Keeping the Passed Present with Allison Gilbert

I haven't written much in the last year. To be honest, I've been busy at the gym, contributing to global warming by burning off my hibernation reserves. This doesn't mean that I haven't been making and selling things aplenty. I have been a busy, and happy, badger. I'm very happy indeed to talk about a book that my crafts are featured in, twice!


For a Sacramento girl, it's a brave new world indeed to bring me into contact with Emmy-award-winning CNN journalist and writer Allison Gilbert.

I first met Allison at the Wear It, But Don't Bear It fundraiser I put together at Tarrytown's W@tercooler. I just knew her as a generous friend of Jenifer Ross, and one of the many locals who came out to help two girls who lost their mother through domestic violence.


When Allison contacted me again, it was to ask me for help with her new project: a book that listed ways to honor and keep present the spirits of loved ones who have died.


Initially, I feared it would be a grim undertaking. But like Allison herself, the result is a thoughtful, heartfelt, and surprisingly upbeat book of practical tips, crafts, and artists' work.


Buy it on Amazon!

You should really buy the book, if not for you, then for someone you love. For now, I'll show you a little of what I did with Allison to merit two spots in Passed and Present.


Memory Keeper


Allison inherited a collection of her grandmother's recipe notebooks, which were packed with decades of glued-in magazine clippings (sometimes layered one atop the other) and her handwritten favorites, plus critical evaluations written in pen and pencil: "Excellent," "Very good," "So-So"....


I love that "Recipes Of The Stars" card so, sooo much. See those little clippings
at center and bottom? Those are Grandmother's notes, and happily most are
"Very Good" 

Allison wanted a way to see and display her grandmother's favorite recipes and her handwriting. Together, we chose three boxes--two small cigar boxes and one medium-sized, lidded wooden box that used to house some very fine wines. (I didn't drink the wines. I just get the boxes from a neighbor, who is a chef). Then I went to work to decoupage Allison's favorite images and recipes on each. The two small boxes went to Allison and her brother, each with a treasured recipe and Grandmother's handwritten note, "Allison's favorite" and "Jay's favorite" on the lid. The wine box, seen here, is also big enough to carry the rest of the recipe books.




It's covered inside and out with great pictures and handwritten comments.

Film Vases and Bowls

The other commissioned project I made for Allison is a pair of objects made out of her family's old 8mm home movies. I've talked before about making vases and bowls out of film stock and movies that I pick up at tag sales and on eBay.  


Allison made digital copies of all the 8mm movies she inherited--hooray for The Cloud, right?--then handed me the originals.


I had so many reels that I was able to make two pieces for her: one with a piece of redwood burl as the base, and one with a vibrant Greek ceramic coaster. 8mm is too narrow to make very tall pieces, but I think these turned out beautifully.




The bowl is about 10 inches in diameter, and the vase is about 8 inches tall.
I used water-based polyurethane on these, for a matte effect. Folks at
Allison's book tour meetings, called "Memory Bashes," are pretty much
astonished by these, which they keep thinking must be made out of records.

Passed and Present is selling well, and it's getting rave reviews in People Magazine and on The Huffington Post. Thank you, Allison, for this opportunity, and may your Memory Bashes all be awesome!

If you'd like to commission a box, bowl or vase, or pick out a pre-made film vase or decoupaged box (featuring old comics and cultural icons), contact me directly at tanyamonier@gmail.com or via Etsy, through my shop, Happy Badger Industries.


In a year of huge cultural losses, global (including but not at all limited to Bowie and Prince) and local (Tarrytown's Hank's Alley, The Thrifty Squirrel, and beloved W@tercooler all closed this year), I'm glad that I can do something to keep my own lost loves bright, encased in resin, literal and digital.


Till next time!




Copyright 2016, Tanya Monier

 

Waiting for the Barbarians: Philadelphia Punk Rock Flea Market

Yesterday was the day I was prepping for all winter: Philadelphia's Punk Rock Flea Market.

I hoped to sell at least $500 worth of stuff, including all my Playboy coasters and new Playboy Vargas Girl Box Shrine, which I made in one long night instead of the yebra (Syrian style grape leaves) that Badgerette #1 requested for Family Heritage Day at her school.

Let's be clear: I did not bring the shrine to school as an example of family heritage.

