Oh, We Know What It Means...

Matt and I have been feeling the itch lately, and realized it was high time we visited New Orleans again. This time around, we were infinitely blessed to meet up with my brother, Christian, and my oldest/dearest friend, Tony. As well, it was only natural that we should meet up with the much-lauded celebrity of this blog (as well as the outside world) - George Schmidt!

A large part of our visit centered around the opening of his show at the University of Louisiana Hilliard Art Museum: "Satire, Scandal and Spectacle". This unforgettable evening found us, along with a group of George's fans, models, family and friends, on a bus trip to Lafayette for the show. Along the way we enjoyed the beauty of the Cajun region, a stop in Franklin, a boxed dinner and more - and the show itself was incredibly inspiring, uplifting and filled with the human side of history. The exhibit featured his larger works, centering around the history of Louisiana - Roman law, Jean Lafitte, Storyville, Mardi Gras and political events were only the beginning. His work is incomparable, and only part of what makes George a very special man.
A group photo after the trip, including Tony (next to me), Christian (next to Tony), and Patty Gay. Patty is George's wonderful wife, who we finally got to spend a good deal of quality time with. A true leader in the fight for historic preservation, and a truly endearing woman. What the modern lingo would term a "Power Couple".

Another photo from the bus ride - George had brought along a gifted banjo player for the ride, and Matt joined in on the accordion. Everything from ragtime to German waltzes to traditional jazz was played - I only wish I remember what song was being sung, here!

Finally, two treats from our first night visiting. As usual, we spent some time in the garden at George's studio, trading jokes, chatting on history, listening and learning... the constant highlight of our New Orleans journeys. After a proffered voodoo lily was planted among the jasmine and angel's wings, we headed upstairs, where wine and cheese were served. An honor, to be sure... and eventually Matt found his way to the piano, and played a few tunes.

True, there are myriad other things to do in New Orleans - and we do indulge in them. In such a city that never stops giving and giving, we are more than happy to eat to excess, drink perhaps a bit too much, feast our eyes on the beauty of endless architectural wonders, soak in the unbelievably historic depths of the place... embrace all that we are able to in a short time. But invariably, we find our way back to Julia Street, to laugh, think, reflect and learn - be inspired - by one of our world's great living artists, and a family that champions history and culture. As an illustrator, I inevitably find renewed inspiration, increased respect for my gift, and a better sense of responsibility to keep creating - strength in quality, as well as quantity. I told George that I see him as an adopted uncle, to which he replied, "Good lord! Who'd want me in the family?!" I could certainly do worse!

Kitschmas!

Although it's a bit late, I thought I'd take the opportunity to share a view on our annual Christmas display - perhaps better termed a "Kitschmas Display". For a little over 15 years, I've put up my late 1950s aluminum tree, for two reasons. Firstly, because I've had an obnoxious weakness for the tacky things ever since I saw one for the first time. Secondly, in honor of my late mother, who surprised me on Christmas day with this tree... which happened to be the aforementioned "first vision". In her usual, thoughtful way, she timed the entire gifting process into a great production, involving drama, despair and a beautiful wind-up of relief and celebration. I don't think I've mentioned her often enough in this blog - she was the Real McCoy. On to the ornaments!

This is one of my long-time favorites, likely a Shiny-Brite dating from the WWII era. I recently learned of the company's practice of painted stripes on clear glass, a wise move during a time of rationing and conservation. In this case, less is more. It reminds me of Easter, with white, canary yellow and lilac tones.

My brother kindly sent me this beautiful 1950s flocked icicle piece, along with a slew of other vintage decorations. It's incredibly graceful and fragile as the dickens - pure in nature, likely being the most dignified ornament on the tree year after year.

During their years together, my parents gave each other Easter baskets, but tucked inside German paper eggs. This is a survivor, most others likely lost in moves, or crushed over time and under family records. Luckily, it's small enough to hang from the tree, not causing undue stress to the tinseled boughs.

A nifty Waterford seahorse ornament, reminding me of my happy years as a display technician at the company's Madison Avenue showroom. Waterford's mercury glass ornaments are like explosions of color, vibrating against the silver strands of this tree. No evergreen could show them off anywhere near as much. In the back, you can see a "Giddies" ornament design that I created for the company about 5 years ago, for a second collection that never hit the shelves. A shame, as they outdid the skaters designs hand over fist.

