Monthly Archives: January 2016

The Return Of My Poetry!


I pulled my poetry page down some time ago, long personal story, but basically many of the poems were loosely inspired by a real life situation, and there was a chance other people could have been hurt by them, so I had pulled them.

Upon rereading them I see clearly now that these “dangerous” poems were never once about the so-called affair some may well have assumed us to be having, each of these poems were about unrequited love, about being dismissed and considered unworthy by none other than the object of my wayward and unfulfilled affections.

But like all stories attempting to speak from the heart, the poems spoke through exaggerated metaphors and symbols, and had they been misunderstood, or taken too literally, they could have caused unnecessary problems.

Well, the situation resolved itself, leaving them with all and me with nothing, not even my poetry.

I want my poems back.

So, here they are.

Where’d My Rug Go?



What do you do when you’ve had the rug pulled out from under you? By that I mean… the BIG rug. I had been in a long-term situation with someone very dear to me, someone in whom all of my passions and obsessions were reflected: Harry Nilsson, Godzilla movies, Kahlil Gibran, Paul McCartney, God, Star Wars, Badfinger, Universal Horror, Exploitation Cinema, Ghoulardi… you name it, we shared it together. Unfortunately, there were long-running underlying problems too large to ignore. When it came time for me to walk away, I couldn’t just do it, I realized just how lonely I would be… for everything I loved, every movie, every song, everything that once would have consoled me would now smell like his cherry vanilla pipe tobacco, would now merely remind me. What do you do when you’ve had THAT rug pulled out from under you?

The story of “Devdas” could have been an answer for me, as once upon a time I would have drowned my sorrows in alcohol and anger, but…

I found other things to consume me, and probably the most immersive being Bollywood! Here I found a lake deep and wide enough to swim in for a long time to come. And best of all, Bollywood has no whiff of cherry vanilla about it, no, it smells to me like cardamom. It belongs to me, not to my friend and I.

In a time of emotional distress, I began to imprint my need to feel passionately on Bollywood. Not a bad choice, there I have found high emotion, dazzling visuals, long emotionally involved stories, love, tragedy, and high romance. There I have found what was, at first, a place to hide, but what now has become a place to explore and celebrate. And what a place, what a resplendent place! And best of all, I have found a few people to share it with, so those lonely nights have become evenings full of companionship, popcorn, cookies, and the chai I make for myself and serve to my friends and students. Through Bollywood I emerged from heartache quickly and victoriously.

My first discovery had already been a part of my life, director Sanjay Leela Bhansali, whose film “Saavariya” had really captured my heart. I’ve been fortunate in that here in town there is a heady video store that carries Bollywood DVD’s, but all the more fortunate in that there is actually a cinema here in town that regularly plays Hindi movies. Among the many I’ve seen there: “Bajirao Mastani,” “Bajrangi Bhaijaan,” and one of my very favorites… “Tamasha.” Some of those movies I saw more than once, being lured to the cinema like a moth to the moon. I haven’t had this close a relationship to the cinema since Star Wars was in theaters. It’s one thing to sit cozily in my home with a cup of chai, but it’s another thing entirely to witness these films on the big screen. When “Bajirao Mastani” premiered in town, the theater even dedicated the biggest room with the biggest screen to it, it was jaw-dropping, and I saw it three times. Immersive to say the least. The musical numbers blew my mind, not merely due to the scope, but in how well integrated they were into the story. Most significantly, in one of the dance numbers, there was a two layered metaphor that struck my heart.

Dancing rivals

“Bajirao Mastini’s” dancing rivals

Before I realized I needed to break-up or somehow change this situation I was in, I (metaphorically… “the other woman”) hosted what would have, in Bollywood terms, been a visit from my (metaphoric) “rival,” the wife of my dear friend. The days before her rather surprising arrival were anxious, but when she came, we danced… not literally, but we danced together. We shared great meals, shopped, talked about art, and realized that we had once been friends, though that was a lifetime ago, a manifestation ago for me. In “Bajirao Mastani” there is a love triangle between Bajirao, his wife (who was a truly great character), and his “mistress,” or 2nd wife (depending on who you asked), and in the film the two women set aside their differences and sorrows and danced! There was the very metaphor I needed when I needed it, but the metaphor ran even deeper as in the film the two women were relating to another story, that of Radha and Krishna. Of course, Krishna left Radha to be with his wife. And so it goes. And so it went, and so here I am. But, I followed the path of karma, spoke with Parvati many times, tried to deny the weight of what she was telling me I had to do, but in the end (through tears and torment) I set things as right as I could… knowing from the beginning what that would mean to me… what it means is I, like so many women, am left standing alongside Radha, slowly waiting for the air to stop smelling like cherry vanilla pipe tobacco. It has since, and smells now much more like sandalwood… when it’s not smelling like cardamom.

