The computers at the library are always in use. . . while many, many great and inspiring books, graphic novels and natural resources are not.

People defend this modern age as just the changing of the times and I do not disagree. Change is a given. . . but that simplified view asks us to accept that all change is, or can be, good, and that all change has an equal exchange within it of what is lost and gained.

It does not.

Losing the natural world, the freedom to explore, the ability to develop self-taught skills and stir imagination from within. . . there is no substitution for those.

All this is to say I never gave those woods, that space I had growing up, it's due. I took it for granted as just being part of the landscape but see now, thru the eyes of Pooh's creator, how very important it truly was. My own little "Hundred Acre Wood".

I see how it just being there for me each and every day amid the grind, noise and weight of the city, and of impending adulthood, was more important than I could have ever known.

Thank you for reading,

nicolas

I imagined building little cottages like this in my own childhood woods/forest many times.

Stories Moving Forward II - A World in 30 Days?

Last week I finished the 30 day World Building exercise that I took on to help me get "started" on my short stories writing project. The goal was to use the exercise to build a deeper background world around the land of the "Bewildering Pine" and starting to collect ideas and outlines for the place, the people/folk who populate it and the myriad of details that, hopefully, will make it rich and inviting to readers.

The results were, to put it mildly, overwhelming.

When it comes to writing I have always enjoyed telling little tales. It's been a part of me since childhood too. And, as I get older, I want to create something that will be left behind in written form. More than just little tales for the items I make and sell but stand alone tales of a place that, at least half of my waking hours, I am immersed in.

And yet,  every time I have tried to get started, I seem to fall short and the momentum and enthusiasm stalls out.

I am going to write about this a few times in the coming month because it is truly too much to try and share in one post. So I will keep this short and we will call this entry, "the outline".

Now, if you had told me before I started the thirty day project, that I would spend about 15 hours in one month on my stories,  I would have told you that sounds great. . . but I am not sure where I'll find the time to do that.

Well, let me say that I did indeed spend between 15 and 20 hours last month writing. First thing each day, 30 days in a row, I sat down and tackled that days world building assignment while having coffee and morning pastry.

Each day is supposed to be just 15 minutes of writing but, some of the exercises were things I had already thought quite a bit about but had never written down. And each of those led, it seems, to deeper and more extensive thoughts about everything from geography and climate to the people, commerce, animals and societal rules etc etc. I spent up to an hour some days, just writing. Moe thinking n top of that.

So much so that I am going through another list of world building questions and expanding the world even more!

The best thing to come out of it all is this.

When I began, the project was going to be a series of short stories, "The Ledgerkeepers" many of which I hoped to illustrate and then make little "zines" from that I could self publish and sell thru my shop. Stories that would appeal to any age or delight anyone with an interest fairies/elves etc and their world. Then, when I had enough stories, to produce a collected, printed book of them to offer as well.

What has come from the last month's work though is a far deeper story that I think is the bones for a longer book. Dare I say. . . a full or mini novel? And the bones of that story. . . the darker, unexpected plot line, characters, the Pine history and lineage and all the details and plot twists, so much of it never existed at all before I did this 30 day exercise.

All of that. . . in roughly 15 hours. . . that I would have sworn I could not have found in my days.

I can look back now and honestly say that I just never had the discipline to do it but also, I simply did not know where to begin.

And that is the thing I want to convey here. I will never let that happen again. I know it's an age old line but it's the journey, not the destination that is the key. Getting from point A to point B is always overwhelming until we take those first small steps.   And I know very well that an organized or structured framework, preferably daily and in small increments, is how we always manage to get there.

I did it with my Etsy shops, making new things every single day to improve my skills (I still do this 6 years later!) and I did it with learning to write music. . . or even running coffeehouses and cafe's. Just do this one little thing, then the next, then the next. . . little small building blocks to get where we want to be. Like so many, I can give up n things because that end goal seems so far of.  It seems to be the same for people with exercise plans, diets, career goals etc etc. Point B can seem so far away. . .

I think most new things seem overwhelming until you get in and wade thru those dark waters of uncertainty and self doubt.

So, I hope to share some of the deeper details with what I have been working on with you soon but let me leave you with just this one little aspect of my world that I just came up with in the last day or two of the exercise.

I knew that I wanted a "sport" for my world since games and sports were such a huge part of my childhood. But I also made up so many of my own variations back then. . . so I wanted something more personal than just a simple twist on a current "Earth sport".   Nothing close to what we know as being sports in the here and now. Nothing violent, nothing requiring extreme physical skill or physique. In fact, the long lithe elf would be a better suited candidate than the big strong ogre. lol But still, something that could be played by any creature. Elf, Hob, Dryad, etc etc with an equal chance for success.

