Whittoons

My wife will not let me scare the children arriving at our door (or at the end of our candy shoot) on Halloween. The number count of Trick or Treaters is very important to her, and my shenanigans would certainly cut into the return visitors. Young toddlers on their first outing have been known to freak out at seeing our talking skulls.

But in my defense, I was raised to put my full heart and soul into the evening. As a kid I took on heavy subjects, e.g. I was Death Behind The Wheel one year. “That,that,that,that,that boy needs therapy. He was white as a sheet….’ (Avalanches song “Frontier Psychiatrist”)

As a teen in NYC, I would set up the entrance way of our apartment to haunt the hallway and scare the visitors. I hid under a table covered in white fabric and my hand was IT, rising out of a black box to beckon the guests to enter at their peril. Behind me was a white sheet, and the shadow of a figure hanging from a noose. And with each door bell ring, my mother would start up a horrifying cackle at the other end of the hall. I muffled my chortles as I viewed the petrified looks from the young initiates.

With a new home in Seattle, Michele and I attempted to lure kids up our three flights of stairs to the front door. Results were dismal. Then we improved the staging and added full size candy bars. If you build it, they will come. And they came. Increasing in numbers every year, with older sibs coming to our door to introduce their young initiates to the treasures in store at our door.

Michele had the brilliant idea to create stage sets relating to scary stories from literature and history. She designed and assembled parts, and I added a few heads and some miscellaneous features.

Staging the displays has now become a block wide event, with neighbors pitching in, not just to host a scene but add lighting, canopies, and individual artistic flair. And two new sets – the Witch House and the Swamp added to the delights:

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This year was a particular challenge since we set up prior to the BIG BOMB CYCLONE. King Henry VIII’s executioner keeled over from overindulgence in mead, and Mary Queen of Scots was doing loop to loops, looking a little like Moaning Myrtle in Hogwarts Castle. The rats on Miss Havisham’s wedding banquet table went scurrying every which way. Plastic flowers scattered with each gust. And finally after 2.5 inches of rain, the canopy collapsed around her. In spite of all that crap going on around her, Miss Havisham held her own.

Now we have competing organizers down the block who are planning their Halloween event on the day before…AND in the Daylight! That is just sacrilege. Bad enough that the business community ran a candy event during daylight hours in years prior to Covid. How can any costumed trick or treaters spook anyone when the sun is out? There is a pernicious undertow of wokeness eroding the sanctity of the whole celebration. Given all the dread that has seeped into children’s consciousness during Covid, perhaps we should loosen up and let them mock the darkness and evil spirits, and take control of the night.

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I shaped the heads (amazing what one can do with styrofoam heads) and carved the pumpkins:

After a scrumptious Pancake Breakfast with neighbors (I made sourdough and also buckwheat buttermilk pancakes, folding in the whipped egg whites with care.) This was a tradition that was put on hold due to COVID. Then on to the finishing touches for our Halloween presentation – wrapping the candy shoot, stringing lights and cutting up the pumpkins.

Amazingly we had record turnout. Kids loved the Candy Shoot. (Full size bars have the best momentum.) So until next year…have a delightful, frightful time and slay the darkness.

Caravaggio had a way with blood, and severed heads made for glorious gore. His reds just pop…just like the heads. His work got me to thinking about the art we have seen on our trips and how some works are just creepy, though often mesmerizing.

I was inspired by his blood work to try my own depiction of a few severed heads for our Henry VIII Halloween scene:

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Not quite as well positioned in the frame but it has an impact on the unsuspecting. I tried for the Caravaggio single source lighting effect of chiascuro.

Depictions of Christian martyrs can be really gruesome and certainly must have scared the peasants into submission .

Above from left to right: Martyrdom of Saint Eulalia by Bernat Martorell (1442-1445); Martyrdom of Saint Lucuphas by Ayne Bru (1500-1507); Saint Vincent on the Gridiron by Mestre de Castelsrado (1500-1502); Altarpiece of Saint Vincent by Bernat Martorell (1430) @ the National Museum of Art in Barcelona.

