I work every weekend at an old "head shop" called Vagabond Imports here in Stevens Point and, for several years,(with a four year gap in between when I moved to Milwaukee in 2001 and then moved back to Point -- another long story -- last fall) I've been responsible for designing some fun window and wall displays.  What's a "head shop?" you may wonder...  It's a place where hippies would once go to buy incense, groovy imported clothing, and bongos.  There's not as many head shops in existence as there were in the '60s and '70s, and for some reason this one has remained open for several decades.  It's probably due to the influx of university students, many of them CNR (College of Natural Resources) majors, and the great amount of old school hippies who live out in the boonies busy with their herb gardens and supporting the Green Party.  Below you will find little buttons that will take you on a magical mystery tour of displays I created and items that I sell in the store.  And, if you're in town, come in for a visit.  You will find things here that will make your room or your body look, feel, and stink pretty!

Strange Things Happenin' Mama...

I took a break from my watercolors this week to experiment with a disposable digital camera.  It snowed on the days I had planned to go out into the woods and I was too lazy to walk over to St. Peter's Cemetary, so I stayed inside the store I work at (my job is like my second home) and took a few more photos of myself.  I'll give ya a break down on each image so you know what's going on and maybe you'll wonder even more about myself than I do.  What am I trying to convey with these images?  I believe myself to constantly re-think my own image -- trying to say something more than just what words or my face alone can express...

First, I have to go back to October 31, 1998.  I had deep vampire red hair and wore a lot more make-up than I do now.  I think I just got tired of fussing so much over how I looked at work.  In this picture I am "tea-bagged" by a fish mobile from Bali.  In the background are rows of jewelery.  The scene at my hippie head store job hasn't changed much and I haven't changed all that much either. 

The freaky images above are not crime lab photos of myself.  I took a picture of my reflection in a tin mirror from Mexico.  I am holding a peacock feather over my forehead and my eyes are closed to avoid the glare of the flash.  I then scanned in the photo and played with my image in photoshop.  If I had more money and a small army of models, I would make more photos like this one and age them.  I'm a big fan of antique photography and I have a somewhat small collection of tintypes.  I'd like to do a modern retrospective-type photo project where I take people from this century and make them seem like they are all alive and well in, say, 1900 or whatever.

Is that 18th century lady really looking back at you or is she part of a poster?  From an odd angle I tried to make this photo look like I went back in time to snap a picture of someone who possibly lived in, say, 1789...

But if you look at this next picture, you'll see that it is, indeed, just one of those turn-of-the-last-century's poster girls for Job cigarette papers.  Still, I have always found this painting to be photo realistic.  It hangs in the backroom of my boss's office and I've tried many times to talk him into letting me buy it from him, but he refuses.  It's a rare print.

Help!  I'm drowning in a sea of shells!  Actually, it's just my hand playing with a mobile made out of shells.  When you bump into the shells, they make beautiful music.  With the flash of a camera, the light catches the shells and makes everything around them seem dark. 

Just one of the many masks from Bali hanging around the store.  This mask is made out of bone and, hanging next to a red silk robe, it seems to be the mask that represents "comedy."  Now all is missing is the mask to represent "tragedy."  Maybe it's good that tragedy is missing.  Considering my last blog entry, this should show that I'm never down for long.  Yet I must admit that when I hit a low, I really hit a low.  Like taking a big dive -- I gotta come back up for air some time... and laugh.

~V