Soon my son was turning 15 and since he went to Boston to celebrate, there wasn’t going to be much of a party. . . basically his favorite dinner with cake and ice cream. A few days before the big day, I saw some wonderful Nordicware “backyard bugs” cake pans in the discount store. I looked them over. No, he’s too old, I thought.
When I asked him what kind of cake he wanted, he said chocolate cake with chocolate icing. Then he hesitated and said, no, just plain cake. No icing. I thought of the bug mold and how good they might look unadorned with icing.
The day of his birthday, I raced back to the store hoping the pans would still be there. After all, it wasn’t that long since he’d asked me for a dinosaur cake. Here’s how they turned out. Chocolate cake from scratch. Yum. And when my son and his friends saw them, big smiles graced the faces of the tall and lanky, almost-grown 15-year-old kiddos.
In my previous post I introduced you to Nora. Here are the photographs from her first day at work. She was modeling earrings for Rabbit Rodeo Design. When I first started taking pictures, my focus was portraits of women. In a way, I’m back at it with Nora, and so far she looks great in every color of hair. Yay! In order of their appearance, the earring designs Nora is wearing: Put on Your Red Dress Baby, Lunch at Sundance, and Pink Cadillacs.
Recently, I’ve run into mannequins. It’s a whole new world. Folks collect them, refurbish them with new paint, human hair lashes and glass eyes. Ten years ago, if I had paid a visit to a fortune teller and she told me that mannequins and wigs would play some part in my future, I wouldn’t have believed it.
Last fall I attended a play on a college campus in the Berkshires, and a group of mannequins were lolling in the lobby. I shot them on my way out. A few weeks ago I happened upon an armless vintage woman of wood. She was worn to tatters and I fell in love with the mesmerizing cracks and deformities in her skin.
Finally, there’s Nora, restored perhaps beyond her original glory with ruby-red lips, piercing glass eyes, and Snow White skin. Before I finished unwrapping her, I began to photograph her, in an attempt to decipher her mystery. Nora’s going to do some modeling for me. When she’s not working, she’s the beauty in the basement. The rest of the family says she’s too spooky to reside anywhere else in the house. So, in the basement she will perch, her head sealed in a plastic grocery bag when she’s between gigs. Can’t allow any dust to settle in those lashes.
I ran across these today. I didn’t take them, but the nostrils and lips are mine. My pal Rocky and I were on photo safari at abandoned military base at Marin Headlands in northern California. We had big fun and lots of Rocky’s shots ended up in youtube video of my instrumental Go It Alone played by Mark Matejka of Lynyrd Skynyrd. If you’re in the mood for some killer blues guitar, video link at end.
Today is soup day. And mold day. First I write a bit of poetry and end up titling it Shipwrecked in Soup. Then I remember some of my favorite photos not yet posted: Mold! Mold in the soup pot, mold in the coffee cup. All pictures, except coffee cup, are shots of my big soup pot when I finally had nothing better to do than get it out of the fridge. It had been there for two months. When I opened the lid, as soon as I saw the beauty that had unfolded inside, I grabbed my cell phone. Yep, I was so excited I didn’t grab my camera.
Art Takes Time: The best of cell-phone photography
This mold is compliments of the slow demise, under refrigeration, of my famous turkey tomato vegetable soup Art takes time. In this instance, a certain lack of commitment, or perhaps the commitment to let things sit and do their thing. The art of soup-pot mold was something that would never have happened when I was married.
My Kitchen My Way: Benefits of Divorce
It’s modern times. I’m separated. I discover I can leave a pot in the fridge for as long as I want, without harassment or feeling guilty from the “please-process-this” looks from my soon-to-be officially excommunicated husband. It is a wonderful freedom. Same thing with the coffee cup. I was painting an upstairs bedroom and left it on the ladder before taking a few days off. I needed a break before tackling the trim. No one checking on me, my progress, the quality of my painting, or what food dish I might leave behind. Far the the kitchen, a half-full cup of coffee unattended for a few days, and what do you get? Voila! Beautiful shapes from out of the air, beautifully formed, beautifully magical, mysterious mold.
P.S. I’m going to start shooting RAW soon and I am so in love with the mold, I plan to “cook up” some more in the fridge so I can get quality images. If you have any mold shots, please share. When you’ve had enough mold, you can read Shipwrecked in Soup, Shoes in the Bushes, Bologna Perfume and I stood up to die at writingwithoutahelmet.com.