I felt insecure about my Punk Rock credentials, though, a feeling that was hilariously reinforced by a childhood friend, Otaku USA editor Pat Macias, who--just two days before the market--posted this 90s commercial "Punk CD" on Facebook.


I was in tears by the time these two listed "Hey Now" by Crowded House. 

I reposted it and burst into giggly tears again when my friend Guy quipped, "Thought it was a joke till I heard 'Huey Lewis'...Legit."

Pat didn't attach my name to the original post, so maybe I was being overly sensitive, like that person who panics when someone in a crowd shouts, "Hey, YOU!" But even in my teen Death Rocker days, Pat called me "the Camp Counsellor," a name I deserved because I was actually a very good girl... and because I wore red plaid flannel shirts to bed, so I looked the part, too.

But, Pat, answer this: Does a Hustler need to BE a punk to sell the goods to punks?

On the off chance my punk creds were questioned, though, I wore the most punk rock shirt I owned: Radiolab "Apocalyptical: Dinos De Los Muertos."

Cuz nothing says Punk Rock like NPR.
Watch the show here!

As with the Trenton Avenue Street Fair, Jonelle and I drove for three hours to arrive just in time to throw our goods out for perusal. By opening time at 10:00 am, we were sweaty, but mostly ready.

Evidence of my OCD Winter of Craft: I needed more space!

Jonelle made seriously brilliant stuff for the sale. Check out her store.

And, just like at Trenton Ave, there were so many people in attendance at the Punk Rock Flea Market that I had to fight some feelings of agoraphobia.

This was the short side of the warehouse.

Wanna find our stall? Look against the far wall, to the left of the big banner. We were between the small yellowish square thing and that black box thing, right under the huge wall fan, which blew delightful air right over us to the secondhand clothing sellers crew wearing the fishnet stockings. But we did get the noise of the fan, so that was something.

Two hours in, I had gotten many enthusiastic and sincere compliments on my work, but I'd only sold $23... of magnets, naturally. My part of the table, gas, and road tolls alone totalled $80+, so I was on the verge of real tears, perhaps realizing too late that punk rockers have budget issues like the rest of us.

Then suddenly, sales started to happen.

Emma here took home my Bowie box

May your spirit fly with Wonder Woman, Amy!

This young lady couldn't resist my box of Liza in Cabaret...

I did a little dance at 1:15pm, when I reached $150 in sales and realized that I would end up in the black after all (never got to $500, but no tears). Although I had to drop prices like a reverse auctioneer to make it happen, the sales kept coming.



Just put the box on a shelf, Dear Girl, and no one will see
that I messed up and put the back page on upside down, the sad result of finally
getting HBO and watching John Oliver while working.

Natalie, another vendor, leaped on this 1969 LIFE Magazine cigar box purse with
Samsonite handle. Bonus: it totally matches her outfit!

Robert, adorably sweat-free in this blazing hot warehouse, took two boxes
(Spider-man and Wonder Woman) plus this WW votive for his dining table.

Gorgeous Anna here took home Wonder Woman "Welcome to My Nightmare,"
my most difficult glass decoupage piece. Treat it with love, Anna; it can do magic.

There were down times throughout the day and too quiet a crowd when the nearest stall stopped blasting the psychobilly (My Favorite is The Cramps). There were times I got distracted from my sales mission, too, like when I tried to make a love connection between sweet Dan here and a gorgeous Irish girl from Wexford who's travelling around the world.


Remember, Dan, just write. The Man in Black wasn't brilliant every moment, either.
Trust the revision process.

Ziggy Stardust sold. Iggy Pop sold. The Clash sold. The Ramones sold. AC/DC sold. The Rolling Stones sold. Nirvana sold. Vintage Romance Comics sold. So did Frank Sinatra, and Sammy Davis, Jr., and Star Trek, and Cher. But Playboy DID NOT SELL. Not one thing. Bunch of Puritanical punks, you Philly folks who've left me with yet another kind of Playboy problem...overstock.

For many hours yesterday, no matter what people bought (or didn't buy) one item caught everyone's attention: The Freddie Mercury Lightswitch Cover.

In a sad parallel to Freddie's real life, every shopper pointed at, picked up, and inappropriately touched it. But no one was willing to make a commitment to him... until this lovely girl heard me despair for poor Freddie Lightswitch and bought it on the spot. She didn't even bargain.