Who needed Halloween when congregations viewed horrific images such as these each Sunday?

And in sculpture, one artist worked with just the right red colored marble to depict a flayed satyr who challenged Apollo to a music contest. Nice. I take it he lost. Beware of taking on the Gods.

Animals depicted in art or on display in museums can exude anything but cuteness.

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This would disrupt any parishioner’s concentration on prayers. You are being watched! We do not blink, we miss nothing.

And monkeys get rendered in poor light, looking like Satan’s minions. ( I am biased since I used to study monkeys.) These were lurking at the Musee Gustave Moreau in Paris.

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And we ran into a few stuffed animals that could live in your nightmares for decades:

Monkey Tableau is preserved at the Paris Musee Carnavalet, together with several cats having bad nights:

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Unlike our local feline in full formal black attire that greets all passing through his territory.

Napoleon’s horse Vizir stares you down at the Paris Musee de L’Armee. The dead eyes indicate this is not friendly Mister Ed. ( “A horse is a horse, of course. And no one can talk to a horse of course. That is, of course, unless the horse is the famous Mr. Ed.” Mister Ed TV Show 1961-1965)

Speaking of Satan’s minions, the dome of the Duomo in Florence has a multitude of hideous creatures taking care of the undeserving.

I am sure the phrase, ”Things are looking up!” did not originate from a pew in this church. Hell is raining down on you.

And at the Paris Centre Pompidou, creepiness took a different turn from a more modern perspective by Jeff Koons. Bubbles is looking like it would rather be on the Planet of the Apes.

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Someone should tell the Hulk to pipe down.

I would be remiss if I did not include work by Salvidor Dali. Much of his work is surreal and odd, an and sometimes verges on creepy:

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As a final selection I offer for Halloween creepy art, I give you:

This is only a small section on the right panel of the Portinari Triptych/Altarpiece. This is Portinari’s daughter Margaret looking a bit like Hermione at Hogwarts dealing with monsters. But this sums up the dynamic of most Holloween horror shows: innocence and savagery, purity and profanity, good and evil. It is not looking great for the little one.

Be Careful Out There!

We love all our neighbors, yet living in close proximity (the five cottages on our block were built in the early 20th century on 40 x 100 ft lots) still requires some facsimile of privacy – a sense that the space around is our own. Greenery can only do so much. Our neighbors to the south have been generous in allowing me to plant banana plants just on their side of the property line to enhance our tropical theme side-yard, and plant blue spruce along the property line to camouflage their corrugated metal walls. But gaps remain.

To fill the gaps, Michele suggested we purchase landscape screens from Modinex,…which meant someone (and I guessed it to be me) needed to make a fence structure to support the screens. [Dunn Lumber ordered the panels for us.] To enhance the depth of our narrow side yard, and before I raised the fence, I used one screen as a template and painted the neighbors’ deck wall that reaches our property line. Since it is really in our face, the neighbors did not care what I did to the surface. I was going to add the colors ( Procreate allowed me to visualize a peek-a-boo tropical vista) but decided to go with black on white for high contrast.

Of course, I chose to buy fence lumber during the pandemic when a cedar 4×4 was $80…but daylight was burning and I needed to erect the Great Divide. Once the south border was 60% enclosed by the screening, the glaring open space was the staircase. Our boatbuilder neighbor had donated the 18’ clear lumber for a handrail some 6 years ago when Michele needed the support, and now it was to become a permanent feature connecting elements of our Great Divide. At one end, an East Indian gate that was purchased from a New Orleans company, and shipped for free. The teak door weighed around 300 lbs, so that was a deal. I had to rig up the new hinges, and shave off some wood to make the doors fit, but now we had a firm post to stabilize the handrail, and at the other end was more new screening for the lower yard.

What else was I to do to visually mark our territory? I was going to duplicate a lattice work fence that I had designed for the north side-yard…and I purchased the very dear lumber to make it happen.

