I liked my basement space, and its darkness, and isolation, comforted by the cuddling of these creatures in my hand, working them over carefully with dental tools, magnification lenses clipped to my glasses for a better look at the corners of their mouths, the folds over their eyes. Best of all were weekends, when I could work late into the night, soothed by the radio: Music from the Hearts of Space, Jazz After Hours. The creatures came alive then, I believe, with their faces modelled from my own exaggerated expressions, copied from their reflection in a little mirror, constantly consulted. I was trippin'!
I was lured from my hiding place in the basement darkness by Ann, who chuckled at my figures and faces, and encouraged me to bring them up into the light, where other people could see and enjoy them, and by my brother, who provided a modest "grubstake" to get some of the faces molded. Thus encouraged, and full of anticipation, I leapt into the wide world, clutching my creations.
The world, apparently, was not ready for me, nor was I ready for what the world had in store: for instance, I tracked down a company in Marion, that did resin-figurine molding; the owner liked my Internuts so much that he had the whole set molded, painted, and sent to New York City with one of his salesmen. I was on cloud nine! Fame, glory, were near at hand! Not so. The salesman could arouse no interest from buyers. He tried marketing them on the internet, and got scammed. Some months later, I visited the company and found the whole place shuttered and bankrupt. About three years later, a fellow from CA, with "sales in his blood" and ripe to launch a groovy new website, The Geeque Boutique, begged to market my Internuts, and contracted with me to begin a new series, Computer Geeks. I was on cloud ten! This time, fame, glory, and money were virtually there for the taking in the exciting new world of cyberspace: a year later, broke and dispirited, he folded the website, and I drew a deep sigh and settled back down on hard ground again.
Well, in the soul-stirring words of Ol' Blue Eyes, "Riding high in April/shot down in May . . . dum de dum dum . . . You gotta pick yourself up/ And get back in the ra-a-ce/That's Life!" And so I have, adding that "nothing learned is ever wasted," because while those miniatures never "hit the bigtime," the hundreds of hours spent crafting them has paid off, in spades, because now, when I am asked to submit a design for a commission work, I make a maquette, using all the tools and tricks and techniques I mastered in the basement darkness, so long ago.