I went to the Temple soon after all this emotional trauma unsatisfactorily and inevitably resolved itself, and I bowed to Radha, her warm eyes, like pools of water, reflected my soul back to me, and I knew that if nothing else, my karma was now clean. And… I was now free. I have become very interested, of late, in doing what I can to realign my karma and find my center.

At home tonight I just finished “Jodha Akbar,” and just last night I got to see “Dedh Ishqiya” for the second time, and both times I saw it, I did so with friends. It seems with the help of Bollywood, I am emerging from this cloud with a smile on my face and with a room full of friends.

What have I discovered about Bollywood? Mainly that it speaks its own language of cinema and cannot be critiqued from a Western perspective trained to see things a certain… nay… a very specific way. For one, I love the high emotion of Bollywood, it matches my emotional intensity far more directly than Western films do. Western films are, to my eyes, emotionally stunted, full of characters who are not truly free to feel, and critiqued and praised by people who are not free to feel, nor open to another way of viewing cinema. I have found that Bollywood films, at their best, can redefine what cinema can be, or more specifically, how dear cinema can be to one’s heart. I have found that the dismissive cliches about Bollywood only prove to be so from a very narrow point of view. For example I have been surprised, even delighted, to note that in most cases the songs are flawlessly incorporated, and, to me anyhow, seem very organic, and beyond that I have been impressed at the way many of the more powerful directors use the song and dance elements. In “Dedh Ishqiya” the songs fit seemlessly into the film, and the choices of music were very high-minded to say the least. These songs truly speak from and to the heart, and like lyrics and poems, can more easily express deep emotions than dialog.

I have witnessed dance numbers and rhythms that Western Popular music could stand to learn from. I mean, talk about beats! Bollywood’s got beat! The dance numbers can be enchanting, and the choreography impressive, complex, enormous, yet, at times, as subtle as hand gestures (see Devdas for one fine example of that).

Divine Madhuri

Divine Madhuri

I have discovered that as I begin to be able to tell who’s who, I am beginning to develop certain loyalites to certain directors, and great respect and appreciation for certain actors, easily my favorite being Madhuri Dixit. Divine Madhuri! She is full of grace and magic, just as Bardot had been, and before her, Cary Grant, Fred Astaire, or even Audrey Hepburn. Madhuri has that larger than life feel, she never seems ordinary or vulgar. In “Dedh Ishqiya,” she plays an older woman, an aristocrat, who at heart is still a dancer, the same woman she has always been regardless of her status. This seemed, to me, like a metaphor for her own life and her own status. Bollywood, like Hollywood, is obsessed with youth. Her role in “Dedh Ishqiya” was inspiring and moving, especially to me, as I am not getting any younger. Madhuri shines, be she twenty-something or forty-something, she radiates with larger-than-life magic, just like the Beatles do and did. The Beatles never seemed like boys to me, rather like manifestations of Deities. Some people, some stars, are too big to be common. And many of us need our heroes to be bigger than we are, after all, what good is a hero who is only as large as our nearest neighbor? I do not seek equals in my heroes.

Do I sound like a fangirl?

Good, because I am, shamelessly so, shamelessly becoming an anime geek for Bollywood. And shamelessly dragging other people into this with me. So far, none of my converts have complained.

if there’s been an upside to this “break-up,” or “falling-out,” or whatever it was (nothing about the situation was typical or as-it-seemed) it has to be Bollywood. I’ve been grateful for the color, the music, the romance, the heroic values… and for the fact that the films are rarely (if ever) cynical. Cynicism, there’s something I’ve ggrown weary of in the West. Ah, give me romance, and I mean high romance, not just between a man and a woman, but romance to a culture, to music, to ideals of heroism. I’ve realized that, at least through Bollywood, the Indians have not forgotten how the hero’s journey works, and have not lost sight of what a hero must be. India, for all its problems and struggles, still understands its own myths, and still honors its own Gods.

Mastani with her sword

Mastani with her sword

Like Mastani with her sword, I have found strength. Shortly after seeing this film I found myself, once again, in a situation in which I needed to defend the integrity of my school and my own space. I have realized that I am, at times, all alone out here, and at times, I alone will stand firm and take matters into my own hands. On this day I ended up beating a door to splinters with a hammer (uh… long story). Ultimately, like Durga, I confronted this Rakshasa demon, and peace and quiet prevailed over the kingdom. I have begun to become the sort of woman for whom the buck stops, and it stops here, at my toes and ankle bangles. Yes, there are role models for women in Bollywood films, women who can be strong without resorting to grunting, groaning and spitting like men, women who know that their strength lies not in masculinization, but in a whiff of perfume, in dance, and in the depths of their femininity. And I have become the kind of woman who can survive having the rug pulled out from under her.