But then , wandering through our maze of a basement full of valuable clutter, I found three panels of marine grade mahogany plywood (having stored them some 15 years ago – Pack Rats Rule! ) and changed plans.

I would create a screen of my own!

First the concept drawings:

I opted to go with the screen and modify the art deco look. I had attempted the art deco look for a fence that rotted out though I did recreate a back gate to reflect the earlier design.

But what to create? Which designs might work? I looked to various sources for inspiration:

Right to left: An amazing drawing by local (Seattle) artist Juan Alonso-Rodriguez, Sunflowers in our neighborhood, new solar lights from Swanson’s Nursery and finally the gate I designed (after researching Indonesian woodcarvings) and had crafted in Indonesia by David Smith.

My travels have taken me around the world, so designs from multiple countries have impressed me and inspired creative visualization. SE Asia and Indonesia offered up a wide variety of wood carvings that stuck with me.

Next step: sketching late into the night while listening to KEXP:

Once the panels were up, I thought I could use a hand saw to cut out the patterns…bad idea. With a blinding glimpse of the obvious, I deduced that at the rate I was sawing, the project would take me into 2022. And at the rate my frustration was building up, I would probably put my fist through the thin panel. So I searched for a tool and voila! The Dremel saved me much sweat and tears.

So much to my neighbors annoyance, I began drawing the patterns on the panels and cutting…and cutting. The sound of the Dremel at work can terrify the unsuspecting since the noise resembles a high-powered dentist drill. Pain avoidance instincts were on high alert. I had to put in ear plugs to persevere.

My Milwaukee power drill helped pop out the various circle patterns, using a variety of bits. Once perforated to my satisfaction, it was time to sand (carefully). Then I had my canvas for staining (Cabot Oil Stain and Sealer) , to match the rest of the screen fencing…I hoped – though using different types of wood I could never make a perfect match. The rush was on to complete a few coats before the rains of October set in.

DONE! And just beat Le Deluge.

Not all is still around Lake Quinault. The Quinault Tribe controls the Lake, and the National Park borders the lake edge on the north. Some property owners, disgruntled with the measures the tribe enacted to protect the lake and salmon habitat, tried through legal wrangles to wrest control of the lake from the tribe and have Washington State take control. They failed. But the signs of protest remain fading along the road as we drove in to our retreat.

We were returning to a cabin we had not visited for over fifteeen years. Nothing had changed except there was evidence of maintenance work. That is a good thing since the cabin basically sits on a precipitous rock above the lake. (Onion Rock to be more exact. This rock is unique since seeds washed down from the upper Quinault River lodge in its crevices, and develop as an unusual botanical niche.)

Ownership of the resort changed hands in 2020. The previous owners had devoted forty years of time and money into upkeep, and persuaded Derek to buy the place. Derek is an Amazonian living in Seabrook on the coast, commuting to this idyllic spot. Lucky guy.

Once ensconced, is there any reason to leave. The light plays across the lake and hills in fascinating patterns and I can just sit on the porch, or the daybed, mesmerized by reflection.

Yet still water is very seductive. Put me in a rowboat, canoe or shell and I have found my bliss. There is something exquisite in the sound of a paddle or oar smoothly slipping through the water. No motion is wasted. Quietly you can skim across the surface leaving gentle ripples behind. Water birds hardly notice your progress. Only the loons cry maniacally (especially if a bald eagle is circling nearby.)

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The headwaters of the Quinault River run through the Enchanted Valley. We only ventured 2.5 miles up that trail to the Pony Bridge, but others, walking sticks in hand, were striding up to spend nights in the wilderness area. A controversy has arisen over the Enchanted Valley Chalet, now on the National Register of Historic Places (2007). Originally built (13 miles up from the Graves Creek trailhead) in the the 1931 prior to the area designation as a National Park, it was used by hikers and those arriving on horseback. In need of repair, it was renovated in 1983-1984 and the building was moved back 75 feet from the eroding East Fork Quinault channel in 2014. Apparently it sits now just 8 feet from the bank. (according to the Willis Wall blog 6/2021). Devotees of the wilderness ethic want it to be left to deteriorate, and mulch the land. Those with history in mind, feel it should be preserved. These opposing sides also are in disagreement over the shelters still remaining along a few of the trails.

