Yankee Doodle Zombies

What mumbles Independence Day and enthusiastic celebrants more than Zombies? Groom and I were confronted with this question last Sunday on the Fourth of July. You know how we all have life lessons to master? Well, one of these fine summer days, perhaps I’ll figure mine out. Don’t hold your breath, though.

Some people walk their talk, but I need to mind my talk. As I’ve been discovering over the past few years, one of the languages the Universe speaks fluently is symbolic. When a person asks a question, places a request or makes a statement, the reflective qualities of the answer comes quickly… if we’re paying attention.

Let me provide a most recent example. As most of you know, Groom and I travel around the Pacific Northwest with our booth - what we affectionately call our “mobile gallery” – and sell our bricolage jewelry.

Yep, discovered a new word: Bricolage. Comes from the French and means a piece of art that was created from whatever resources were at hand: An impromptu construction from diverse materials. Hey, this describes exactly what we do.

It’s root word, collage, is mainly (but not limited to) paper, ephemera and glue, dominating the two-dimensional realm while bricolage is often three-dimensional and incorporates both created and found objects. The people who do this type of artwork are called bricoleurs.

So, as bricoleurs, while displaying at art fairs and festivals, it is impossible not to people watch. On the other hand, we sometimes feel like monkeys in a zoo as the crowd ambles past, staring at the creatures (us) in our boxy cage (the booth). They often point, laugh and make comments to each other and I want to say, “I can hear you,” but it’s mostly good-natured banter they toss back and forth. The crowd is there for entertainment purposes after all, and our jewelry provides many opportunities for just that.

“Oh, these earrings would be perfect for my sister-in-law… if I liked her,” one might say, with fits of laughter following, a private joke of family dynamics at play. Or maybe, “I’ve got stamps in a drawer at home, I could make these.” Or even, “Who would wear these?!” (I can heeeaaar you). At this point, I want to pull out a Mc-sign that says, “Over 100,000 served.”

But as much as we are stared at or commented upon, the procession of people flowing past our booth, week after week, provides equal entertainment for us, as we are a bit of a captive audience. But what’s worse than being stared at and overhearing customer jibber jabber at our expense? Being ignored!!!! Eek, not good at all.

This is why vendors sometimes report back to each other that a crowd at a particular show “walked by like Zombies.” Which translates into meaning the hordes of people that could have been looking and buying art, stared straight ahead without looking to the left or right as though under the influence of a lower power with no will of their own. There’s a certain dazed look that crawls into their eyes and they begin to breathe with their mouths hanging open. Kinda spooky. It’s like they’re under a spell.

Speaking of spells, we all cast them every day with the words we speak. Since our words create our reality, we weave our future experiences by making declarations and reinforcing patterns such as “I’m always forgetting to (fill in the blank)” instead of “I’m remembering to (again, fill blank).”

The speed at which my words are being reflected back to me by the symbolic language of the Universe is uncanny. On Sunday, while in our booth at a 4th of July celebration in central Oregon, I noticed the crowd just walking by without even glancing in our direction. Eeek, not good at all! “They’re like Zombies,” I said, setting down my words like traps to ensnare me later.

Later came sooner than expected as you’ll note in the photographs toward the end of this entry. Here, I’d like to pause for a station identification and suggest that the photos will be more enjoyable when you enlarge them because there are details I’ll point out momentarily. In the meantime, simply click on the picture I’m describing and then hit the back button to return to the blog.

In the first photo of “Uncle Sam,” ha ha, please note his footwear. Is the personification of our country wearing governmental issued flip-flops? In photo number two, you can see the “purple mountain’s majesty” taking on more patriotic hues for the day.

As important as it is to make certain enough fresh stock has been created for a show, that our booth is in tip-top condition, that we’ve gotten enough rest and are ready to interact with a crowd, it is also vital that we understand the ambiance and context of the event where we have contracted to sell. Just because there are people out and about does not mean they are in the mood to shop for arty jewelry.

Lesson number one: If there is a pet parade and your neighbor is selling doggie visors, be advised.

Lesson number two: If there is a Freedom Ride with approximately 1,500 bicyclists yelling and whooping, be advised.

Lesson number three: If there are activities for families such as a watermelon eating contest, be advised.

Lesson number four: If the wind kicks up and is knocking over booths, be advised.

Lesson number five: If you set up a booth, you might as well enjoy the show. And there was certainly a lot to behold, such as painted doggies (photo #11) and painted peoples, kids in their cars and kids with their pets. In the 15th picture, note the goldfish the boy is holding up in a rubbermaidish type of container. While it is certainly a creative parade entry, I wonder if the sun heated the water transforming the square bowl into a hot tub?

Sidebar. The day before, on Saturday at the Market, Kimmm and I coordinated our psychic fashion network and decided to dress up a little to pay homage to the great Frida Kahlo for her 103rd birthday which was July 6th. Instead of going whole hog and filling in the unibrow, I simply added a heavier brow and a single flower to my pulled back hair.

While I was attempting a simple nod to the Frida style, it wasn’t until I got home and looked in the mirror that I realized I need to either fully commit and do the entire Frida ensemble or avoid it entirely. Why? Because the look I inadvertently created was far more Bride of Frankenstein than Frida. Oi! Don’t I have any friends? No wonder I got a few raised (single) brows and am hanging out with blueberries.

I tell you this as a warning that I am certainly not one to talk, but I can’t help but note the other colorful people out there and what they choose to wear. In public. Yes, I am a hypocrite.

Okay, the 4th has come and gone, Frida would have turned 103 and I’ll close this week’s ramblings with a delightful experience I had yesterday. Z0L0 King stopped in Albany to search through a metal graveyard for wire to turn into our spiral necklaces (I’m wearing one in the Bride of Fridastein/blueberry photo). He called me from his cell phone while climbing into a barrel full of sharp remnants and even though he scraped his elbow in the process, he read me a poem. While I thoroughly enjoyed this thought-provoking piece from Arnold Bennett

You wake up in the morning, and lo! your purse if magically filled with twenty-four hours of the magic tissue of the universe of your life. No one can take it from you. No one receives either more or less than you receive. Waste your infinitely precious commodity as much as you will, and the supply will never be withheld from you. Moreover, you cannot draw on the future. Impossible to get into debt. You can only waste the passing moment. You cannot waste tomorrow; it is kept for you.

I was equally impressed that Z0L0 King read me a poem from a scrap yard. A scrap yard. He didn’t need a cooperative, lovely backdrop to create beauty, he brought it in with him. Who carries a poetry book under one arm while looking through shards of metal? Z0L0 King is simply who he is no matter where he happens to be and the delightful energy and beauty goes with him. He cast a beautiful spell with his words.

Comparing that experience with mine over the weekend, I am humbled. Here I was, in the most beautiful lush green park, facing a pond laced with weeping willows, a brilliant blue sky, and I say outloud, casting a spell of my own, “The crowd is walking by like Zombies.” Sure enough, the Universe answered me. A group of the undead passed by and I see how I created an experience filled with barely animated corpses in search of human flesh to devour.

And in the other scene, a friend was not deterred by the metal cemetery, but breathed life and beauty into his words and into my world.

When will I learn?