November 1, 2009
I dressed up as an unfinished poem.
Note the eyes bleeding ink and the mouth that is stitched closed.
I took this in the bathroom mirror, so the “Write Me” is actually written backwards. Redrum, redrum!
I didn’t get a very good picture of the full effect, as it gets very dark in our condo after the sun sets. So, this morning I took a picture of the piece de la resistance, the skirt. It was an $8 silver satin skirt from a thrift shop, which I decorated with the drenched flowers and half-finished lines of poetry.
Yesterday, I was asking my husband why it couldn’t be Halloween every day. 364 more days until the next costume.
October 30, 2009
Tonight, I’ve been drenching cloth flowers in diluted black acrylic paint. No, I’m not turning goth again. I’m working on my Halloween costume. And I’ve been working on it for the past two days. Maybe I’m a little obsessive, but I don’t think so.
See, I’ve been working at my day job for the past nine days straight. I started on Tuesday, October 20 and due to a conference in Wisconsin, I worked through the weekend and then the week. As much as I love my job, and I do love it, this was a lot of working. Coupled with my new added responsibilities, I’ve been drowning a bit.
Somewhere in the middle of the work week, I was invited to a Halloween party. Since I love everything Halloween, I jumped on the opportunity to make a new costume. My recent Halloween costumes have taken a literary bent, such as zombie Virginia Woolf and the personification of this Dorothy Parker poem. I just couldn’t think of anything to top those.
Then suddenly on Thursday, it occurred to me and I was off. (I’ll post pictures tomorrow or Sunday and reveal my costume then.) Right now, my costume includes the following materials (among other things):
- a paper clip necklace
- the above drenched flowers
- a black Betty Page style wig
- gun metal gray ballet flats
- multiple lines of poetry from people like Sharon Olds, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Ed Bok Lee, Joy Harjo, Matthea Harvey, Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, Percy Byshe Shelley, and e.e. cummings.
- 2 scarves, 1 gray and 1 black
As I was painting my flowers this evening, I realized that this was the first creative outlet I’ve had in nine days. My headphones were in, my were stained with paint, and a little bit of calm descended upon me. Apparently, I need a little more of this. Why can’t Halloween be every day?