A nice little grouping, including the German pickle. Ours is ridiculously easy to find, thanks to its size and environs - at least we made the effort. Here you can also see one of our wooden pieces, as well as a Peruvian crocheted bird. A number of these more organic items came from the collection of Otto Thieme, the late, remarkable curator of costume, textiles and African arts at the Cincinnati Art Museum. Oftentimes I think of him and his guidance years ago, when I donated a Paul Poiret robe to the museum (another story for another day) - he is well remembered during the Christmas season, thanks to his ornaments.

Finally, our color wheels! Aluminum trees and string lights Do Not Mix Well, thanks to the risk of exposed metal against electric wiring. The solution? Rotating gel lamps, that cast alternating shades against the silver boughs. At night, it's a wonderful effect - and in this case, two are better than one. You can also see the incredible tree skirt that Matt's great-grandmother made by hand, likely in the late 1940s. Outside of many of the ornaments, most of the setup is original, from the wheels down to the tree itself, made by the Revere Aluminum Tree Company (model T-45). I hope you've enjoyed the little tour - I'll likely be revisiting this post come August, if this Texas summer is anything like the last!

Another Year, Another Poster!

Just in time for the holiday season, we will be distributing copies of this poster throughout Dallas, in preparation for our New Year's show at the Kessler Theatre. This is one of my favorites so far, with some new technical twists that I wouldn't have thought of in earlier projects. For those new to Brave Combo (who we are thrilled to share the stage with for the evening), they are a much-beloved group from Denton, TX... and it's very difficult to categorize them. Nowadays, they focus largely on what I would term "fusion polka", incorporating classical, jazz and rock elements into the dance tempo. However, their influences and practices go far beyond that - my first exposure to them was thanks to their collaboration with Tiny Tim, for their album, "Girl". Anyone who appreciates the late, incredible Tiny is good people in my book. But on to the drawing. Let's have a look!

The whole idea here was to connect the Germanic (polka) with the Freewheeling (jazz) - what better way than to feature two pin-ups, toasting the beginning of the new year? My Teutonic cutie sports lederhosen and miesbacher hat, trimmed in a somewhat unorthodox gamsbart. With a characteristically teeny waist and shapely legs, she proves that lederhosen can be sexy. A look at the metallic scroll on the steel-colored garment...

I've said it so many times... I love metallic inks. The mica pops right off the surface of the drawing, and the relatively even nature of the liquid allows for clear, strong delineation of details. It just hums among the more muted pencil. And now for our jazz belle...

Of course, she's a redhead. I figure that I'll likely be doing most of the Charleston dancing that night, so why not? The only caveat - I just wish I had a beaded dress like this one! I shamelessly detest the cheap, historically-insulting fringed "flapper" costumes that have flooded the market since, oh, 1955 - but beaded strands are more than good by me. Hell, I have a circa 1912 evening gown with just that trim all down the front - appropriate is the word. Our girl holds a champagne glass, whereas her cohort prosts with beer - a happy cultural blend.

And now, a look at my favorite aspect at play, the colors!

I've learned over the years that, despite my gratefulness for a steady-ish hand in terms of pen and ink, the color palette I adopt tends to find itself, and evolve over time. Sometimes it's brash, often soft, here and there in-between... it just happens on its own terms. This time around was no different, but I tried a new technique, to help the girls and central timepiece stand out. Over a base of numerous metallic inks, I did a bit of color shading and white-washing, to mute the tones down. What I ended up with reminds me somewhat of the great traditional fairground painters, such as Sid Howell and Fred Fowle. If I haven't mentioned these all-too-often overlooked artisans, Please Look Them Up. They were masters of leafing and painting techniques, highly respected in their time for their work on early English amusement rides. I would be tempted to give any number of toes for the mastery of what those men were capable of...

Anyhow, away from such gruesome praise! I hope you've enjoyed today's entry - I only hope that it won't be the last this year! But, just in case, here's wishing you a wonderful, prosperous, healthy and happy...
... and Many Happy Returns!

Matinee Melodies

Granted, I apologize for this being a touch late to the party - but at long last, I present the poster for our last show, "Matinee Melodies". This was a program celebrating the music of 1930s Hollywood, so I went with simple black and white, with a cinematic theme. Let's have a look at our model...

As Norma Desmond famously said in Sunset Boulevard, "We had faces!" - and I quite enjoy this lady's coy countenance. She holds her trusty Western Electric carbon microphone, although the cord isn't attached to the element - the magic of illustration, in favor of a better line! Her evening gown is cinched with film, that cascades into a train, circling around the perimeter of the drawing...

A lot of fun, as I love to work with long, fluid curves. The "Matinee Melodies" lettering is actually India ink on white bristol - I prefer to let the paper itself show through, rather than use white ink on top. You can see how rough the inked surface is here...