Well, I don’t know where the rug went when it was pulled out from under me, but I like the beautiful Persian rug I’m standing on now just fine. I think I’ll throw a few more pillows on it, lie down, and watch “Bahubali” again. Bring cookies, I’ll make the chai.

Four Years Barefoot…

Barefoot Justine's birthday bare feet 2016

Barefoot Justine’s birthday bare feet 2016

Yep, it’s rolled around again! That time of year (my birthday, Jan. 14th) when I reflect on what it means to have successfully navigated another year wholly and purely barefoot.

Well, to start, WOW!

It’s cold, as usual on my birthday, so I got dressed this morning in a pair of favorite bell bottoms, an undershirt and big cozy blue sweater covered in shiny stars. I, of course, wear my usual array of baubles, bells and bangles, and of course necklaces with Ganesh and Shiva on them, but also, around my ankles, anklets, and a pair of leg warmers, which do a lot to keep my feet warm. Lately at night it has gotten a little below freezing, but not much colder than the fifties during the day, days that are easier by far on bare feet than the winters I left in Ohio. Though I still hate the cold with as much weather-resentment as I dare hold on to now that I am in Florida. I was thankful that this is about as bad as it gets as I stepped out onto the cold bricks towards my car.

My first stop, the local Indian restaurant, the buffet has become an almost daily part of my diet. I have been learning to speak Hindi, so I start off my day chatting in Hindi with one of the waiters, who has taken it upon himself to let me practice my sloppy Hindi on him. Funny, a couple years back I was told customers had been complaining about my bare feet… moronic customers who not only cannot mind their own business, but are wholly ignorant of the laws. It took some convincing, but they eventually welcomed me back, and I have become more than a regular, a friend. I’m proud to say I have been close to many of the Indians who work there, and that we have not only enjoyed hanging out together, but have helped each other out quite a lot. This place is warm to me, friendly, and altogether my favorite place in Gainesville, apart from my home and SAW.

It’s cold in my little studio in the back of SAW (the comics school where I work), but my space heater makes it cozy within minutes, which is good as I have a lot of work to do. Soon my feet are warm and I am deep into the little Wind In the Willows and Winnie the Pooh type world I am creating for a proposed animation project that will help educate people, especially children, about the Florida Springs and our water. It’s a project that excites me, not merely because of the lovely theme and characters I am creating, but because it will get me in good graces with prominent environmentalists, good people, real good people. I am establishing strong and deep roots here, which I want, as this is the place I chose to call my home. This place, this town, this school, my room, are the only places I have ever chosen as my home. Finally, I am settling down.

All day students are wishing me a happy birthday as I ramble about the school, the chilly linoleum underfoot. It’s essential, to any hardcore barefooter, to find a job that will allow us to be authentic, so essential to me as I have designed my life around being barefoot, and I have been now, for far more than the last 4 years in which I really started counting. In fact, in the Hindu sense, in this manifestation, I have never worn shoes, nor am I merely a person who does not wear shoes, I am barefoot, and as we all learned in “Barfuss,” there is a difference.

Finally, the deadline met, I took off towards the bookstore to get a diary for my Hindi lessons, as I have been being tutored in Hindi and Urdu. As seems to happen more often than not these days, people don’t hassle me for being barefoot, perhaps it’s because I look them in the eye. After handling every diary and journal in two stores, the diary I chose had a Kay Nielsen cover.

Javed called as I was shopping (my student, Hindi tutor, and friend) to ask if I wanted to go out for ice cream for my birthday, but in classic Javed fashion, there were complications… fortunately, also in classic Javed fashion, the complications led to a better plan: to go shopping, make a spaghetti dinner, get tea for chai (made from scratch, of course), get cake, and watch a Bollywood movie. I stood in the kitchen and put together the meal, and then we enjoyed “Dedh Ishqiya…” stupendous film, by the way. And all in all, a fine birthday, as I had feared I was going to be spending it cakeless and alone.

Bollywood has become my latest passion. I’ve not only been going to a local theater here in town that actually runs Bollywood films, but I’ve been buying DVD’s as well. Dedh Ishqiya, which Javed and I just watched, what a film, I’d like to talk about it for a moment. On the surface the movie seems to be about a pair of criminals and conmen (very much in the style of Firefly), but soon it takes some turns and becomes a movie about women seeking release, and particularly about one woman seeking both a release and a return to who she is and not who the culture might force her to be. Madhuri Dixit is in the film, one of Bollywood’s best, an actress and dancer full of finesse and emotion. She is aging delightfully, though hardly old. Bollywood, a little like Hollywood, seems to prefer it’s women super young, so such a juicy role for Madhuri was a real delight. In the film she has become a rather formal aristocrat, rather like aging actresses become, but there is more to her. Due to her romantic interest, she is encouraged to dance… and what a glorious moment it is to see Madhuri being who she still is… a dancer, a beautiful woman! The camera zooms in close on her silky bare feet as she repeats the exact moves we had all seen in a famous dance scene from one of her earlier films… what a triumph! Madhuri’s character wants this, she wants out of this formal life, and wants to run free and return to her dancing, to her sense of self and not the sense of self derived from societies expectations that aging actors and artists become elderly statesmen. It was inspiring, especially in light of my own reflections on being a year older. In the end the film seemed rather like a tribute, a poem to Madhuri Dixit. My heart soared for her.

