Renaissance Renaissance: Week 1

To start, a little exposition: For the 2016 Renaissance Festival season, I played a solo street character. A French Marquess named Jaqueline. It was the worst season of my entire fest attendance. Worse than even that day when I was 12 and we had to leave early because it was raining. Worse than a few years ago when I salved my lonely heart with entirely too much whiskey. Last year I learned that I am unable to interact with patrons alone.

I did achieve what I had set out to do by taking a year away from the commedia troupe: try to develop a character from scratch and independently entertain on street. I tried. I failed. Although, I did learn a lot. Mostly that I never want to do that again. But other things, too, perhaps described in a future post.

Beginning rehearsals for the 2017 season was exciting back in with i Arroganti commedia troupe. Co-directing with my best friend, we planned a new scripted show, bought new masks, and I started to get to know the other members she had hired last year. We had our cart-stage fixed up. Unfortunately, my costume wasn't ready for Opening Day, par for the course. I dug enough old pieces out to ensure I caused no scandal, and off we went!

Saturday was gorgeous. The weather was perfectly temperate after the morning rainclouds passed over. I laughed more than I have since I can remember. I performed with my boyfriend as team "Ginger Minge" for Vilification Tennis. This is his first year on the cast, and I was so proud to stand on the stage with him because he is funny as *hell*. I ate my first spicy pickle of the year. I hugged lots of friends. We went fishing for mermaids, using swedish fish gummies for bait. We helped Antonia the Painter graffiti the King's Arbor. We sang "I'm on a Castle" on top of the front gate. At the end of the day, I was exhausted. Which is exactly the goal. It was amazing.

The first Saturday of the season is always ushered in that evening by the Morris Men's procession. They perform the Abbots Bromley Horn dance; a ritualistic, solemn dance of fertility in a path around the whole site. In white garb--but no bells--six men parade in a single line over their wandering path. Then walks members dressed to represent traditional archetypes: Maid Marian, the Hobby Horse, the Fool, the Archer, and the Youth. Their musician trails behind them with his concertina, playing a haunting, loping melody accented by the soft clicking of antlers, sporadic knocking of arrow on bow, and the light chime of the Youth's triangle.

I walked into the night and joined the silent clump of audience who trail behind the procession. Observing the dance is a ritual, as well. For me, mourning the dead has also become tradition of watching the Morris. Earlier this year, a friend died in a random, reckless car accident. His life was cut so very short, so very suddenly. He was a former member of my troupe, and a current member of the Morris Men. He was a spotter for the stilt-walkers. He was a Peace Corps alumni. He was a developing star of the local burlesque community. He was a beautiful, joyful, generous, sweetheart who should never have left this world so violently. And I miss him every day. So I followed the Morris Men and wept. I followed their dim shapes in the night, heard the antlers, heard the song, and poured my love out from my eyes onto the ground. The festival grounds have soaked up so many of my tears. After they left the site, I drank my whiskey alone and went to bed.

I had a hard time scraping up enough energy for Sunday. It seems like everyone did, though, because attendance was light. The humidity was oppressive. We only performed one show, where the audience gradually drifted away until Act 3 was presented to nothing but our congregated benches. It was still a good day, though. My best friend and I ate bowls full of tiny pancakes. Another member of my troupe helped me steal a roll of wedding bunting that was left unattended. We unrolled it and ran around with a streamer of white flying behind us. Then we rolled it back up and tucked it away nicely because we are polite fools. I performed Vilification again with my boyfriend, and I didn't even write crib notes on my hand to help me remember my insults. We took the Prince to see the final show for the year by Sak Theatre, a legendary troupe celebrating its 40th year. We had a picnic by the front gate. I hugged more friends and pet their dogs. We *finally* got ice cream cones. We got wet, but stayed at the front gate anyway. We packed up the cart and went home.

It was a sweet relief to fall back into the troupe routine this year. I know where I belong! That was the first weekend in a few years where I felt like I had come home.

Look Thou to the Heavens!

Festival Friday. It's always a strange day; skeleton cast, closed shops, school children roam free like uniformed, little squealing beasts. After our educational presentation about the masks of commedia dell'arte dispensed to exactly six people, I had arranged to change into street clothes and photograph on site.

In tandem, I tailed one of our most oft-harassed characters; who does not have the advantages of speaking or facial expressions. Last year my troupe had to chase off a pack of wild things playing "let's-kick-the-person-with-no-peripheral-vision". This year, I told my cast member I would be watching and guarding, no argument. As the character traveled around the village, I would have the chance to capture interesting shots on the way. So I did, and my colleague survived unscathed (although I think someone snuck in an ass-grab as they passed).