Dear Lovely Girl: don't be too surprised if you get a virus from this kiss.
I mean, a hell of a lot of hands touched Freddie yesterday.

In the last hour, from 4-5pm, I went into full Carnival Barker mode, yelling to passers-by, "C'mon over here and fall in love with something! I'll name a price that you'll love, too! You'll buy it, take it home, and be smiling in your sleep tonight, knowing you got the best deal ever!"

I think I startled Jonelle with my vehemence, but I wanted to make another hundred in sales. And I did. Anyway, I've been doing shameless things to make sales since I was thirteen and Little Mamacita let me dress like this for a St. George Melkite Church bake sale in Sacramento's Country Club Mall.

Several Old Man Mall Walkers lewdly offered Pull My Tail.
I enjoyed retorting, "I'm THIRTEEN, Mister!" every single time.

I was back home and in bed before midnight, wearing my flannel jammies and sleepily debating with The Prince of the Forest what really constitutes "Punk." If I am to judge by the patches the flea market kids pinned to their spiked leather jackets, then Rush, those venerable Canadians, are punk. 

Tom Sawyer, dude!

(Take that, Pat.) If Punk means body modification and tattoos, then half the mothers I know in Westchester, one of the richest counties in the USA, are punks. If Punk means dyeing your hair blue or purple, then a decent percentage of America's high school cheerleaders are now punk. If Punk means expressing deep alienation from a society that demeans and abuses you and holds your intellect and abilities in contempt, then ALL the mothers I know are Punks. Fight the Power, Mamas!

I think punks and other supposed social oddities have always been those who wear their hearts on their sleeves. The toughest punk I saw at the Trenton Avenue Fair proudly marched along the artists' stalls behind his pig-tailed daughter who was driving her electric pink Cadillac and blasting Katy Perry's "Eye of the Tiger," a craft beer in one heavily tattooed hand, his daughter's dripping pink ice cream cone in the other.

I enjoyed the moment too much to take a photo, so I drew it for you.

Copyright 2015, Tanya Monier

My Playboy Problem

About a year ago, I bought 14 copies of 1960s and 1970s Playboy, which I found moldering on a shelf at my favorite second-hand shop, Tarrytown's Hank's Alley.




A few I haven't chopped up yet.

As I forked over a modest amount of green, Hank winked at me, "You'll make your money back on these, Honey."

See, at the time, I told Hank, "I'm gonna resell these on eBay." Until I did some online research, I thought I'd get a decent return, turning a $30 investment into $300+. A few minutes' search proved me wrong. Turns out, horny 1960s and 70s college boys did a fine job of squirreling their naughty stash away, and they all want to unload now (pun intended, I guess.)

As I flipped through my new purchase, I also discovered that about half of my new Playboy collection was literally moldering, torn and water-damaged.

After giggling and eye-rolling my way through the lot, I put a profitable plan into action.

I've made shrines to Playboy's classic Vargas Girls...

"What kind of peace did you have in mind, Mr. Smith?" SOLD

...game boxes full of mischief...

I think the lambskin rug gives this box the right kind of sleezy swinging feel. SOLD

...and briefcases that bite the hand that feeds it.

Interestingly, not sold...Learn more about this case here.
I'll gladly make a deal to get it out of my life and into yours...

I turned these kitschy coasters...


...into these kitschy coasters.

Again, SOLD.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh...and the problem is...?"

Well, last night, while prepping for Philly's Punk Rock Flea Market on June 7 (be there!), I hit a snag...

I was again making coasters--because Small Things Sell--upcycling thrift shop and church sale tins of coasters...


...like these: $.75 at Goodwill...

...and these, $3 for the lot at The Cherry Door. I can't possibly use all of these,
so if you're ever walking down Main Street in Tarrytown and you feel
something lightly thwap! the back of your head, worry not--
it's just me practicing my frisbee skills.

Then, the snag: this set, bought for $3 from Union Pocantico Church Spring Sale.

See the problem?

At first glance, I only thought, "Metal. Nice. Cheap(ish). BUY!" When I flipped the canister over last night, I felt my first small shock: $65 for coasters? I mean, I know this was donated to one of the richest churches in America, but, uh, $65...?



Alan Chan Creations: "Rediscovery of cultural art for contemporary life style."
Yeah, fair enough. But $65?