Barefoot Justine's birthday bare feet 2016

Barefoot Justine’s birthday bare feet 2016

So, 4 years barefoot. What does that mean? The same thing it means every year, that it’s possible to live barefoot, and there is no need to entertain the thought of conforming or submitting. It means we can live the life we create if we are bold enough to commit to it, if we are strong enough to say “NO” time and again to those who would deprive us of our true selves. I even navigated a situation with a surgeon who I thought was really going to give me a run for my money on this account, but he seems to have backed off. Yes, gang, I went through a surgery this year (involving my face.. it was a nightmare), and all barefoot. I didn’t think I was going to pull all that off, but did. When the surgeon gave me a hard time about it, I simply told him that I had survived cancer in Korea, and a near-drowning in Thailand, and that I had promised myself ever since that I would not conform or submit ever again… I WILL see my vision of my life through, and in that vision I am barefoot. He looked like he wanted to stand his ground, but he backed off, and seems rather content teasing me about it instead. Perhaps I have won him over. Perhaps he is wise as well as a gifted surgeon.

“Solitude scares me. It makes me think about love, death, and war. I need distraction from anxious, black thoughts.”
Brigitte Bardot

Why is it so important that I stay barefoot? There are many reasons, the main one simply being because it is important to me, and that is all the reason I really need. There are also reasonable explanations, and one being that I have a very busy mind, one that tends to chase rabbits into some pretty dark holes, but being barefoot grounds me, keeps my mind on the eternal now. When I am barefoot a part of me is experiencing the sensuality of the world, of my flesh, and of my very being, and all of that helps keep me out of my head… connected to life, to where the real stories are being told. My head is full of illusions, my feet forever in touch with life and living!

What were the highlights this year? I guess getting away with the surgery situation… I thought I had been up against my Waterloo on that one, especially when I had to enter that hospital. Ultimately that one won battle really only convinced me that I need have no fear that anyone can force me to do anything no matter the situation. The problem is, the machine is BIG, you know the machine, the one that tries to suck everyone into its monolithic vision of how things must be, the “THOU SHALTS” and “THOU SHALT NOTS” that are as set in stone as the tablets Moses brought down from the mountain, those blockages in people’s minds that convince them that this or that may not or cannot be done. The constructs of the culture… the bullshit and madness everyone else calls normalcy and reality, which I have learned is nothing more than a logjam of bullshit everyone protects as if civilization itself depends upon it. Hey, guys, break that logjam loose and watch how much more freely the water flows! But no, we are all too afraid that free flowing water will bury our constructs under a flood, a dangerous flood of new ideas and sensual experiences. We are all too afraid of not being protected from ourselves, from true freedom. Well I can tell you, I do not need the constructs of the culture protecting me, I need it to get the fuck out of my way.

But that is the culture’s job, isn’t it, to civilize the wild things… the wild women? Being barefoot is wild, and threatening to those who need society to create and demand submission to its constructs.

What else have I done? I had a nice trip to the Hindu Temple in Orlando. This was another of those lone roadtrips where I hopped barefoot into a car and took off. While the temple itself was great, and while it was magnificent to see Lord Ganesh in all his glory again, the rest of the experience was not so grand, still, barefoot roadtrips are fab. I had another one of those about a month back when I got into the car to go to Jacksonville with some friends (see more on that in a post I put up a few weeks ago).

I also attended the ballet I worked on. That was quite a delight, getting myself all dressed up and sitting in such a cultural moment stoned and barefoot… what a joy! Earlier this year I attended a similar event, a play, and noticed one woman scandalized, she stared at my feet then scurried off to get her husband so she could point to me and my feet… I mean, how weird is that? It’s a rhetorical question, but the answer is… pretty damn weird.

I think the big lesson this year was partially realized just last night, right on my birthday as we were watching our latest Bollywood movie, as my hand slid down over my toes, and as I enjoyed the sensuality of the feel of my own silky topsides and the warm fleshy underside of my toes, as well as the leathery flesh on my soles. This physical body can be a source of pleasure, a source of connection to this experience of being here now, that of being alive. It seems I sometimes forget that, sometimes take it all too much for granted. And in the end, isn’t that what being barefoot is all about? Being connected to my physicality, being sensually aware? I suppose this is a rather long-winded way of saying that being barefoot is the heartbeat of my own hedonism, and that sometimes I take it for granted. That’s really the thing, isn’t it… to learn not to take things for granted, to keep our favorite experiences fresh. And it’s not easy, keeping our joys fresh and our appreciation for them ever-flowing. It’s very easy to forget.

