Arts and Crafts and Paper Chains

My wind chime materials don't exactly...chime. Maybe I should call them mobiles. Kinetic sculptures? All of the above just sound so...I don't know, official. A higher class of art. It's not really a sculpture. It's the result of hanging things from other things. 

Then and again, maybe the definition of art is "random things thrown together in a way that can be interpreted symbolically." It would certainly explain all of the pieces made out of sticks and sheep excrement that I saw at the Tate Gallery this summer.

Paper stars on paper chains. I just loved that line.

Also, I just noticed a creepy mask cameo.

Admittedly, it is a little late for Christmas, but I still think it's pretty. Wintry. If only I can find a way to hang it in my dorm room...

I Spy - Two barrel monkeys, a small jar of Nutella, a plastic snake, an apple, an empty spool of thread, and a bell. 

Clyde the Window Cat

So named because it looks as though he was catapulted into a window. Isn't he cute, though?

He looks slightly more deformed in this photograph than he does in real life, for the record.
Unlike my other creations, he also sits up by himself! How super, right?

Steampunk Rainbow Bunny

I'm not really sure if this qualifies as steampunk, as the only, well, steampunk-y thing about it is the metal eye. I like to think, though, that it's actually a bunny-cyborg and it can use its eye to shoot laser beams and stuff. Perhaps with the combination of cute adorableness and a bronze death ray it could classify.

I guess, worst comes to worst, though, I could just call it Rainbow Cyborg Bunny. ...In all honesty, I think I like that name better.

I may like to shoot things with lasers, but at least I don't eat souls the way normal bunnies eat tasty carrots!

Paper Trees

I wrote a Christmas song! It has very, very little to do with Christmas, but I really want it to be a Christmas song. It does have references to snow, and snowy trees, and also there's a few lines that vaguely resemble "We Three Kings" (vaguely). So that qualifies it, right?
Seriously, though, I'm sick of all the kitschy secular songs, and all the songs with good chords and melodies are hymns. It's a shame. We need more people to write Christmas songs. Good ones, preferably. I'm looking at you, "All I Want for Christmas is You".
Wow I hate that song so much.
Truly, though, there's an absolute dearth of new Christmas songs, as evidenced by malls playing the same ones over and over and over and over until your ears bleed. This is a serious problem.

As usual, I apologize for terrible video quality, and also the off-key vocals. I'm still experimenting with precisely how the melody should go...so just listen to the pretty piano, okay? I'll probably fix this once I figure everything out.

Paper Trees: A Christmas Song

Paper trees

Bowed to me

Said, “Joseph,

You'll be king of fleas.”

Ash fell down

Burned my crown

Paper trees

Fell down

Paper trees

Reached to the sky

Said, “Joseph,

You'll be lord of flies.”

And when the sky

Was cold and grey

The paper flakes

Had fall'n all day

I laid down

Kissed the ground

Begged for stars

To guide the way

Paper chains

And birds in vines

Traded for

Twelve cups of wine

And paper trees

They reached to me

Said, “Joseph

You belong to me.”

Said, “When you look up

From the well

I'll give you stars

And snow as well."

And paper chains

They burned away

And I could finally

Rise to say

“Stars of night,

You bow to me,

I'll be the lord

of Eternity,”

And then the stars

Venus and Mars

Sirius and Achenar

Paper stars on paper chains

Fell all apart

In snow and rain

I lay looking

Up the well

Paper trees

As snow they fell

And I lay looking

At the stars

Sirius and Achenar

And I knew

Paper falls

Paper tears

Paper's all just pretense there

Paper trees

Bowed to me

Said, “Joseph

You'll be king of fleas.”

Paper trees

Bowed to me

Said, “Joseph

You'll be king of fleas.”

Ravenclaw Scarf

Took me long enough to finish this.

It's a simple straight stitch knit, but I think it looks fine. Of course, I won't be able to wear it for another 5 months, but that's all right.
In other news, this is the bulkiest scarf ever.

As an Astronaut

Under the lotus moon, holes like seeds, we flew. We had nothing to our name, we had no one left to blame. We had nothing left to do. So we flew.
And it was lonely, and we cried, and we fought, and we lied, to each other and to ourselves. But we had nothing left to hide. Lies can only get you so far. You need truth and stories to get you the rest of the way to the moon.
Sometimes, when we stared into the dark, we swore we could see the horizon and the rising sun. But there was no horizon, and there would never be one again. Not while we flew. Never again.

Frankendress

As you know, I've been making a dress for the past few months in preparation for prom. I finally finished it last Wednesday, two days before prom itself! That was cutting it close, I am quite aware, but not nearly as close as my other friends who also made unique prom apparel. One friend made a scale mail vest and another a periodic table dress, and both of their projects were only completed the afternoon of prom. So really, I was way ahead.

My dress was modeled after flapper dresses and insanity. The form was a strapped dress with a semi-fitted top and middle, and was tight to the knees where there was about a foot of flaring fabric. There was also a ribbon in the middle, and the overall effect was something of a twenties-type dress. However, I constructed the entire thing out of various patchwork pieces of fabric in a semi-coherent amalgamation of awesome. The end result is a little like me: completely insane but pretty damn gorgeous.

Actually this is an awful picture of me, but I'm not vain. (The correct term is "prideful", thanks.)
I made it using my own pattern that I made by measuring myself. Learning to read a pattern would be annoying and, in my opinion, would be a little like following a recipe. I prefer being my own pastry chef, thanks. Granted, the end result would probably be nicer if I had followed a legitimate pattern, but also, that would negate the fun learning experience which this was. And I am a huge fan of learning.
I don't think they make patterns for a dress like this, either.
Granted, I made some errors along the way, such as not measuring everything perfectly and in fact making it too long and then having to chop off part of the top and sew in darts so it fit properly and also screwing up and causing awkward bunchy spots to be made in the back. That wasn't so successful. The gestalt is decent, though, so I'm willing to let it slide in the name of learning. LEARNING! YAY! (Also I ran out of fabric for the frill on the bottom so one side is frilled and one side isn't but it's okay because you can't see it unless you're looking for it.)
(It's called Frankendress for a reason).

