You can tell by the lipstick that I made an effort.
Of course right after work, I wasn’t in the mood to make a wardrobe change, but I’m glad I did. Not merely because there were two rooms staged to take pictures, but also, I loved putting lipstick on for the occasion. I also had my favorite accessory: a glass of red wine. The necklace/earring set was a nice touch too.
I actually spent most of my time sitting and talking.
So, my “poses” were a creative extension of what I spend most of the evening doing–minus putting my feet up on the table. I befriended a budding podcaster and her brother. As I answered her questions, trying not to go too far off the rails with tangential detalis, she remarked that I just go for it.
That’s the only way to live.
Waiting for everything to align themselves is about the same as sitting back and watching the world pass you by. I’ve always been a firm believer in doing things a little at a time, over a long period of time. At least I’ll wind up somewhere different than where I began. Hopefully in a better place even if it doesn’t seem like it at the time.
I’m pleasantly surprised at other opportunities that present themselves once I say yes to something else. Like my favorite book, The Alchemist, states, the universe conspires with you when you make an effort to pursue your dreams. The key is to keep pursuing them even when you’re temporarily dealt a bad hand.
As soon as I wished out loud to be part of a real film set, versus the spur-of-the-moment set where I shot my first short film, the universe granted my wish. Originally, I applied for the “Sound Mixer” position not really knowing what all it entailed. The only other open position was DP (Director of Photography). I learned back in undergrad that I didn’t have the “eye” to be DP. Besides, I’d edited several podcast episodes. All I knew was that the filmmakers, who shared director/producer titles, stated they would rent the equipment if the Sound Mixer didn’t have their own equipment–something I learned while on set to not be the usual case.
Fortunately, my mentor guided me in the right direction by providing a few videos and a blog. Until she did that, I truly thought I’d stroll up on set, dressed in all black, wearing hiking boots and a camelback without having done any research. Thank God I killed the camelback idea and brought a water bottle like a normal person.
The first thing I learned and immediately internalized was: early = on time; on time = late; and late = fired. Since my official title for this set was “Sound Shadow,” which, if I hadn’t known any better, I would have assumed was the latest comic book superhero, essentially meant I was an unpaid intern.
At least I didn’t have to pay for a class to gain this experience. As an undergrad, I’d worked on three student film sets. In that blind-leading-the-blind situation, none of them were at any level of professionalism as this movie set was. Regardless of my volunteer status, I still respected our mutual time and made the most of the opportunity.
The second lesson was an explanation of what “collaboration” means on set. As collaborative as both codirectors/coproducers, who I’ll refer to as A and C, announced they’d be on set, I’m happy I didn’t go with my original plan. Instead, I quietly approached the codirectors to ask a question or suggest something. That way, none of the actors overheard, which might have been confusing.
Plus, if one talks when things aren’t rolling, then they should do so quietly. I witnessed first hand how side conversations get out of hand. I found myself pulling a Ms. Roberson and gesturing two people on set to talk quietly. Given the lag time between takes, there was no way we’d all remain silent, but talking normally was too loud.
On the first day, I parked on the edge of the lawn among the other cars with a minute to spare from my call time (ie, late) and texted one of the codirectors/coproducers, C, about my arrival. I entered the house through a side door, nearest the line of carefully coiled cables–another thing the videos had reminded me: the over-under method to wrap most cables that would minimize damage and entanglement. C met me at the door with a big smile on her face and gave me a hug. (At least her eyes communicated “big smile” since her face was actually covered with a mask. Everyone on set had to show a negative COVID test that had been administered within 48 hours).
As I walked in, I met the Boom Operator, T.
For weeks I’d sung the phrase “boom operator” to the tune of Sade’s “Smooth Operator.” Took me mere seconds after our introduction to sing it to T. It had been my ear worm for a while, but I didn’t quite plant it in T.
Moments later, the Sound Mixer, J, arrived with an impressive amount of equipment, 12 years of filmmaking experience and a remarkably positive attitude for someone who wasn’t a morning person. The most golden nuggets of information I learned from him was that sound mixers were expected to own their equipment, and that he sometimes makes more money renting his equipment verses his labor rate. Although I’ve been a lifelong an emerging entrepreneur, my ears perked up when he talked about “rental.” There’s a standard package of sound equipment that filmmakers pay for. On top of that standard package, any additional needed sound equipment will be rented at a daily rate.
One of our producers/directors, A, bravely chose to shoot in and around her home.
I could have made a documentary just from the furniture alone. The piece that spoke to me the most was the Singer sewing machine that had been repurposed into a table. My maternal grandmother had a Singer. When I visited her, I’d sit down in front of the Singer and peddle. Not sewing, mind you, just idly peddling. Bonus: the set dog is in the picture. He was super chill for that many strangers doing strange things around his house.
I notoriously have cold fingers and toes even in warm weather.
For once, masking due to a pandemic worked in my favor because it kept my face warm. We purposely had open doors to keep fresh air flowing–fresh COLD air. Except for when I was eating or using the bathroom, I had gloves on whether I was inside or outside. The combination of post lunch, a comfortable beanbag and comfy coat and KA-BOOM! immediately transported T into a power nap. The headphones were such a nice touch for someone who confidently stated that she wouldn’t fall asleep.
At one point on the first day, T and I talked about me handling the boom when we were outside.