Barefoot Justine's feet at work in her studio in Florida.

Barefoot Justine’s feet at work in her studio in Florida.

I woke up this morning, the day after my birthday, and realized I still had a few things to say about this, so for a while I wrote a little of what you read above, all the while, thanks to the magic of DVD’s, Bardot was being her fabulous wild barefoot self in “And God Created Woman,” and I began to consider how easy it is to lose track of why I do this. The truth is… it’s a buzz… a sensual high, sure it distracts me from my busy mind, sure it’s who I am and what I’m about, but at the end of the day, what it’s really about is the titillation. Yep, that is the truth of the matter, and it’s why I am not on any of the barefoot lifestyle boards, because for me this is most definitely an extension and expression of my sexuality… much as it was for Bardot. Is it a fetish? Perhaps… but it doesn’t matter. It is life, it is a pleasure, and you can call it what you will.

There is one aspect of all this living barefoot that most people might not fully understand, the physiological. My feet have changed, even changed shape. The supple leathery hide of my soles being only the most obvious change. Now that they have been freed from the binding and malforming confines of shoes, they have spread out, particularly my toes. My toes have become not only much more spread out, but vaguely more rubbery. I’m not certain I’ve had a cold or flu since I started living this way. I’m not certain of the science of it, but I know I am stimulating pressure points, invigorating my circulation, and I know we absorb things through our soles. I believe I absorb inert viruses and my body fights them off, like flu vaccinations. The changes have all been for the better… just like the changes in my life. To be quite honest, I have gained far more than I have lost in being so honest and authentic about who I am and what I want. People respond more positively to me now, things happen more readily for me now, and I have become a tad superstitious. My life was not working back when I was conforming and submitting to so many expectations, now it works better, so like hell if I’m going to change, if I’m going to strap boards or bacteria incubators to my feet.

At the moment I am sitting in my studio, my belly full of veggie and shrimp tempura and veggie fried rice from my favorite Thai restaurant (Wahaha), another of those lovely places where I am welcome barefoot. Here now I am very aware of the sounds of Paul McCartney’s deep catalog work playing away in the background, my brave little space heater warming the place up, and of my ever bare feet, a lovely little chill dancing about my toes. And that’s what I want, to be… aware, aware of the music I play, aware of the pleasure of being barefoot… moreso, aware of the intense pleasure of truly being wholly barefoot, of not owning shoes, and of all the lovely adventures I’m going to continue having.

Below… that’s me, smiling away in my studio…

Barefoot Justine in her studio the day after her birthday

Barefoot Justine in her studio the day after her birthday

So, here’s to years of pleasure, of adventures, hope, joy, and hopefully this will be the year the right man comes along. Well… hope springs eternal.

More Reasons I Love Bardot…



“If I go to a restaurant, other people stare. The meal is ruined.”
Brigitte Bardot

“I wanted to be myself. Only myself.”
Brigitte Bardot

“I tried to make myself as pretty as possible and even then I thought I was ugly. I found it madly difficult to go out, to show myself.”
Brigitte Bardot

“What does it mean, being a woman?”
Brigitte Bardot

“Men are beasts and even beasts don’t behave as they do.”
Brigitte Bardot

“I say what I think and I think what I say.”
Brigitte Bardot

“You can be barefoot and have worries.”
Brigitte Bardot

“Solitude scares me. It makes me think about love, death, and war. I need distraction from anxious, black thoughts.”
Brigitte Bardot

“People are forever finding something wrong with you.”
Brigitte Bardot

From Comics To Swan Lake

The hall and empty stage where the ballet would be performed.

The hall and empty stage where the ballet would be performed.

Question: So what happens when a flat-broke comic book artist/illustrator and teacher is asked to create set designs for the ballet?

Answer: She does it.

Sounds easy, but the truth is when I got the call from Kim Tuttle at Pofahl Studios to create set designs for their upcoming production of the ballet “A Haunted Swan Lake,” (to be performed at the The Philips Center here in Gainesville), I felt my heart leap… and for 2 reasons. Firstly, I needed the work: secondly, I had NO idea what I was doing! And I don’t mean at the initial stage, I mean all through the project, at each step, I had to overcome over and over again, the reality that I had no idea what I was doing. I had never designed or painted sets. However, as a veteran creative professional, if I’ve learned anything it is that when I’m thrown into water over my head its better to learn to swim than to get out and shiver. I’d say I’ve learned to fake it, but the truth is, I’ve been at this a long time, and I’ve come to realize that all of these situations are just challenges, and challenges I’ve proven to be up to enough times that I never let on to the client that I feel in over my head. This chin-up confidence has yet to fail me.

