I think I'll be back there soon, taking part in more courses. I'm looking forward to them.
During my one course we were asked to choose a fairy story and then decorate a shoe box or a suitcase in a way that would show the relationship between that story and our lives. I'm not particularly good at fairy stories so ended up choosing The Wizard of Oz. I love the movie and have a cheap paperback set of all the Oz books by L. Frank Baum. It seemed a good choice and I'd made a half serious comment about fighting through all kinds of hell in search of something that we already had in the first place.
I panic about practical art projects. I've been known to have meltdowns over very simple artistic endeavours. But, without any guidance at all, I decorated a box. And then, because I was self-conscious about the box and thought it a bit rubbish, I decided I'd write about how the Wizard of Oz relates to my life. This has grown into a set of fourteen blog posts, including this one.
You can find the contents page for the main series here.
Some of it is quite light but I'll warn you that it gets quite dark in places and there's a lot of sadness mixed in with the joy.
Yes, I made a box. While it won't be exhibited at the Tate Gallery I'm quite proud to have done something practical and creative without meltdowns. Although there was that week I just stared at the box before wandering off and writing a poem about something else. And there were sessions I found I couldn't get to at all. At the time of writing the sessions aren't over but I'm having to miss all that remain due to other commitments - we're putting on a play!
Here are a few pictures of the box. All of our boxes will be exhibited. Somewhere. At some point. I don't know where. There will be dancing too.
The lid of the box: "The autistic, transgender, God obsessed, wizard of Oz. Come, follow the yellow brick road with me."
This mouse was in a tree together with a colourful teething ring. For some reason my brain fixated on these things and I had to get them. The branches were sharp and there were thorns and my arms got pretty cut by the experience. But I retrieved those items. Since then I've thrown the ring away and now I've left the mouse in a box. Although what a mouse has to do with the story is anyone's guess.
Yes. God obsessed even though I no longer believe. This is the image of divine mercy. I used to have copies of this image. Everywhere. Some of what Jesus said I can still go along with.
The Refugees welcome badge is a replacement. I had one before a big march for refugees here in the pouring rain before spending days sorting donations until the point at which my head couldn't do more. I lost that badge in London and replaced it last year at the Greenbelt festival. I asked people if they had a spare badge and they handed me a pack of ten.
This box is inside the main box. "Open Me. We welcome you to autistic Munchkin Land."
"The journey is held inside, knowing its safety."
Inside that box are lots of pieces of card, each containing the web address of the blog posts. A sheet inside the box lid explains what the cards are. Perhaps nobody will take a card. Perhaps nobody will read the posts.
The rosary. In front of the lion.
Did I hide myself, fearfully, under the mask of my religion?
The box. It's not spectacular. But it's mine!
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