Bright Lights; Poppets, Spaces, Fake Pants

Poppet video work is progressing. Here is a loose mix of photos from the last shoot, in no particular order.

We've decided for the next video to recruit an intern to journal as we work. It's way too much fun not to share.

Anyway---it's a unique experience shooting in an empty pool. The space allows sound and light to behave in unexpected ways.

The space allows humans to behave in unexpected ways.




There are two new Poppets in Fake Pants (see sidebar).

Things are a little weird, but the heart of the beast is still beating, and we're making progress.

Good thing too, VCon is coming up fast and we intend to show the members what we did this Anti Summer.
Time for lunch...

Neil Gaiman Rat enters the land of the Anti-Summer

Poppets in

Fake

Pants.

We've talked about making Poppets in Fake Pants a regular thing.

We started talking about all those cheesy Halloween costumes we wore as kids---you know, the vinyl ones. We figured, the more fake, the better. It was a brainstorm---Bent, Alison and me. We had fun.

Now we have Poppets in Fake Pants.

And then, the Anti Summer Neil Rat showed up.

I asked him how he would survive in the harsh world of Anti Summer with only his trusty initialed spanner, his heavy duty boots, his gas mask and his wits.

He said he'd need a copy of The Wind in the Willows.

Good Luck Little Neil Rat. It's a hard world.

The street lamp is LED with motion sensors thanks to Spencer.

The base has grafitti, still growing. The sculpture will go to Neil when he returns from China so he can add his own to the mix.

stumbling, roughly in a forward direction

We've resumed work on video projects. Here are a few seconds from Blast Radius.

The air is starting to cool slightly, though experience says we'll have another week of hellish heat right after school starts in Sept. The nights are cooling.

The studio is getting a good cleaning in anticipation of Halloween work. We have switched (as of today) to the fall schedule, which means getting up very early.

We are spending less time dodging debris, more time being productive. We have made things---the Anti Summer Neil Gaiman Rat is really very cool and there are Poppets in Fake Pants. And the studio looks even more like mad scientists are at work.

Some of you sent good things my way, including words and good wishes. They were all put to good use. Thank you.

Art is being made. Some of the art does things.

Occasionally we shoot strange, small rockets into the sky.

Sometimes we find ourselves in Backwards House on Opposite Day.

How does one rearrange spaces that are bigger inside than out?

We're gathering stories without even trying. I'm okay with that.

photos tomorrow.

g'night

review

It's been a week since my last post. Time is a slippery little sucker.

Various recent moments:

1 Mimi Ko jumps off the roof. (with joyful abandon)

2 pools without water are surreal places

3 two realities---stillness above, motion beneath--this one is somewhat Magritte---or possibly Jacek Yerka. Spencer provides footage for poppet animation work.

4 Strange Light. Larry Niven has begun the next story for the series. He sent me his notes. Sometimes my job is fucking perfect.

I took a whole series of sunlight shots. The desert has its good points.

5 Lisa shooting at night---still over 100 degrees.
The desert sucks.

6, 7, 8, 9 Studio work. The studio is evolving. It looks less like an art studio and more like a very strange laboratory every day. Eventually it may begin to think for itself.

Aside from that--We're very nearly finished with the Anti-summer Neil Gaiman rat. I asked Neil if the Neil Rat was stuck in the Poppet's Anti-Summer world, what book would he want with him? He chose, The Wind in the Willows.

Today was for putting out spotfires and dodging bullets. Tomorrow is a studio day.

At least, that is the plan.

The Invisible Net

For someone like me (and there are many like me) this blog is a weird sort of tightrope.

Its purpose, from the beginning, was to open a window onto the process that creates the art.
Because of the nature of my work and the nature of my brain, that process (and therefore this blog) has been less about nuts and bolts and more about thoughts and experiences.
A lot of daily life gets thrown into the mix.