For this special Halloween performance they needed to jazz up their set, make it different. My job was going to be turning their pre-existing castle backdrop into a haunted castle, and, of course, all this would have to be done on a budget and within the limits of ballet staging. This budget bit seems to be the challenge of the modern era, how to create something dramatic while getting the most bang for your buck. Actually, it’s not easy, but having been a long time fan of pioneering exploitation filmmakers like Jean Rollin and Jess Franco, I have come to realize that financial limitations can often provide a framework within which real creative work can get done. It seems it’s easy to get lost in a big budget.

First thing that happened was a meeting in which I got a look at the pre-existing backdrop that they had been using in “Robin Hood.” It was a nice castle backdrop, and it provided a spiffy framework from which to create my designs. The next step was that Kim Tuttle took me to her warehouse and showed me where all her props, costumes, and so forth were stored… WOW… what a place! It was jam packed full of objects that had been created for past performances, rather like a dusty, dark and abandoned Wonderland. I took tons of pics of things that I thought I might be able to recycle. Plus, seeing her warehouse clued me in on what her expectations and potential limitations might be. When beginning a job like this any and all information is good. I learned in that warehouse what the limitations and possibilities might be.

She also showed me this tapestry she had bought to hang in the center of the castle backdrop, it was a cool skull, but the problem with it was that it was out of place, too modern, and I really didn’t want to have to work around it, but initially I tried.

The first thing I did was scribble a quick sketch into my diary over lunch, just to get me past the intimidation and to get my juices flowing. At this stage I wasn’t expecting any magic, nor for anything truly useful to happen other than my getting over the fear of the blank page. When starting on a journey like this I can get pretty overwhelmed, even intimidated to the point where the simple act of taking a first baby step is enough to get me past my fear and on to the act of creating.


It didn’t amount to much, nor was it meant to.

As usual, before the real work began, I did plenty of research, assembling a pile of images of ruins and haunted castle stage props, old horror movies and so on. I could not possibly stress enough how crucial the research stage is. I had even gone so far as to research stage design.

After that I sat down in my studio at SAW to come up with 3 initial sketches in an attempt to work out what my concept for the stage design would be, trying to work in sometimes conflicting influences from old Universal Horror films, German Expresssionist films, and so forth, as well as influence from the research I had done. I have to admit one of my biggest sources of inspiration were the original “Imagineers” who designed all those marvelous rides at Disney, from the Haunted Mansion to the Pirates Of the Caribbean. The first of the sketches played off the idea that she wanted the setting to be decadent, so I went with a table covered opulently in food and candles, all set along the back. Oh… and they had a pre-exsting staircaise they wanted to use, so I used it with the idea that we would create a facade to cover it and make it look like the stone stairs of a castle, that was perhaps the only idea that survived my original sketches.

Oh… this sketch was probably most influenced by “Son Of Frankenstein.”


My next attempt was essentially an effort to include that tapestry she had bought on-line, not so much that I wanted to use it, as that I wanted her to see that I respected her request that I try. Also notice that I was already thinking about using gargoyles of some kind… which was the seed of one of the more important ideas to come.


You will notice, that as is customary for me, I was using ballpoint pens and markers at this stage.

The third attempt seemed also to fall rather flat for me, but a key element, in many ways the focal point, had finally come to me, the ruined web-like fabric that would surround what I then thought would be the tapestry she had bought. Though the stairs were the first element to survive, that fabric framing the tapestry (which would soon change) was the pivotal element. But what she really got excited about was that I pitched that besides the show-stopping centerpiece (the skull and fabric), it would be flanked by a pair of gargoyle swans to symbolize both the white and black swans of Swan Lake, which you can see here in embryonic form.


Neither of us were thrilled with any of the above work, but the truth was, I hadn’t intended her or I to be thrilled, I just wanted to get some concepts before her and get some feedback. Sometimes when I’m working with a client who has laid an extremely open-ended opportunity before me, or when I’m working on something I don’t really know much about, I tend to start simple just to figure out where the client’s head is at, and to figure out what I’m capable of. Often open-ended assignments aren’t all that open-ended, they are often riddled with traps, and not knowing what the client is really looking for can be a problem. After this meeting I had figured out what was what and I came up with another sketch based upon the wisdom through our discussions over the prior 3 sketches.



The following sketch (directly above) is literally a tracing from the sketch above it. Now that I had the idea, I had needed to tighten the earlier sketch up into something clearly readable, hence the tracing. By the time I got to this sketch all the elements that were to be part of the final stage design are evident: a resolved focal point in the skull and fabric, the swan gargoyles, a cool fully realized design for the stairs (utilizing a coffin shape), and a couple elements we ultimately excluded. I had no intention of letting this be the final drawing, but when I told Kim, after her enthusiastic approval, that I was going to do a tighter drawing, she looked puzzled and asked what was wrong with this drawing?

