What with all the trips to the thrift shops, followed by a frenzy of snip-snipping and glue-gun-play, the posting part of Halloween takes a back seat.
Yet I'm compelled to write up a record of the making, not to display any costume-construction prowess but to share the power of visual communication and collaboration.
I make a lot of time for costume-making with any kids (or adults) who are truly into dreaming up a vision for themselves beyond purchased costumes of characters branded by a marketing firm. We start with an idea, and I ask for some Costume Plans: visions of their idea, complete with descriptions for each component if they know how to print.
I make a lot of time for costume-making with any kids (or adults) who are truly into dreaming up a vision for themselves beyond purchased costumes of characters branded by a marketing firm. We start with an idea, and I ask for some Costume Plans: visions of their idea, complete with descriptions for each component if they know how to print.
I take a good look at each of those drawings (the real Halloween treats) and think about the simplest way to make that costume with that kid. I try to translate the great energy of that mark-making into 3-D versions. It always works out.
Take that inspired crow drawing (No, you may not; that's a keeper.) All those thick black, spontaneous, spikey lines are very Franz Kline. Or, more to the point, that old Steve Martin disrupter image in front of the Franz Kline.
The kid who conceived that crow helped snip-snip some jagged feathers out of black lining with her mom as I glue-gunned them onto a thrift-store skirt-turned-poncho. We attacked a baseball hat with more jaggedy feathers to reflect the drawing. When she tried it on, she was clearly feeling Crow and began flying around the living room.
Like the Steve Martin treatment of the Kline piece, I'm a big fan of taking the piss out of High Art. Unlike Painting or Sculpture, we permit ourselves to put a lot of fun in costumes, especially if they're only for one night, for an activity involving racing around the neighbourhood after dark in a wild candy-grab.
Take that inspired crow drawing (No, you may not; that's a keeper.) All those thick black, spontaneous, spikey lines are very Franz Kline. Or, more to the point, that old Steve Martin disrupter image in front of the Franz Kline.
The kid who conceived that crow helped snip-snip some jagged feathers out of black lining with her mom as I glue-gunned them onto a thrift-store skirt-turned-poncho. We attacked a baseball hat with more jaggedy feathers to reflect the drawing. When she tried it on, she was clearly feeling Crow and began flying around the living room.
Like the Steve Martin treatment of the Kline piece, I'm a big fan of taking the piss out of High Art. Unlike Painting or Sculpture, we permit ourselves to put a lot of fun in costumes, especially if they're only for one night, for an activity involving racing around the neighbourhood after dark in a wild candy-grab.
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