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I'm Not Sheepish At All

Saturday, September 26, 2009

I'm Not Sheepish At All

That's right--few people who know me know that I am a capable butcher. I mean, I know my way around with a carving knife, possessing skills far beyond simple trout-fishing and gutting, having raised and slaughtered both chickens and pigs while growing up. Above all, I am not afraid of "parts:" as in animal parts most Americans won't eat or even know where to buy if they wanted to eat them. You find yourself in need of parts? Pigs snouts, chicken feet, sheep heads? Call me. Not a voodoo must-have shopping list but great food sources, and I know where to buy them! Yes, top-rate parts.Mark--brainstorming aloud as he is wont to do--"animal jawbone" was murmured as a possible prop, and I cheerfully volunteered to bring in the necessary soon-to-be witch wand after clarifying: "goat," "sheep," "cow," or other? I left before "other" became a feasible option.
Sheep heads, sheep heads roly-poly sheep heads--I just had to get a sheep's head to see me through the week.
Off to North Park Produce on El Cajon Blvd. It was a hot day, and I passed on the succulent rognons blanc (lamb's testicles) in the case and opted for one sheep head and a pound of rognon d'agneau (kidney) for our dinner: Rognons à la crème. Now it just seems more appetizing in français, non?Feeling rather French, son Ted and I opted to stop by St. Tropez in Hillcrest for lunch and brought "Agnes" and her kidneys in their meat-paper-wrapped glory to sit in the air-conditioned chair next to us as we ate no doubt a cousin or other relative. Mmmh!Home again and Simmertime! Tongue(delicacy) eyes(not my fav) and buccal meat--mmh! Soon my kitchen was fragrant with Agnes cooking away. Unfazed, my children filtered in and out of the kitchen, lifting the pot lid and saying, "When is dinner?" one right after the other. They have seen worse--and eaten it with Béarnaise.A few hours later, sinew scrapped and loosened teeth collected, I e-mailed Mark and Mel--"Mission Accomplished--jawbone ready for Tuesday."Just to be on the safe side, I buried a little part of Agnes along with a little prayer and thanks for serving us so well, resurrected so to say as a theatre prop.

Lisa Burgess, costumer--and animal lover--so please
no nasty e-mails!

Costume challenge

OK, so there is something to be said about the creative mind--the one that is compelled to make things, take on the challenge of representation of what previously existed only as text or thought. This desire that propels one to stay up until 2AM finishing things that are only to be seen briefly-perhaps even overlooked--while on stage.

New to costuming, I have to say "thanks" to Mark and Mel for keeping me busy. I thought it would be "fun" to costume. I thought I might even get to see nice-looking, naked men(Gay or straight, no matter), maybe even cop a feel on occasion(sorry--it's true). While this may be so, fun and feel-ups abound, I have to say the N-Man Fetlocks have nearly done me in: FFFFu'kin' fetlocks. Never a subject of a Bowie song--surprisingly enough--"design fetlocks" should be next-year's Project Runway ultimate challenge: the one that sends designers screaming from the Runway and ready to hold Tim Gunn hostage backstage.

Not the cloven-hoof part--the solution for those came to me while resting and the image of my son Wilem getting an arm cast, after a deranged woman in a blue truck ran him over 3 years ago, occurred to me: "plasterwire and mesh--that is what I will do!" Not even the color, since I found the best faux fur as soon as I went shopping--there it was and it would work under black-light. A Satyr-sign of sorts, a goat-footed good omen, perhaps? Damn my optimism and sense of invicibility!

What has hit me hard and fast is the difficult reality of designing what is essentially footed-fur pants, to be stripped off in 30 secs or less, and easily climbed into while looking less-than comical--read: spooky or disturbing. We are talking FUR pants here--I mean fetish-world niche aside--what is the demand for these? There is no frame of reference except for a few horse-happy freaks who have posted "me as a fawn" Satyr-type You Tube clips. They don't really feature the design drawbacks, and definitely not any reference to the SMELL after a brief wearing--now I know that "ass" is indeed a scent-adjective and , yes, "it" IS the smell that precedes, announces the presence of, and it is not a welcoming wafting fragrance.

So, I have to hand it to James since he handed it to me, OK. We became "well-acquianted" so to speak while I was literally in his pants. He WILL suffer for his art, but I can attest that he does indeed posses the balls needed to pull fur-pants off, and on, and off and on, and even look quite creepy for the few seconds he appears in fetlocks on stage. I plan on catching the final shows--by then the animal smell will be most authentic and hopefuly the full-effect(faux fur and scent) will be frightening. Maybe this production of "The Witchhouse" will be the beginning of a "pandemic" rush for fetlock inspired fetish-wear? We'll see . . .

Challenges

I am really optimistic that things will be scary enough and can hardly wait for opening night.