Well… nothing, I guess.

As you may not be able to tell at this point, I had decided to opt out of using the storebought tapestry and pitched instead the concept that I would paint the skull backdrop myself (what was I thinking? I didn’t know how to paint!) Add to this that I incorporated skeletal swans as the horns on the skull to tie it all together. I realized that concept (the swans) would carry the set design thematically around the focal point of the fabric-framed painting.

One other element I really liked in the above sketch were the chains. The painting and drapery would have to be hung with chain, and so I decided to work in hanging and drooping chains that would play off the drapery.

The next stage was creating a mock-up of the final centerpiece, the skull and fabric elements. This sketch was originally rather loose, as I had intended to redo a much tighter version of it, but since she had approved of the looseness of the set design sketch, I instead sat down with a red pen and marker and black felt tip pens and simply tightened up the sketch enough that it would suffice, and what happened was a sketch I rather like. This sketch was to become the guiding light for not only the painting, but the drapery.


You may notice that the sketch above looks rather abused, torn, stained and so forth. That is because it was there when I painted the final painting, and it was there when the drapery was being created. The sketch is like an old soldier who has seen a lot of action.

At this point I had also begun designing the newel post statuary as well as the swan gargoyles. I researched Rodin sculptures for the newel post, and went directly to the source for the swan gargoyles… Notre Dame cathedral. What I noticed there were that the gargoyles had very clean spacial sculptural lines that made them highly distinctive. The forms of the gargoyles at Notre Dame were deliciously stylized into a graphic abstraction that now seems almost ahead of its time.




Kim called in a sculptor, and he agreed to take on the swans, but decided he didn’t have time for the newel post, so that element got canned, but our sculptor entusiastically got down to work on the swans. He loved the designs. The first I saw of the swans were the works in progress below, all sculpted by Paul Costanza.


Below are the nearly finished swans on their pedastals, the only thing missing is one of them had to be black, so below you will see the black one in all its finished glory. Needless to say I was thrilled with the outcome. He really captured the sketches I had turned in, and without misinterpreting a single thing. I’ve rarely ever turned my work over into the hands of another artist without being disappointed, Paul Costanza did not disappoint me at any turn.


The next step was to work out the exact size and dimensions of the painting and drapery elements. Kim had me over to the studio where we laid the HUGE backdrop out in one of the rehearsal studios, and we began measuring and plotting. It seemed every time we took a measurement, Kim would shake her head and insist the painting and fabric be bigger… and biGGer… and BIGGER, which frankly scared me as I had no idea how to paint, let alone how to paint a huge expressive and powerful skull! Below are the series of sketches and notes I took regarding the measurements.




You’ll also note in the sketch above that we had this problem of the backdrop showing in an awkward way over the top of the painting and drapery, so in the margins I began creating possible solutions to that problem, but in the end that problems seemed to have resolved itself.

At this point I had to call in some people. Firstly I needed a real painter to help me get going on the skull, and secondly I needed someone to create the tattered fabric element that was going to frame the painting. The first person I thought of was the very person who secured this job for me, fabulous local painter and person… Margaret Tolbert. Her work and the things she concerns herself with in her work could not possibly be further from the art world in which I inhabit, but I knew that what she did would mesh perfectly with what I could do in this situation. The fabric was another problem entirely, and in the end I turned to Tomis Aycock, a local artist and eccentric. I’d seen Tomis work on the most peculiar projects, and having seen the way he works (in a state of wholly immersed childlike wonder), I knew he would get the drapery right.

But before I turned all this over to Tomis, Margaret and I had to hang this monster 14 foot canvas (with a 10 foot image area) in the industrial building SAW is connected to. To tell the truth, as we stood poised to paint that thing, staring at the *B*L*A*N*K* canvas I began to have a bit of a panic attack. I think the first thing I said, standing there brush in hand, was “I have no idea what I’m doing…”

Margaret was a rock. She was not at all concerned about it, and never got impatient with me no matter how freaked out I got. Just trying to draw the basic form of that skull on something so damn huge was an ordeal. No matter what I did, every time I stood back and looked at it, the form was eluding me, it looked wonky as hell on all fronts. I was practically in tears as I tried to torture the form out of that blank canvas, and if it weren’t for Margaret, to tell the truth, I may have had a breakdown. She was more than a pro, more like my painting guru. She just maintained her confidence in not only herself but me. She gave me pointers, and finally, I’m almost ashamed to admit it, I almost pushed her out of the way once I had it. All at once, like a miracle, I could see the form, I could see the skull, I went at it frantically, saying, “I can see it… I can see it!” and soon it was all there. Funnily, I had hurt my foot in all this wild enthusiasm, having jumped a little too hard off the ladder, being barefoot, I had also managed a splinter or two, and by the time I got home my big toe was all bruised. Proud battle scars… well, no scars, but still.