So, always, there is the balancing act between honesty and privacy. That has seemed easy enough. I step along, one foot at a time, preferring the pole to the parasol, because I've seen Wile-E fall often enough to know an umbrella can't slow a fall.

Possibly I should do what my friends and colleagues do---write it as fiction. Perhaps I should rely on the filter of time.

But art is different from fiction. Neil defined it for me once---I can't grasp it now, the entanglement of truth in lie and fiction in reality. I'll ask him again. It was extremely clever---of course it was. But I do know that art is immediate and visceral and won't wait for filters.

These last years I've crawled and stumbled along this path to understanding, inviting you to come with me, writing about the experiences and showing you the art, hoping you could feel the connections. Allowing me to see the connections. Listening to yours.

Always looking for understanding, for honing this visual alphabet I've concocted, believing that eventually I'll become more fluent, yet accepting that the cypher and symbols will evolve, as with any language. And that we might understand it together instead of alone.

The forums are dead for now. Dead from neglect. That's on me. So comment here freely. I'll answer. Answer each other too.

The thing is, this summer has been a personal explosion following a long season of something hard and oppressive and as yet undefined. The details are private, as they should be. But at least for now, the experience and the process of recovery is evident in everything I do. I know that you are aware of this. I find myself surrounded by debris--some of it still falling-- and, though grateful to have survived, now I must assess damage and tentatively find new footing.

The rope seems tighter, and higher, and I no longer see the net. It no longer matters whether it was actually ever there, does it? Do we create our own nets? If so, are they 'real?" I don't know the answer for this one.

So. Here we are.

I'm not fragile. Thinner, and possibly a little harder, but present. I know you get it. I know you experience the same pains and look for the same answers that I do. Of course you do, we're human beings. It's a small planet.

I might fall. Or you might. I might tell you too much and embarrass myself or someone else. I may tell you too little and fail to be of any help in your own searching.

There it is. I'm okay with that. The work is calling me and I'm going back to it. The answers are in there, because that's where the questions are.
I have a clean new apron and a fresh pot of coffee.

Thank you, really.

Here we go again.

look out, look in, press on

Sometimes we need to contemplate something a lot bigger than ourselves to figure out where we stand.

And sometimes, when feeling overwhelmed by it all, we just have to pick something from the pile and do it.

This is what I'm learning now.

"Stumbling toward the light" was never more true for me than right now.

If the alternative is inertia, I'll choose to stumble every time.

Arrival of the Queen

We knew she'd show up sooner or later, the Queen of Anti Summer.

She silently surveys the scene.

There's no need for words. Her presence is enough to spur the Poppets into action.

It's a new world order.

Long Live the Queen.

bit by bit

Crash Poppet

Jordan (yes, the Jordan)

and Aubrey (yes, the Aubrey)

photo by Mimi Ko

Zoya's world

Poppet's sometimes earn hazard pay.

Drift

Lapse.

Time does.

I think of light as a magician, changing worlds and dust motes with equal grace and gravity.

I think of time as a trickster.

I don't know what to write you, exactly.

I'm in a flux here, between this and that.

So I'll say that your artist is in a large sort of and difficult sort of transition between, well,

this and that.

What I've learned, so far, is that being between this and that can be very, very hard.

And that sometimes a week can seem like one very long day.

If you're waiting for art and concerned, please don't hesitate to write to Angie at the harlikn7@aol.com address. If I owe you correspondence, please send me a reminder.

We're catching things up.

Children are playing in this house.

Good meals are being prepared. Friends are telling stories.

There's every reason to believe this reality will work itself out in the art.

So. I'm thinking that's the direction I'll head toward now.

Thank you for being here. Really, really.

g'night

Jumping Off

You may think I've gone away.

I have not.

MimiKo is here, to capture Blink in a light that shows his true colors.

As for me. I'm

making things that seem to be toys at first, but

are not.

Today we took turns jumping off the roof into the water. It seems a long way from up there.

