I love animations, as a sketch artist it feels like a great direction. So with a script in hand I begin a new animation. Longer than the Wren, which was a project for someone and you won’t see the final product until the client releases it.
Wow let me begin with…this year I felt yes I must go to Africa. I have been to South East Asia and all of these beautiful places with its residual African resemblances and yet my feet hadn’t touch the soils of Africa. I remember in Oakland there was an African centered woman who made clothes in the Lower Bottoms, I used to phone her and ride my bike to her home with lentils I intended to cook for her. She had a special place in the hearts of young black women who would visit her. She reminded me of my aunts, you went over to her house, she had a rule everybody cleans up. I found myself doing the dishes, sweeping, and helping sort out fabric. My favorite part was if we all spent the night like a mother hen she read us stories. Can you imagine us early twenty something year olds lying everywhere heads resting on their palms looking up to a woman reading passages from books she wouldn’t let you borrow nor bend.
She used to say you want to go to Africa, all you got to do is confirm it and you will go. She was right, this year I decided two things were for certain I was going to see Hornby again and I was going to go to Africa.
Went to Hornby, thats another story. Now, I’m in Africa.
this was the sketch for She Blue, Horse head female body
A friend mentioned I shouldn’t run to the store for what I think is missing or needed but find it in the house, look in the garage. problem solve. So here is She Blue’s head/face using cardboard, my exacto knife, egg carton (the lips and nose, and wire I had from a creative reuse place. The tape was also in the garage 🙂
Now there is the chest and the biceps or upper arms still using the wire, egg carton, cardboard, and tape. Now I have an idea of how tall She Blue will be and its much taller than I thought. Certainly something like 2 and a half to over 3 feet tall. I am loving it.
When conceptualizing a toy one of the first things I thought of was it’s materials. What will the toy be formed from. After visits to craft stores, looking on the ground, and speaking with a few friends we came up with plushy, edible, and non hazardous. What came to be was an armature crafted from wire and cardboard, to be exact an egg carton taken apart by my handy dandy exacto knife after days of contemplation.
It takes courage to craft anything. I truly felt the relief come to me as the face took shape and the clay layers were added on.This toy is made from modeling clay, beads, the materials of its armature mentioned above, and to finish there is the adding of candle wax over the clay to harden it to a degree and the addition of acrylic paint for color. This toy is the first and probably, if not staying with me alone, will be granted to someone who can truly appreciate the energy it takes to develop something as experimentally profound as a series of black Satyrs for those of us who love storytelling and would like to see images that look like us in the relationship to the fantastical. Below are more sketches and the process to craft my first toy. The hair is my own from my comb, there is so much of it that goes flying when picking my fro.
The foolish covet his tools. The munchkins walk by his side. The dreamers admire his agility. He is not the jack but the master of tools.
Through out history and to this very day he has been a hoarder of names. The first step to being a master of tools is to be able to change tools at will with as much simplicity as a breath. You must be formless to be a master of tools. That chaotic organization, formlessness, is at heart what it means to be the master of tools.
He wears a suit of the finest of fabrics. He weaves it himself I’ve heard. It smells of the finest dark chocolate soil. His suit is a mirror for the spirits to use. His suit is a book of information.
I remember a girl named Jessica who unwittingly happened upon a tool of the Tools Master. It was in one of the places you least expect it to be. Laying at first in a section of her memories she hadn’t touched yet, there it was safe for a time. It was the ability to rally the spirits, I believe it was. It was the incantations, words, it was the very library for this type of art. The tools master is so well organized he utilized several other information holders such as gems and these hidden rooms in the memories of anything to store his libraries. But for Jessica it was different. Something in that selection touched her and awoke in her. It is not quite clear if the master of tools knew that he had done this. But I have heard that if you are able to access the tools he places in those hidden rooms in your psyche, you can keep the bounty. He made himself a pact that he will only take what you will not miss of his. I have faith in this. I want to believe this with all my heart.
I have been searching all of the hidden rooms in my psyche for a glimpse of a possible stored library. Although some of these opened doors have unleashed more than I thought would be there. For this I am grateful to him and his pact. I am grateful for the ways my body has begun to self procreate, creating multiple fluid bodies to join me on my search into the wonderland of my very mind. I appreciate that with this task I have become whole. Even though I can call forth the thunder, even though I can play wildly in the forests with the nesting spirits, even though I can dream and open my eyes without opening my eyes. I am sitting here in this park with my deck of cards secretly divining if I will find a library of his and become a magus of tools. Because for all of this to happen to me with just the intent to reach out for one library I can only imagine what it would be like to actually have one. And on the winds I spit these words that if I do find a library of his I will steward it like it was gold. I will care for it as if it was myself. I will nurture it as if it was a child. I will the will to play with this sacred selection of knowledge knowing that I cannot mention to you the rest of what I would be after. Hunters have their secrets and we are at war.
I haven’t seen Jessica since but I can feel something brewing. I think she has something to do with it. It’s like a warm hearty soup for the souls. I also heard she changed her name. Joined a team. The rest is a mystery. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to tell you what happened to her. I happened upon how to make myself a suit of the finest fabric. I wove it myself.
Introduction to the Tools Master by Sabrina Davidson Copyright 2012