8/5/2005 - 87 Days...

...and what do I have to show for it?

Half an alien FCG, needing arms; most of his chamber, needing assembly. Pieces that need to be combined to create the heart of dracula. Half a pair of wolfman hands. A split-open skull of Frankenstein, awaiting his life support chamber to be finished. A few pickled punks, some ugly taxidermy, a tent, my banner art... even with these, my sideshow of monsters is still a glimmer in my eye as time ticks down quickly, despite a start date of last November filled with reams of scribbled ideas and copious study and construction. In spite of my snarky claim that this was being done "while you were all watching TV", a stolen bit of boasting from another obsessive creator I read about in Roadside America, who builds houses out of walnut shells or something, I forget...

It's come down to time. It always does. But, it also comes down to commitments made by me, from me, so I've no one to blame but the Dr. and his fiendish plans... desires that scream to be fulfilled to form a sort of legacy should his rotten immune system succumb to the growing number of attacks that plague it, and find the Dr. pushing up blood-red daisies far sooner than his age should allow.

Time has split me into two very different directions, both emanating from the same place, my creative muse. My two creative directions have the same deadline, Oct. 30. Both involve blood and suffering, but are on opposite ends of the spectrum. Call it the battle of the Sacred and the Profane.

See, while the haunt project has been my biggest push, I'm also working on an extended restoration project that requires as much time and care as the construction of my monstrous concepts. This one involves the careful cleaning, repair, and complete repainting of a series of bas-relief, sculpted wall-hangings from my wife's church, depicting the fourteen stages of Christ's death.

No, no, no, the Dr. is not a sainted, holy man by any stretch... his heart is big but black as pitch. But, these things have stared at him from the walls every Saturday night for 13 years, and his desire to do something about their poorly rendered colors and peeling spots culminated in finally pulling one from the wall, restoring it, and presenting it to the church council as a legacy project, pro bono, to which he was lauded and kissed and granted prayers, despite his actual status as a purveyor of haunted nastiness.

It should be noted that, when the Dr. decided to take on this effort, he was unaware of the deadline imposed for it, since it had taken him years to decide to embark on this grand maneuver. Who would've guessed it was the church's 50th anniversary, culminating in a grand mass on October 30, with bishops from all over the world flocking to the tiny community, presumably to partake of hospitalities and marvel at the restorative efforts of a burly, demon-possessed man, who would be exhibiting monsters and creatures of an unholy nature the following day?

Sacred, meet profane. Mingle.