Sometimes the desert is bigger inside than out.

Blink Habitual has a soft switch underneath that sets up an array of lights that play over the hand underneath, making it seem a wholly different thing than the one we see in the light.

For the VCon Program book cover image, Spencer and I built a small, sort of mad laboratory for even madder Poppets.

Poppets with tools and skill.

We took lots of photos along the way to show at the convention. (We missed MimiKo. We must build a set when she's here too.)

After, I'll post the shots here,.

The set and photo shoot took about 14 hours. We were tired, but the work was good.

Sometimes it's the habitual things that hang us.

It's the anti summer. We're working through it, sort of. It comes out in the work, mostly.

Take care out there.

Very Early Tuesday Morning

Fallout is hell.

Your artist is making toys.

Again.

Phase Shift

I seem to be experiencing a protracted moment of clarity.

Always dangerous, that one.

A whine, a click and a gear is shifted, a rhythm permanently altered.

So that the world looks much the same, but underneath is a changed machine with a strange new resonance.

Honestly, I'm a little afraid.

too much for words

Yesterday was hot and close and humid. Today was mostly the same. Tonight is cooler, with lightning and wind. My plan to get to sleep early went away in bits as one task led itself to another.

We swam at midnight, Aubrey and I, under darkly luminous clouds with occasional flashes. We made up scenarios to creep each other out. Over the years, we've become very adept at this game. I can only imagine how our half whispered horrors might sound to the uninitiated, or how mad our delight in them.


I'm too much in my thoughts these days, with less to say than I wish. Some days are better spent letting information in. Quiet. Listen. Process. Inhale. Exhale.

Like the tide. It's coming around again.

Poppets Are Always Watching

Well, at least we've got this going.

Here's our first Poppet t shirt!

Sweet in front, evil on the back.

We're pretty excited.

We have different sizes in the ebay store.

These are ladies' shirts, but not to worry, more will be coming.

New work is coming. But today is for lots of water. It's hot in this desert.

---later

not a word about inflatibles

It seems to me now that many stories in my own experience have been reduced to a very strange sort of alphabet.

There are perfect moments.

Some people don't believe these sorts of moments exist. Others do believe, and spend their time and energies and money trying to find or create them. A few have experienced these moments and seek to understand them. And a very small few have learned to create them at will.

You may have met one of those individuals. Think back. Did you? Did you feel some sort of twinge when you passed them on the bus, or in line? Make eye contact? Feel like crying for no reason?

nah. Neither have I. And I've not a shred of evidence for any of it. But I'll have to say I belong to the third group.

Possibly it's the heat. I really don't know how human beings stay sane in this place. I'm not exactly sure why I'm still here.

And then there was the 4th. Another 4th. Did I think about America? Yeah, briefly. They weren't great thoughts, but very nearly hopeful. It was a good day for me, though still, as holidays are, it was another. Did you have a good 4th? Did you think about America? Did you wonder what took you from the last 4th to this one?

Where was I last year? I wonder. And now, what is?


Mostly, it's going to be about working these things out, somehow, in the language these experiences have become.

I'll show you. Sometime.

Holding Things Together

This studio employs CA for projects. Cyanoacrylate, as most makers know, is the best adhesive out there for most projects. There's an art to using it properly. There's no repositioning once the process starts.

The spell is easily broken.

It requires sitting motionless for a full three minutes.

Sounds easy to anyone who hasn't done it.

Sometimes this Poppet Planet hydra I've created overwhelms me. It happens. It's not always apparent from the outside, so mostly goes unnoticed.

But once in a while, it's very, very difficult. So many choices to make, so many voices, so many distractions, so little time to work things out.

And then there are the larger questions at the edges.

Whether. Whether this or that.

Weather. Mental tornado inside, blinding light outside.

I hold two tiny parts together, waiting for the magic chemistry I can't see, but have learned to trust. I wait. I breathe. I clear my mind.