But form was only the half of it, I now had to learn to paint expressively, wildly, had to use long brushes and go at it. Margaret did get frustrated with the way I was using the brush, and finally said to me, “Say something!” Meaning… the marks I was making were timid and terrified, and she wanted me to let loose and move some serious paint around. Soon, what had become terrifying became brilliant fun, and we nailed that painting in several hours, from blank canvas to finish in one early evening. Thank you Margaret!


While it’s a bit of a spoiler, the above pic doesn’t really do justice to the 10 foot painting, so below is an image of how it looked on stage in Ocala. Magic…


Quite an impact. Now, with that underway, I got Tomis going on the fabric, showing him what I was after in my research. I showed him ruins and old drapes, and set him to work figuring it out. I tend to be a control freak about my work, but in this case I knew that I was in over my head with this fabric and that it would be best to let Tomis figure out how to torture and tatter the fabric. To my surprise, in the end, he used a torch to burn the fabric… it looked amazing… so decadent and ruinous.

Meanwhile Kim had a carpenter working away on the facade for the stairs (which I would have to paint to look like stone). At this point I began to realize what an undertaking this was, and just how much I was overseeing. It blew my mind to be in such a position where so many HUGE things were coming to life based upon my rather humble sketches. To tell the truth, it was about as close to being a “grown up” as I have ever felt. I’ve never had a team of people working on my seeing my vision through to reality, a carpenter, a painter, a sculptor, and Tomis on the fabric.

Time was wasting and the performance dates were drawing close. We had 2 shows, one in Ocala, and one here in Gainesville at the beatuiful Philips Center. I still had one last element that I had to tackle, the painting of the facade on the stairs. I decided to call in a SAW student to help me, Javed, and yes… I paid him. As we stood in front of those steps with our sponges and paint I must have said a half dozen times, “I have no idea what I’m doing.” It was difficult to instruct Javed until I knew what I was doing. Fortunately I had seen the backdrop, so I knew a pointilistic sponge texture would do. About a half hour into it, it started to take shape and Javed said “I thought you didn’t know what you were doing?” As I said at the beginning, I’ve been at this a while, and most things are within my reach, which is why I have been so readily taking on jobs I’ve never done before.

Ah… that day I did make the one big mistake all artists dread. We had beverages in cups, and had filled a mop bucket full of water for the paint brushes. So feverish into the process was I that I lost track of my water cup and took a big drink out of our dirty mop-bucket paint-water! I knew what I had done right away and did a spit-take worthy of Lucille Ball, Javed laughing away in the background. In the end I not only showed Javed how to paint stairs to look like stone for a set, but how to change a tire… my car had a flat when we went to leave, and being an old-fashioned girl, like hell if I was going to change that tire with a man around.

As a final note on this, one element about the stairs that upset me was that the wooden dungeon door we’d had crafted did not show from the audience. That was brilliant. I had Javed paint the slats of the door black, then I went over them with a paint-gobbed brush and drew lines in the wet paint to pull out the wood grain, revealing the black underneath.

Javed took a couple pics of the stairs, one before, and one after:



And one image of the stairs on stage (see what I mean about the wooden door being hidden?) Notice also the scar on the stair where some stagehand had scraped the hell out of it.


Finally the big night was upon us, and Javed and I cleaned ourselves up and went to the Ballet. I have to admit, as I entered the hall I was pretty impressed with myself for being part of it. We sat in the third row with nothing between me and my work… all of our work, but a curtain, and I could not wait for it to part so I could finally see it all together.

Oh… I opened the program to see how I was credited… they had misspelled my name. Shrug.

When the curtains parted, there it was, my stage design, bathed in light and color and music, and my jaw dropped. It was beautiful, impressive, dark, everything I had hoped it would be, and I leaned into Javed and said: “I did this!” The lighting really brought it all to life, and the few alterations Kim had to make to satisfy the staging situations were perfect (for example, more drapery was added, and the painting was raised higher than expected… note how hard the super cool chains are to see). Mostly what impressed me was what a great tone and atmosphere the design and lighting had created, and how well it sunk into the music.



As stunned as I was by the site of it all on stage, it wasn’t until the ballet started that I really got it. I was a cog in a magnificent wheel, classical music, classically trained dancers, a gorgeous hall full of people, and my humble sketches brought to life to house it all. A lot of work for a few brief moments in the spotlight.

I leaned into Javed and said, “You know… it only took me 5 hours to do the design work.”




When the curtains closed on the first act I was rather stunned how transient it all seemed. Here I was, a career illustrator, used to seeing my work in print for years to come, and now… it was gone, just a memory.

But it was all worth it, and I realized that just like the dancers, I had to walk away and start the next project.

And so I have.