Fame and fences

Firstly, the Yonder Mountain String band was awesome.  And with the help of one feisty red head and her super-tall husband, we were able to get a blackbird/crow/woodpecker on the stage right in front of the new mandolin player-- despite efforts by The Man to keep us back.

Let me just say, I LOVE Greenfield Lake Amphitheatre.  And I get it.  People sit on the stage and screw with the wires and likely spill beer where it shouldn't be spilled.  I see how a fence might seem like a good idea.  But it was weird.  And the whole front row just collectively decided to push it forward-- so it was pretty useless, really. 

Earlier this summer, you may have noticed, they started fencing off the little area in the woods where folks used to be able to listen for free.  And man, I get that, too, even though I think it's dumb.  I can't help but think that the tailgating will be tackled, homogenized, patrolled, and ruined soon enough-- just another reason to enjoy this amazing venue before the creeping tentacles of security and capitalism choke it out.

Fortunately, birds pay fences no mind.  They sing and they fly without fear or inhibition. Blackbirds, in particular, sing to sooth themselves, to communicate, to warn, and seemingly just to make music.  They tell us to heed warnings and omens.  To pay attention to signs from the universe and from nature. To listen carefully. This one has a yin-yang symbol on it's back and a heart on it's chest.  If you are in balance, and paying attention, your heart will pull you down the right path.  Yonder Mountain certainly seemed on the right path.  They let go of the showy mandolin player and the new one seemed a much better fit-- and the fiddler!  The FIDDLER!  

In other news: we're famous!  Wilma magazine did a little spread about this project.  It makes the whole thing seem so legitimate, doesn't it? 

 

Thank you for the encouragement spirit people!  And for all the help-- for laughing with us AND at us!  For getting jazzed about giving AND getting-- this is a great community...goodness all around! 

 

We will be out this weekend with the last batch from the late summer firing: buffalo, bear, deer, chipmunk-- and then back to the mud-oven for those of us who are fall animals.  Love to all the beautiful beasts!  Happy Labor Day weekend!

 

 

Grifters and gifters

     One of my favorite things about this project is recruiting new mules.  I can't be the only one out there dropping spirit animals in purses and pockets-- heck, I'm already starting to get recognized as oddball spirit animal person--anonymity is golden and this is a community art project, after all.  

     The thing is, giving the animals away is just as much fun as receiving them.  Some people immediately get that and want to be a part of it.  Last night at the Duck and Dive a friendly bearded weirdo got in the groove.  This dude is a natural.

     If you read this blog, you likely know that I stick these things in all kinds of places: crevices, bathrooms, unattended coats, etc.  Well, the best and the most difficult maneuver, the holy grail, is to get an animal in an actual pocket without being noticed. 
     On his very first attempt, this very talented animal placing beardo got a little bear in the back pocket of a tall swarthy fellow on the front stoop.  His pocket was wide open and wagging, but still, the dude was standing up-- and didn't feel the little bear go in, nor did he feel all the eyes on him as we watched it almost fall out, then work it's way down.  All completely unnoticed. 

     This happened to be a little galaxy bear: half dark, half light.  The thing with bears is this: they are often misunderstood.  Bears are often pegged to be aggressive, intimidating, but in reality, they just want that carton of eggs from your garbage dumpster.  They're hungry.  And then they want to sleep.  They're just being bears!  People with bear medicine generally have a dark side, but it only shows up when they're poked or threatened.  These folks would do themselves a favor to learn from that dark side-- to hibernate/meditate about how they turn that darkness into something lighter: art, music, humor, something.

     I also left a little arch-backed cat.  I called it a pooping cat, but my new bearded animal gifter preferred to call it a racing cat.  Either which way, this is a cat in the middle of something.  Racing or pooping?  I guess it depends on who it went to. You be the judge.    

trouble in birdland

It's been an interesting week over here in the beast factory.

Firstly, we had an interview and photo shoot with a local magazine!  The article is set, we think, to come out in the September issue.  More on that if (when) it actually happens. 

Secondly, we had our first ever experience where somebody was downright angry about a spirit animal.  It was a hummingbird.  And she was angry because I apparently gave it to her attractive husband weeks ago.  (I had no idea-- couldn't remember the guy or the beast, which she found very hard to believe.  Shows how much she knows about this project and the people running it.)  She went so far as to introduce me to the hummingbird husband-- who I still did not remember-- but I think the hummingbird was right on-- playful, fiercely independent (I mean, the wife wouldn't be so worried otherwise, right?) fast moving, turns on a dime.  Hummingbirds are filled with energy.  Until they're not.  Folks with a hummingbird totem need to be careful to refuel and rest once in a while or they'll burn out.   
      I tried to explain that I am interested in the animal spirits, not the human ones; but it was evident that this woman was not digging my dirt.  She was maybe a wolf spider.  Or a praying mantis.  Either which way, it was weird.  From now on, I'm going to be careful about animal spirits and married men...ha!  NOPE!  Ridiculous!

Lastly, Sunday SUPER Moon.  Happy last days of summer!  Watch your pockets, friends!


       

nuts and bolts

World tour is over.  Beasts wound up all over North Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee, even CostaRica.  They were left in trees, rocks, Volkswagen vans, bicycle baskets, and who knows where? 

A new batch is about to go in the fire.  An autumn batch.  Because the beginning of August always forgets to remind us that winter is right around the corner.  This is the part of the year when we tend to give up and forget what we're doing: Too hot to move.  Tomatoes and figs falling off the vines right into our sandwiches.  Nothing whatsoever to worry about.  And then the bugs eat the fruit.  And it keeps raining forever.  So we here at Wildbeings intend to enjoy the rest of this hot, muggy, wet summer, but store our nuts all the same.