Other things: You may notice in the photo - I am wearing the pointiest pair of shoes known to human. Every single one of my friends thinks they are hideous except me, but that's okay. I like them, and they can pass as either witch shoes or retro heels, so really they're incredibly multifunctional if you're someone who dresses like either a witch or a flapper, which I do. Useful, right?!

I think my next project is going to be a green dress for a friend or maybe a red dress for me...I'll have to confer and see. Stay tuned for more exciting installments of "Madeleine Makes Weird Things And Talks About Them With Too Many Exclamation Points!"

Try walking a mile in my boots

Is it okay if I just interject as many boot-related jokes as I can? Great.

I have a pair of combat boots I acquired a year ago for far more than they were worth. They were gorgeous, very punk rock-looking pieces of complete crap. Though initially they looked really nice, it didn't take more than a few months of wear for the fake leather to peel, the soles to fall off, the treads to wear down by 0.25 centimeters, and the black shoelaces to mysteriously fade to red. Let's just say, these boots weren't made for walking.

I can't help it, though. I love them. I love them to pieces. They've still managed to look boot-iful and be relatively functional, even in their advanced stage of disrepair. I love them enough to invest an inordinate amount of time trying to save them from their inevitable destruction. I've re-glued the soles five times (in both the front and back) and colored in the peeled leather with sharpie. I've continued to wear them even after the glue from fixing the sole squirted up into the shoe and hardened into an uncomfortable lump directly under my heel. I love these boots.
I get that the feeling isn't mutual.

Recently, my boots have decided to play a new game with me. The zipper on the side of my left boot broke. This left a whole side of the boot flapping around, and my foot practically falling out of the side. I'm trying so hard to fix it, but it's a real pain in the boot-y. I've tied the laces about it, even wrapped a belt around it just to keep it together.

It didn't work. There was still an entire section on the side where the boot bulged out, exposing my socks. Not effective.
So instead of that, I sewed up the side, right where the zipper was.
This seems to be working for the moment, though I don't know how long it'll hold up. It's just normal thin thread, and one snapped thread could ruin it all. Furthermore, without a zipper, I have to lace it up the front, which is a pain in the boot.
Though it pains me deeply, I think it may be time to give these boots the boot. I guess I'm going to have to lace up my big-girl boots and put the body in the boot.

Oh, god! The jokes, they burn! Someone save me from myself before it's too late! Ahhhhhhh! Oh god! They're too much! It's too much!

IT'S TOO LATE. 

Sneak Peek

After a while, all of the prom dresses you can buy at the store all start looking alike. They have similar cuts, colors, and patterns. They're all pretty, but...boring. This year, I told myself that my prom dress was going to be the most unique dress ever, so help me FSM.

So, far, so good:

Ethnography of a Cemetery

For English class a while back, we were charged with studying a group of people and writing an ethnography. An ethnography is a paper on a particular "culture" of people, be it the patrons of a coffee shop or the people of an entire nation. In the paper, you are supposed to determine the rules by which the people live, especially if they're different from any stated rules, and you must figure out how the people are similar and what it takes to become one of them.
I actually wrote my paper on the Apple store at the mall, but the other day I was sitting in the cemetery having a picnic and came up with this gem.

Ethnography of a Cemetery

Day 1: Spent day sketching in cemetery and slowly making my presence seem normal to them. Soon they will all forget I'm here at all... if they even notice I'm here in the first place. They're sort of a sedentary lot.

Day 8: Struck up a conversation with a lovely old woman today. She didn't talk much, but she nodded and twitched occasionally, and once she looked at me. That was actually the result of her eyes dropping out of her head, but I could tell she was interested. I think she need a bath, though.

Day 14: Am getting frustrated. None of the locals will talk to me. I will pleasantly attempt to start some small talk, but none of them respond. As far as I can tell, I've done nothing wrong - I have neither been offensive nor off-putting. I can only assume it's because I'm an outsider, and they are naturally suspicious of those unlike them.

Day 25: Today I tried to blend in with the natives by laying very still in the grass. I even acquired one of the fancy carved rocks that they all place by their head, and which I assume is a sign of social standing. The more important ones all appear to have the largest, fanciest rocks. I wonder if I do this consistently they will eventually come to accept me as one of their own.

Day 31: The natives here are still not talking to me. I'm not certain, and I hesitate to use this explanation as an excuse for ending my study, but I think, maybe, potentially, it's because they're all dead.

Ghost Bunny

The thing about my creations is, no matter how horrific, deranged, or completely demonic they look, they will never try to eat your soul with their little bunny teeth.

Except Ghost Bunny, of course. But only when I say so, because I rule all of my creations. 

Do not anger Ghost Bunny. Or his friend Grace. Or me, because Ghost Bunny will suck out your soul. With his little bunny teeth. And then he will proceed to eat it in an adorable manner, rather like a crisp, crunchy
carrot.

EXCEPT THAT CARROT WILL BE YOUR SOUL.

Sir Tuttington

Happy birthday, Jess! I made you a turtle. You can name him anything you like, as long as it starts with Sir and ends with Tuttington. First and middle names, though, go for it!

He's a little lopsided, but, well, everything I make is a little lopsided.

UPDATE: His first name is James. Sir James Tuttington. I like it.