That "sport", still unnamed as of now, is a combination of Hopscotch and Hackey Sack. I envision it being played on a huge, elaborately tiled mosaic version of the French hopscotch layout which is a winding snail shape play area ( in researching hopscotch, I learned that in France they call the game Escargot for the shape of the playing field!!) with, in my game's case, 21 numbered spaces leading to a gold circle in the center. The game I've invented is played with two teams of two defenders, one pitcher (a position that requires only tossing accuracy so any age folk could be this player!) and one sacker (that's the person who tries to score) on the game field simultaneously. Each little village has it's own "Shtyri" (a Pine term, from the "old language" for the four player team) and it's a dream of a number of the folk in the Pine, young or old, male or female, to become part of their town's team.  Young elves all over play it on dirt fields, adults at picnics, traders on leave. . . etc etc

Anyway, that's too much fun! I'll probably make a scale model of the playing field in the future too. I've come a cross some wonderful "villager" elf 1:72 scale figurines that I could create it around.

So, more on the world building to come!

For now, here are a few little creations to share this week. . .

Have a lovely week dear ones! MAKE MAGIC!!!

xo
nicolas

The Inner Nine Year Old Strikes Again

It's funny, The more that I have been thinking about the idea of wanting to please my inner nine year old, the more that comes to me about what that actually means.

On the surface, it seems easy to do. Seek out the tv shows, music, games etc that one loved so dearly in childhood. It is all, thanks to the internet, at our access after all. But, in truth, I wanted to go deeper than that to something more essential.

First, I chose to think of my inner nine year old because, in truth, I can barely remember anything of relevance from that time. No single major events. . . but a world of joy and imagination.

A few years earlier? Yes. . . I have recall as far back as 5 or even 4 and I know I can recall some key moments from even those years.

Everything pretty much from age 11 on?  Absolutely. Crystal clear.

And I have glimpses. Little bits that come to me that I THINK might have been from that time.

But with nothing concrete to grab ahold of, it seems my mind goes in search of something deeper and, in all honesty, I am not sure what it means or how one would exactly embrace it.

This is what came to me the other day.

Do you remember being anywhere in that 7 to 10 age range and having made a plan to go outside and, perhaps, play a game with your friends? Maybe tree climbing or rope swinging? Maybe to the pool? Maybe the weekend neighborhood wiffle ball game or unexpected sled riding on a snowy winter morning? Anything from that time that was something you just couldn't wait to do or be part of when the time came?

What I want to know is this. . .

Do you remember the urgency with which you ran to do said activity? Do you recall being so filled with excitement that you literally could not contain it and hit the front or back door of your house RUNNING? The latch pushed and the door thrown open in one single motion while almost at a full run. . . the door swinging as you bounded out and across the porch, or yard, or down the steps. The inability to contain the fervor for whatever lay waiting you in the coming hours just beyond that door?

 Or maybe you were running to come back inside to catch a favorite show or movie on TV.

Yes?

When was the last time you experienced that same thing as an adult? Now here we are, as adults, we shuffle here and there, keeping composure and cool. Always wanting to be in control. We may be feeling something that would inspire such behavior inside but, outwardly, we are often not able to let that same childhood joy show.

So maybe pleasing that inner 9 year old is about allowing ourselves to really feel the utter joy of those simple things again.  Dropping the adult overtones and just basking in that cup-flowing-over of happiness and anticipation.

I feel like I DO have an adult's sense of that joy. I am truly excited to get up every morning and begin my day. It's always a French press cup of coffee (yay adulthood!) and a fresh pastry from the bakery a block from our place. But I have never, in four years, RUN down the stairs, out the door and all the way to that bakery. Though my excitement for an Almond Bear claw or a Cherry danish is no less now than it was back then. Maybe MORE so since I can go and get one whenever I want and I do not have to ask for it from a parent. : )

I feel super excited to create every day too. To invent the things that I do and ship them out all over the world.  To make up the little stories that go with them and make booklets and maps and all manner of creative outlets that are part of the world I dwell in. . . but I think I can let that joy out a bit more than I do as an adult as well.

And, just yesterday, as I was thinking of all of this, I saw a little girl of maybe 7 or 8 with fairy white-blond hair, picking the first dandelions of the season across the street. Selecting them ever so carefully with her discerning eye and then, bouquet in hand, turning abruptly and running with that same urgency I've been talking about across the park to give them to her mother who was sitting on the bench just 100 feet away.

THAT is the urgency I miss.

Maybe it's harder as adults because we are supposed to have our emotions in check. To maintain that cool exterior and the idea of keeping it together. But really???  JOY is supposed to be that visible. Excitement for what we are doing should come with such outward expression.

So I will be running to the bakery at least once this week. And unashamedly beaming at the job I am blessed to be able to do here. And maybe, just maybe, more of these little facets of the joy of the inner 9 year old will be revealed?

Do you have any you'd care to share? Please feel free, I am all ears. . .

nicolas

And just one new thing to share. . .

Another HO Scale Fairy House. . . I rediscovered the word "Chantry" while researching ideas for this cottage. I think, if fairies were to borrow from our old-world architecture, stone and belfry bells and heavy wooden doors would be musts!