And finally, a little detail - one of her feet. Just short of being indicative of a fetish, I love feet, and get a kick - no pun intended - out of drawing them. Heels, pointe shoes and slippers in particular have a power over my pen, sneaking in at every opportunity.


What else do I like? Seeing these lines so close-up. I tend to get lost in the moment when I'm working, and miss out on how India ink plays with the almost-smooth surface of bristol, like a funny ballet between the weight/control of my hand, and the unique character of whatever nib I'm using at the moment. And trust me, no two are alike - not only in terms of makes and models, but individually. It's a pain and a joy, working with such temperamental tools.

Up next - the antithesis of this drawing, a veritable orgy of color! Stay tuned!

Signs of Spring, or December in Dallas

Lately, the weather around here has been in its transition toward winter - more in the way of rainfall and breezes, a second round of new foliage on the plants, and an overall sense of fresh life. In other words, it's a lot like spring. I learned early on that Dallas offers two "growing seasons" - we're at the tail end of the second this year.

As such, when I sat down to work out the colors of the illustration above my mind turned to floral themes, and tones more traditionally characteristic of May, than of December. I created this one for a greyhound-adoption fundraising auction - with limited time on my hands, I had to keep it simple. And while the lines of the thing are to my mind the most significant aspect, the colors are a joy. I've called it "Crocus Pocus", thanks to the sprout-like shapes and colors in the scale pattern...
How about a closer look, to see the wonderful, reflective mica powder in the metallic ink...

I'm frankly hooked on metallic inks - they give me the effect of tinsel, without nearly the risk of overdoing it. They shade beautifully, too - something I use often for the Singapore Slingers poster designs.

A little close-up of the greyhound's face - I just realized that I subconsciously created a "C" in the dog's ear - for "crocus", I imagine...

In all, lots of fun. The illustration will be auctioned off tonight by the Greyhound Adoption League of Texas, hopefully for a goodly sum. Sadly, they've just taken in eleven abandoned pups with a range of serious medical needs - this fundraiser is indeed timely. Any opportunity to assist in the adoption and care of these magnificent dogs is a pleasure to participate in - I'm glad that I can do so with pen and ink. Here's to helping the animals!

Lives Remembered

Initially I'd held back on posting this illustration, as I created it for a friend who recently lost his father. Being personal in nature, I wanted him to see it before anybody else - but now that the original is safely in his hands, I feel it's proper to share with you folks, too.

Over the years, I've learned, via two-sided experience, that it's almost impossible for me to express grief, or sympathy, for a lost parent through words... whether too strong, or not strong enough, my attempts often fall flat. It's too significant a thing. So I tend to try through illustration - this being an example. I wanted to create a simple, hopeful image to raise his spirits - and honestly, I couldn't think of a better subject than toads. They've brought me a hell of a lot of joy, after all. The banjo refers to the recipient personally - I threw in a pretty lady to serenade on its strings, for good measure. Let's have a closer look at her...

I put her in a frosty, silver dress trimmed with organza and metallic spots - and peacock feathers in her hair, set in a Beardsley-rose ornament. She and the toads are perched on voodoo lilies (amorphophallus rivieri), personal favorites from my garden. The toads, of course, are Gulf Coast specimens - let's have a peek at their faces, just for the sake of personality...


... chipper, and...
... somewhat more serious. The leaves of the voodoo lilies deserve a bit of attention, too - as in reality, they boast a remarkable design of undulating leaves and patterns. They're something of an alien presence among my other plants, their only competition in oddness being Venus Fly Traps and Sarracenia Rosea...


I'm happy to say that our friend enjoys the illustration, to the extent of having it displayed in his living room - I consider that one of the highest honors, others finding amusement and joy in my work. As well, an interesting side note... although it didn't strike me at the time, it makes sense that toads would play such a primary role, seeing as how my own pop adored these little creatures. I'm sure that, subconsciously, I was thinking of him as well, while paying tribute to another's late father. Better yet, both were clearly bon vivants in their own ways - lives truly worth celebrating.

Here's to the memory of loved ones past, and present - at all stages, let's never forget to embrace one another.

If At First You Don't Succeed...

Welcome back, friends! It's Oktoberfest season, and do I ever have an appropriate entry this evening. Matt's Czech polka band, the Royal Klobasneks, are in full two-beat swing this time of year - what better excuse for a new costuming post? Despite the current leaning toward polkas, sausage, beer and festivity, my thoughts have been focused almost entirely on sewing... and my ongoing longing for a dirndl.