Having help to build an Adirondack shelter in Merck Forest (back when I was hanging out with the Student Conservation Corps), I have a great deal of respect for those who constructed shelters in remote spots as solid protection from the elements for hikers. Cutting down the timber, peeling the bark with a Timber Tuff, cutting notches with shark axes and and raising the logs, then roofing and shingling – this is labor intensive. Having hiked in some awful conditions, a shelter is so welcome when you are desperate to get out of a storm. But the Wilderness Watch sued the NP over plans to reconstruct some shelters, stating this would violate the “primeval character” of wild landscapes. Three historic preservation groups joined the litigation supporting the park. (The Kitsap Sun June 2016). The United States District Court for the Western District dismissed the lawsuit against the National Park Service. (National Trust for Historic Preservation, 12/6/16). Some footprints of people remain historic, even in the ”wild”. And besides, wilderness in this day is an artificial construct, useful, but artificial. Growler jets from Whidbey Island fly over the park (averaging 12 flights a day) with noise levels exceeding 100 decibels (National Parks Conservation Association Press release , 9/18/20). So wildness is relative from moment to moment…unfortunately.

And speaking of restoration of historic sites in the park, the old Kestner Homestead (dating from 1891) sits near the Ranger Station along the North Shore road and is undergoing some work to shore up the old beams and roof lines.

Yet warning signs state that you enter at your own risk due to shaky posts and rat shit…beware the plague! We avoided the rat droppings and sampled one of the remaining apples on the ancient orchard. From there the Maple Glade walk offers a gorgeous stroll underneath enormous maple trees clothed from roots to limbs in lush green epiphytes. The variety of green hues in this verdant grove is astounding. Another plus is that the trail is smooth, no boulder hopping, nor roots to trip you up. You can gaze up and up as you walk without fear of falling foolishly into the ferns. A web might snare you, but these are gossamer threads that offer no resistance.

A very different short (1.5) mile hike heads north from the North Shore road (just a mile from the Ranger Station) up to Irely Lake. This trail has many roots to cross before settling down along Irely Creek. Frogs may resent your intrusion, though they rarely are startled. Yet the end point is a quiet opening onto the small lake with remants of old trees standing like the broken masts of sunken ships.

A magical array of “Tinkerbells” greeted us along the shore…dragonflies of various colors hovered and circled around us. Tiny frogs climbed on a small floating branch to sun themselves, paying us little attention.

Driving along the South Shore Road, we pulled over to check out the World’s Largest Sitka Spruce (this is after all the Valley of the Rain Forest Giants) just adjacent to the Lake Quinault Resort…and then wandered over to the resort store/office. It is a hoot. All sorts of tourist attractions from Lake vista post-cards to Smoky The Bear stuffed toys complete with shovels. Much more fun than the Lake Quinault Lodge shop where the staff person looked like she was doing time. Admittedly the Lodge has the classic lobby with large stone fireplace…but who can enjoy it with Covid. Most guests were seated outdoors, scattered across the lawn eating take-out dinner from the lodge restaurant.

Closer to the cabins, we paddled over to a decent beach at the Quinault River outlet to the lake. I had spotted a black bear loping along the sand bar earlier, so we moved with caution up stream. Sighting little in the way of paw prints, we took our time without any hyperventilation.

At the end of every hike, we could settle back into the cabin and just absorb the peace and quiet. Birds tended to come to Onion Rock and scavenge including a woodpecker. Three otters slipped through the water near our shore, diving down…leaving a trace of bubbles and then re-emerging and tilting their heads back to chomp down on fish dinner. A bundle of logs is the daily allotment per cabin, and a fire just about makes the setting perfect. Maybe too cozy. Put another log on the fire…and open the window. PLEASE.

It was very hard to leave…and I mean that in many ways including the hauling of all our gear up the precipitous staircase. Maybe I will trim down the essentials next time.