Three minutes.

I am sane. The glue holds. So far.

If I still feel like crying after the three minutes, a bit of perspective helps.

Little Black Poppets

Little Black Poppets

are back...

sort of.

A little more edge,

for Anti Summer.

We're so engrossed in studio work it's not terribly hard to ignore the sun's hammer. Until we go outside.

Multiple projects, multiple media. We're under the gun to finish Pete's costume for High Sierra, his No-I-am-Not-a-Cop, bizarro, mystical weirdness that includes a top hat arrayed with LED strangeness.

Photos will emerge eventually, no doubt.

We swim mostly at night now. I can't help thinking about how weird it gets here in the thick of summer. There must be some cool story that would fit such a strange setting. Anyone want to take that one on? I'll be happy to consult on Palm Springs life in summer.

gotta go. Little Black Poppets. Brains. Lights. Sounds. Motion.

We're all over it.

later...

George

George Carlin is gone.






Bummer.

Just a couple of days ago I made the Bill Hicks poster for the sidebar. Pete introduced me to Bill's work several years ago. I'm very sad I never saw him perform in person. Bill was a quiet sort of savior, born in an unlikely place for a savior, who grew up with his eyes open, then traveled day after day after day to nudge the common man toward the light. He entertained not with miracles or magic but with language and laughter. He was misunderstood by the mainstream, crucified by the media and left us at the age of thirty two.

Now George, who was a tremendous influence for me in an earlier life. A life of college on a scholarship, working in a morgue, driving an aging MGB and stealing crackers from the school cafeteria to get by. George was there for me in those days, making me cry with laughter and teaching me more about humanity and language than in any humanities class.

I'm a card-carrying atheist to be sure. But I can imagine George awakening in some eternal place, where he'll evolve further or go back for another round, or do whatever it is souls might do upon waking from life's dream.

Possibly Bill is there to greet him. Possibly he just left a note.


Whatever is, that imagining makes me smile, and I'm extremely grateful for these talented and excellent human beings. George, bon voyage.

g'night

The State of Anti Summer

I know I live in a desert. I get that. I knew it was a desert when I moved here.

I didn't fully appreciate what that meant.

I do now.

Leave, you say?

Why, yes! Of course! Let's!

Then, our eclectic group continues to grow. Eventually, we might have enough skills between us to make and or do anything we wish, outside of things like, say, leaving the actual planet.

I'm not leaving this desert until I can take them with me.

And therein lies the word for the day. How to survive another summer in a place where it's possible not to survive summer.

We will stay safely hidden in our caves, we will use our brains and we will live in our heads.

Poppets and other art will reflect this mentality. It can't be helped. What we create mostly always reflects our current state.

Solstice? Oh yes. We have entered the state of the Anti Summer.

Algernon's Poppet

Today, from the perspective of its end, was more like three days than one.




I'm extremely glad to have experienced... them.














And we're left with these two, who seem as likely as any of us humans to figure things out.


We can only hope, silly humans.




g'night

p.s. Cookie Monster makes an appearance on The Colbert Report. If you didn't catch it tonight, catch it tomorrow. Don't miss it. Focus!

Virginia's Corset

I sent Spencer a basic brain. He modified it a bit and added an LED array.

Then he gave it back.

Just as with any sort of collaboration, I was surprised at what I got back, and intrigued by the challenge of making it mine.

I think the coolest thing about her is that she makes even me slightly uncomfortable.

unexpected

The other coolest thing is that the cobalt glass sphere rolls, creating a strange tactile sort of interaction.

I cannot stop touching her.

The other coolest thing is that there's a soft button under her 'belly' that, when touched, sets off a series of lightning-like flashes inside that vary depending on the duration and cadence of the touching.

She seems alive to me.

At eight in the evening, Orion and I swam. It was 102 degrees F outside. We watched the bats come out.

Tomorrow is another day. Another brain.

Summer is here.