Now, I should explain tonight's title. About a year ago I had attempted, via a Butterick costume pattern, a "stand-in" dirndl - a basic Renaissance bodice and full skirt, complete with boning and a fully-laced front closure. It wasn't a great success - binding in the chest, and downright uncomfortable. The main complaint was that it didn't perform like an Austrian dirndl - in other words, it didn't slope off at the breast level, and rise to create the traditional shelf at the center. I salvaged the skirt, but the bodice was a wash.

This season, I decided to take the bull by the horns, and do this project correctly. I can't imagine how many hours I spent researching dirndls - their silhouette, tradition, history and, most importantly, construction. Initially I turned to Folkwear, hoping that their dirndl pattern would do - but was disappointed with the results otherwise skilled sewers had come up with. Worse yet, the pattern involves a dart at the armpit - a serious no-no, unseen in authentic examples. I decided to utilize Folkwear for the blouse, skirt and apron patterns - but the bodice would have to be engineered on my dress form, from start to finish. First of all, two photos of the finished garment, to show the overall silhouette I was aiming for...

The bodice is the main element I'll be talking about here, but I'm very happy with the overall design. Before I delve further into the construction details, I'll mention that the fabric is a remarkable cotton I found at Joann's - I didn't pre-wash, preferring to retain color and clarity at the expense of dry-cleaning. The apron is a quilting cotton, and the blouse is simple white cotton, with soft blue polka dots - trimmed with eyelet. My socks are German, as well as my Tyrolean hat (a gift from Matt).

Now on to the guts of the thing. Adjusting my dress form a size or so downward, I used pins to delineate the curved edges of my bodice, along with the curved back seams, and subtle front seams. While making a muslin dummy I discovered that most of the shelving up front happens at those two front seams, only several inches from the center - there's the slightest bit of give as the join reaches the top, just near the widest part of the chest. Here's a close-up, showing that tiny outward curve...

As well, the interior of the front and center, lined with alternating hooks and eyes. This is a trick I learned from studying and collecting Victorian-era garments - regardless of how the wearer moves, the closure won't give. Many dirndls utilize a heavy zipper for this front closure, but I wanted the fabric design to match up perfectly when brought together. Another interesting point regarding the closure has to do with the structure - while I usually turn to featherweight boning for milder bodice work, this time around I needed something stronger. I frankly didn't want to bother with steel boning - I wasn't completely sure of the length I would need, and had no desire to spend a large-ish amount of funds guessing. I read on a sewing blog (I wish I could remember which!) the perfect item for such a job - heavy duty cable ties. I bought a bag of duct-strength plastic ties, and cut two down to suit the final length. I then sealed the cut ends with electrical tape, so there would be no cutting through the fabric, a typical problem with boning. The result is fantastic, and will be repeated in future corsetry projects.

This photo brings up two neat points - the quilting of the inner and outer materials, and use of bias tape. I lined my dirndl bodice with duck-cloth, to reduce the stress overall, and absorb perspiration. To reduce the separation between the two, I quilted the fabrics together - a detail is shown below. As well, I used bias tape to seal up the seams inside - this is an old practice that I tend to use in corsetry and Victorian costuming. Outside of the center closure, there is no boning in the dirndl - so much depends on the seam placement and "give". The photo below was taken after two days of wear, and shows the stress points along the back seams...

A flower in the print, showing the quilting method I used...

Matt and I together, with a somewhat skewed blend of smiling (him) and staunch (me)! The bodice is finished with cotton cording throughout the seams and edges, a conservative substitute for the often elaborate trims that grace many dirndls. The apron features a new technique to me, shirring - rows of small gathers along the top edge, just beneath the tie. I did this on my machine, using a zig-zag stitch and buttonhole twist thread - the bottom of the apron has horizontal pleats and machine embroidery. Underneath it all, the hem is reinforced with crinoline, and I'm wearing eyelet-trimmed, seersucker drawers - patterned directly from a pair dating from the early 1900s. As I'm (very happily!) married, my apron is tied on the left.

I'll admit that this was initially one of the more intimidating projects I've tackled - I wanted to do justice to the dirndl, and find that balance of comfort, while flirting with constriction. Although I could have purchased a ready-made piece, I wanted the fit to be perfect - no gaps, no heavy binding... and without need of alteration. Our good friend Valina (who, with her husband Ross, perform as "Das ist Lustig!") helped me move forward on the home-made route - her mother makes her performance dirndls, unhappy with the modern ready-made examples. Her construction advice was most useful, and gave me the courage to invest in the needed materials and Do Something. I'm thrilled with the results, and look forward to more Royal Klobasneks shows this season, and in the years ahead.

To you all, Ein Prosit der Gemutlichkeit!