Following is a compilation of the roof decorations of various structures around the MN Renaissance Festival. I liked using my telescope lens to view them up close, as they go unnoticed by the dusty crowds below them. Image and marketing copyrights belong to MNRF.

Weather vane atop the Renaissance Museum and pub.

Unicorn impaled above a jewelry shop and pub.

Sassy fairy tempts you to buy glittery hair-thingies.

Jousting knight weather vane crowns a rooftop of a glass booth and pub.

On the same booth and pub, a dragon. Perhaps hiding from the knight.

Upper level of a crafter booth and pub.

Gable with myriad-colored shingles. Above the Greek food booth and pub.

Forbidden upper level of the Pavilion. And pub.

This knot inspired the whole series. Texture, symmetry, and utility all played parts.
A hanging sign for the Ice Cream booth and pub.

I bet this gable is painted *especially* for people to notice. I love nerds.

A tiny dragon issues forth above a leather shop and pub.

This crest of indeterminable provenance. Posted above a gypsy scarf shop and pub.

One of the many peaks of Bad Manor and pub.

A flower bed near the door--does a tiny gnome live above this crafter booth and pub?

Gargoyle on a pedestal. 

Upper levels of Bakery Stage and knife-throwing booth and pub. 

A rather odd species of booby has nested in the eaves. 

Interior, exterior, and water wheel at the Paper-Making establishment and pub.

Hand-laid mosaic on the upper level of a glass booth and pub.

The darkened upper level of a garden ornament shop and pub.

An inspiring spire atop a children's costume shop and pub.

Slightly washed-out view of the cupola above the wooden sword booth.
...there's no pub, because who would sell mead in a place filled with weapons?!
That's dumb.

Tour Around Haus Manna

In trying to run down my camera's battery so I could fully charge it for a day of shooting,
I photographed things around my house that I thought were neat:

Morrigan: the lazy-ass tortie.

My cherished Nosferatu necklace, the figure embedded in smoky resin. 

Black Velvet Jesus in the Garden. Painted by mom, frame made by dad. Paint-by-numbers.
I grew up with this painting always around. Love the visual & tactile aspects. I can pet Jesus!
I kinda hope it becomes legend, and my mom gets a cult following of vintage velvet painting snobs.

Miniature replica of Tutankhamen's sarcophagus. There's actually a tiny, gauze-wrapped mummy inside!

Rooster ewer. Really not much more to say.

Artist's dummy belonging to Other Manna. I mean to sew a model dress over it. Someday.

This image basically sums up the existence of Spaz; he's just a huge butthole.

Lights stapled to our porch. Hey, this is so whimsicle, I could sell it on Etsy now.

Spooky tornado dome belonging to the Other Manna. Tiny paper bats swirl all about!

A sprout photo from this spring. Back when I was enamored with bringing life from the ground. Now, eff that shit.

Not shown: dirty dishes in the sink, floors gritty with cat litter, and thread-balls from my workspace. I'll cover that in the next post (said no Manna, ever).

Rambling Ren Fest Recollections

Alliteration is clever.

Top Ten List of Bestest Things That Happened Last Weekend

10. Dregs in the Dark show--now with 45% more liquor! The band plays an all-request after-hours show for cast & crew. Maggie & Mike Heck soak the audience with booze-laced jello and pudding shots.

9. Learned a new dirty joke from ladies at the Mead Social. These women knew how to rock a mead social. Ask me about "the Southern ladies". 

8. A friend lost a sweater with great sentimental value 2 weeks ago. This weekend it returned. 

7. Babybel cheese red wax wrappers make good clown noses. Taught this to a 4-year old wizard in what was probably my first one-on-one interaction with a child on street.

6. Ate a cinnamon roll with progressively more and more frosting getting on my face. Wound up with massive sugar high. I scared the Welshman.

5. Roma & Captain Clifton give me money for a second cinnamon roll. Chaos ensues.

4. For the first time, I didn't feel like crawling into a hole and dying after bombing a Vil Ten insult. I bomb quite often, but this is the first time I bounced and recovered.

3. Free-play with commedia masks. The Lord High Sheriff dueled Capitano for Isabella's honor, Arlecchino and Columbina fought, Isabella threw a tantrum. These things may or may not be related.

2. Lots of comforting, sincere hugs from many cherished friends. When I make a public statement about needing hugs, I really need hugs.

And the number one spot for Bestest Things That Happened Last Weekend goes to...

