Original envelope front |
Envelope back |
Art, textiles, objects and oddities made by catherine mcever
Original envelope front |
Envelope back |
A very Wiccan holiday |
Coming up with a spectacular advent calendar every year is challenging, but when your recipients enter their teens the challenge becomes formidable. This year's version of the advent calendar features Wicca, and reflects an abiding fondness for all things magic, pagan, and nature-based. The perfect antidote to the doomsday mood that is daily becoming more prevalent on the planet and having a palpable affect on teenage angst.
The fun starts with a forest-green hoodie that lends a kind of - "Pssst...hey lady, want to see some magic?" - air to the proceedings. Upon arrival the hoodie is mysteriously closed, building anticipation towards the grand opening on December 1.
Psssst...hey lady |
Close-up of outer label |
Magic! |
Book front |
Back of book |
Spell casting containers: bottles and sachets |
This is part two of an ongoing series of attempts to explore what happens to the mind when you explore unfiltered graphic representation of abstract thoughts. This round was conducted at an 8-day retreat of intense dialogue at the Krishnamurti Foundation in Ojai, California. Serendipitously, I was housed in the Annie Besant room. Besant was one of the founders of the Theosophical Society and a pioneer in the whimsical world of thought forms, and this virtual proximity with Besant across time seemed too ripe with possibilities to pass up.
Internal dialogue |
Toilet paper tube as spiritual artifact |
The riddle solved |
Cover |
Pages 2&3 (click to enlarge) |
Pages 3&4 |
Pages 5&6 |
Pages 7&8 |
Pages 9&10 |
Back cover |
First let me say this isn't about the cost of a sock. This is about fighting back against the throw-away, out-of-control consumerism that has brought us to the brink of the apocalypse. It is also about combatting the emotional embarrassment of finding yourself at someone's house or, worse yet, a spiritual retreat in Ojai, where it becomes clear that the exception is that everyone is expected to remove their shoes. And it is about cute little bugs. It is a win-win scenario. Part of the Summer of Invention has been about tuning in to quotidian, annoying little problems that generally go unnoticed and figuring out how to fix them.
A graphic take on problem identification: sock toe holes |
The solution: a darning egg kit |
Colors that pop make for happy toe bugs |
The bottle babies |
I have felt an affinity for the late Queen Elizabeth ever since I read years ago that she would wander the cold and drafty hallways of Balmoral Castle clutching a hot water bottle to her tummy. Even though I live in Oakland, California, which has what Rand McNally has declared the best climate in the world, the foggy, rainy winters can chill you to the bone if you live in a 1920s apartment building with one iffy radiator. I have been cuddling hot water bottles during the winter months for years, but they weren't doing much for my sense of aesthetics, leaving me feeling like a frumpy old queen.
The bottles need a cover to be both safe (protecting you from a scalding hot bottle), removable, and washable. The covers they arrived in from Amazon do the job, but they are neutrally ho-hum at best, and quickly become tired and worn looking after multiple washings.
The bottles |
Original covers |
The end result |
Click to enlarge |
Official royal portrait |
Close-up |
Welcome to the Summer of Invention, a creative interlude I have peremptorily declared, which kicked off about two weeks ago and is proceeding apace. The rules are simple: 1) Identify a problem, 2) invent a creative solution—the wackier the better.
Below we have a prime example, focusing on the problem of remembering to take daily calcium pills. Every strategy I have tried in the past, including placing the pill bottle front and center on the table where I always sit, has utterly failed. I also have a deep aversion to tainting my aesthetic landscape with ugly plastic commercial products and labeling. The solution? Using inspiration drawn from the Days of the Dead celebrations which incorporate a playful use of bones, I came up with two strategies.
Step 1: Pick a plastic bottle |
Step 2: Rough shape the dog using paper towels and tape |
Step 3: Start building layers of papier-mâché |
Voila! A pill bottle. |
Note the bottle-cap butt feature |
Original, ugly, bargain-size bottle |
Front label on recycled, smaller bottle |
Back label |
Lid |