 So, I opened the tin, laying the truth bare. (again, pun intended)

Mr. Chan, you dirty, dirty dog. 



Is that 1st base or 2nd?



On the mat



In the forest



I don't know...in the bath?



Is she gouging out his eye? Ugh. Different strokes...

As I looked Mr. Chan's upcycled images over, things became clear in my mind: "Ah, so this is what you get for a former 1960s Playboy reader!"

 

And things became unclear: "Should I cover these ancient smut scenes with merely vintage cheesecake?" 

So, that's my problem. For now, I'm covering the cardboard coasters, but I want at least one more tin of metal coasters for Philly.



Am I alone in thinking that these young women, with their unaltered bodies and their playful expressions are more attractive and innocent than what I see in today's average music video (not to mention what's available in the ancient scroll art scene)? 

Can you help a Badger out, dear Readers?

If you have any tins of metal coasters featuring teddy bears or Precious Moments, I'll trade you for my set of "cultural art for contemporary style," you dirty dog.


copyright 2015, Tanya Monier

The Mommy of Invention: Prepping for Philly's Punk Rock Flea Market

According to my partner in craft, Jonelle Greene of FREEload Apparel, we will have tightly limited space for our next craft fair on June 7 in Philadelphia, so I've got to think about what really sells.

And like I said last time, what sold most is the Small Stuff, aka MAGNETS.


A tiny land of treasure, just waiting to be made magnetic

So, this Memorial Day Weekend, while friends go camping or visit the Statue of Liberty with the kids, I'm home with two suddenly coughing and feverish Badgerettes, slicing up anything punk rock and sticking it to glass between soup-making and temperature-taking.

Let's take a quick tour, shall we?

For this project, you will need strong glue, paper, glass, magnets, and enough sitting time to develop your first bedsores.

I have the legendary frontmen and women all ready to go...plus one evil impresario, Kim Fowley (top row, center)

If you haven't seen Michael Shannon play Kim Fowley in The Runaways, put that movie on your list!
If you're wondering about Iggy Pop, I've got several. Weirdly, no one bought them at the street fair.

I'm in love with big magnets and with magnet sets right now.

The Kinks, 2" x 3"



Culture Club, .75" x 2" pieces



The only band that matters: The Clash. Paul Simonon, I love you!

Dead Kennedys. Hello, Jello.

U2. Eh, it'll probably sell.

The Beatles. All from the same photo, but the photographer clearly favored Paul.

Black Sabbath. Not my thing, but if it's yours, it's all yours.

Nirvana.

Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention

BB King, RIP. 2" x 3"

Thank you, Rolling Stone and MOJO magazines for favoring one-inch sized pics of album covers. I happen to have a ton of one-inch sized glass pieces...


Eh, voila!

 I'm ready for the nostalgia lovers, too, with my 1953 Romance Comics magnets.

1. "I don't even know how to be a wife!"
2. "Oh, Don, I have to know...do you really love me?"
both 2" x 3"

Get a room, People!
2" x 3"

1."Oh, I don't want to be afraid! I don't want to be lonely all my life! But...
but I'm so afraid of being hurt again!"
2. "Even when he kissed me...he was thing of her...!"
Been there, Sisters. It gets better.
2" x 3"

"We almost did marry years ago! We were very much in love!
Remember, Lillian? We had it bad!"
Just look at that narcissistic bum, so proud of actually remembering effing up a sweet girl's life!
2" x 3"

Oh, Roy Litchtenstein, I'm afraid we've gone full circle.

 Comic book fans should be satisfied with my new pieces...

Trekkies, classic and New Generation, should also walk away happy...

Look closely, Sex and the City fans--that's Kim Cattrall behind red-suited Spock.

You know which one of these is going to sell first?

This one! Tribbles rule!

I've even chopped up a Cheerios box (special edition at Target) for the just-right-for-magnet-making Star Wars pics.

As you can tell, I'm not taking the term Punk Rock too literally. "Something for Everyone!" I say.



See? I told you Gorgilla would make a great cigar box!



And let's be honest: nothing is more punk rock than stowing away on a cargo boat, crashing a Yankees game (top and bottom panels on the box) and climbing the Empire State Building (inside panels). Gorgilla, I salute you! 

I'm praying that Everyone will buy these, so I won't have to take them home again. Boxes of glass magnets are hella heavy, man....

Copyright 2015, Tanya Monier