1. Organized by the Original Manna, my friends raised enough money to replace my leather mug stolen the weekend before last. More than enough, because I got to pick out a cork-top lid, too. People had been passing money to Manna right under my nose, and I never picked up on it because I can't fathom being treated as special by so many friends. Total astonishment.

I give very heartfelt thanks to everyone who donated money, everyone who stopped to give me a hug, and everyone who looked into my face to sincerely ask how I was doing. I felt True Love.

Coffee is My Co-Pilot

I have skipped weekly postings about the awesome things going on at the MN Renaissance Festival, and now it's 4th weekend! What was I thinking?

Oh, right. I was thinking about the costuming projects I have to finish, my own costume to finish, and like 74 other things about performing and preparing for Fest every Friday. Because of Labor Day ("don't mourn, organize!"), this was only a 4-day week, too. Shit just got real.
...well, as real as Fest things go, anyway.

Lists are fun! Here is a list of things I have learned about costuming this summer:

-Always buy enough fabric for the project on the first fabric run. If you're not using a pattern, as I am wont to do, buy twice as much.

-Making clothes for children is fast and adorable. I complain that I can't find female-sewing-bloggers who aren't making clothes and crafts for their spawn--now I understand why they choose to phone it in by just making baby clothes (that's right, I said it).

-Cats eat string. Then your roommate has to pull threads out of Spaz's butt, which is icky. He's a stanky cat. So clean that shit up.

-Overlock machines are a gift from the gods.

-Overlock machines are possessed by the devil.

-Electronica/hip-hop/breakbeat/alt-rock/hardcore (specifically Mindless Self Indulgence) music is the very best for inspiring momentum to buckle down and sew all day.

-Finding the energy. the confidence, and the courage to continue sewing even though you're depressed and stressed and sad and you really need to curl up on the couch and stare at the wall for 9 hours...that is fucking difficult.

That's exactly what I had to do this week, though. Deadlines cannot wait for me to get my shit together. People cannot attend the Renaissance Festival naked because I couldn't make their clothes. They would be shivering.

If you know of any female-sewing-blogger who isn't making clothes and crafts for children--please post the link! I would love to find more creative people's work to read!

Ren Fest 2014- Opening Weekend

A recap of each weekend posted here for posterity, for reflection, and for to share the joy.


Opening Weekend: Highland Games (resulting in lots of kilts and bagpipes, both of which I greatly enjoy)

-Saturday was full of greeting Village characters that I haven't seen in the better part of a year. It was satisfying and comfortable to walk around the site once again.

-Performed with Sef as "The Homewreckers" in the first round of Vilification Tennis. We came out strong, and lost our match with dignity. I could feel the difference a year of improv and comedy made in my stage presence and connecting with the audience.

-Our afternoon gig, participating in the Mead Social as the peanut gallery of jokesters and storytellers ended up being great fun. Charles Sutter, Winemaker, gave a naughty limerick where he cuts himself off instead of saying the final rhyming word; "clitoris".  At the back of the crowd, Merry chimes in with, "...her arras?" "What?" sputters Charles. "It's a curtain." Merry explains, as our troupe explodes in laughter, further confusing everyone. When we perform Hamlet, Polonius is stabbed through the "arras" (a rich tapestry, in truth), which the troupe mistakes for part of human anatomy during the show.

-After hours, I sat with friends inside a delicious, air-conditioned trailer to trade stories of our first day. Even managed to have a few good conversations amidst the cacophony of the Tavern-turned-dance-club. Teamed up with friends to assault the Porter with back scratches, temple rubbing, back and hand massages. Because he deserves it, after putting out First Day fires for 12 hours.

-I discovered how much fun it is to share my ice cream cone with friends. As each took their taste, I smooshed the cone onto their face for good measure. One Puppet Troupe girl licked the extra off the other Puppet Troupe girl's nose.

-Sunday's first show ended being a speed-through of "Goldilocks and the 2 Little Pigs". It took longer than expected, because the troupe and audience couldn't stop laughing at the ridiculous situations.

-We had an extra performer for the next fairy tale, so we performed, "Hansel & Gretel & Steve". Steve ate all the breadcrumbs Hansel dropped, so the other children let the witch roast him first as a diversion before shoving her in the oven.

-A shop worker called me in off the street to ask for a taste of my ice cream cone. He might have been just flirting, but I stepped into the shop and smooshed his share onto his face. His buddies crowded in the shop erupted with glee! "You earned that," I quipped, and smiled sweetly before taking my leave.