Yet, I didn’t want to be part of the reason why the shooting schedule got further behind. So, even though I never worked the boom for a scene, I miked the actors. Plus J told both T and I that whenever we were operating a boom, we should either fully extend our arms or have them bent and close to our ribcage in order to use our bones rather than our muscles. He summarized in this sound adage: “Muscles wear out; bones don’t.”
On Halloween 2021, I’d requested to read A’s script after she announced that she wanted to make a movie. Just get the dang thing done. Although I didn’t know her, I loved her confidence. Since it was a short film, I offered to read it and made three suggestions.
Fast forward to mid-February 2022, I was part of the crew. The first scene we shot implemented my first suggestion. To my joy, as the two-day shoot unfolded, I witnessed my other ideas implemented as well. That was my preproduction contribution. Being on set was a whole different animal, just seeing those words come to life through the interplay of crew and actors.
In the one screenwriting class I’ve taken, the instructor said that a film gets made three times: once when you write it, then when you shoot it, and finally when you edit it. Throughout the shoot, A kept thinking out loud about how to edit the story altogether. I didn’t envy her that, having to switch back and forth from director and editor.
On the second day of shooting while we were finishing up lunch, I looked at A and asked if filming in her house was everything she thought it be. Her nonverbal reaction, which ran from exasperation to optimistic smile, was something I wish I’d captured on film. Her practical answer saw the value of saving location fees. Another thing I wished I could have captured on audio: the other producer/director, C, commanding “Quiet on set!” Up until then, I’d never experienced her voice hitting the back walls.
The second day of shooting began outside, adding to the challenge.
Our location was near traffic and in the flight path of several planes/jets. I helped solve one challenge that day.
I’d noticed on the first day that a tablet, which was linked to the DP’s camera via an app, had to either be held or lie on some inconvenient surface. My solution? I removed all the painting paraphernalia from my music stand, which has not hardly had sheet music on it since a friend had gifted it to me years ago. Now I can add another nonmusical item to the list of things that have rested on that music stand.
Ever since I was offered the position of “Sound Shadow,” I wanted to illustrate it as a superhero. The moment I can use as inspiration occurred on the second day shooting while we were outside.
Our lead actress lost an earring. At one point, a handful of people were looking for it. Then, just the lead actress and another actress who had been in a scene with her were on their hands and knees still looking for the earring. My attention was on the shoot nearby, but from my peripheral vision, I saw them searching for the lost earring in the same patch of ground as if conducting an archeological dig. I carefully walked over, not wanting to accidentally step on it. Once the lead actress showed me what the earring looked like, I looked at the patch of ground in front of the chair where she’d sat, and squatted to examine the ground closer.
“Don’t hate me, but…” I held up the earring and handed it to the lead actress.
That’s precisely the types of wrongs that The Sound Shadow rights–small scale, huge sentimental value. Like a mysterious superhero, regardless of magnitude, I drove back to my lair once the shoot was over.
Not just another excuse to dress up and attend a real live event. Thanks to the membership showcase, I saw my first short film, There’s Always Something, up on the big screen.
Additionally, this was the first time I’d met some other board members in real life after many monthly Zoom call meetings. We hugged one another like long lost friends.
After about 30 minutes of boozing and schmoozing in the lobby, we were finally ushered into the theatre.
Took everything in me not to take a picture of my film as it played. I didn’t catch anyone else doing such an uncouth thing, so I played it cool and restrained myself. Besides, the organization had a photographer going around and taking pictures throughout the evening. All I have to do now is be patient and wait for those pictures to be uploaded to the website…of course now that I going to be a part of the marketing committee since I’m no longer secretary, that my very well be my job.
Speaking of jobs, as much as I enjoy my newish full-time job, I think the concept of “full-time” should be no longer than six and a half hours a day. After all, we’re already working in shifts. Plus, with a desk job, even a lucrative work from home desk job, embracing more sedentary hours lead to higher blood pressure and diabetes. Not to mention a loss of time to advance creative projects such as filmmaking.
Technically, I made a second short film, yet this one was also not written by me. I’m still playing with the idea of making animated films out of something I’ve written. Something that can be done remotely and with an inexpensive app or two.
For now, I’m sticking to illustrating since the process is so relaxing, and podcasting. Like the two short films I made, I created two podcasts last year during the pandemic. I began with “CBD & Poetry,” thinking that I’d combine two of my interests just to get my podcasting feet wet.
Mission accomplished! For the first season, I interviewed friends who used CBD. I self-taught my way throughout the entire process and planned out dropping one episode a week as if I were programming a series. I even outlined and researched season two: CBD entrepreneurs.
Then, organically, I began interviewing my older relatives, starting with my mother for what eventually became known as “Strange Family Folklore” podcast. As I questioned Mom about how our family acquired land, that began a series of questions that deserved a series of podcast episodes. Unlike my first series, which I’ve put on an indefinite hold, this podcast is planned on the fly. I still edit it to the best of my abilities, but I don’t dare think of it in terms of “seasons,” but rather an on-going documentation of a part of my extended family.
In other words, I should have been that asshole who took a picture of my film on the big screen. I don’t know the next time I’ll get that chance again. Everything else I’m working on isn’t projectable.
My first in-person film fest event took place about 30 minutes outside of Austin proper.
Before heading out to the event, I coached myself not to automatically hug people I knew. After all, this was my third in-person event. I had to show some maturity and restraint. I asked first if someone accepted hugs or not. Progress.
Once I found my fellow board members, we hung that blasted banner. I’d learned my lesson the first time around over a year ago when we’d first used it. Only took one failed attempt this time before we settled for hanging it lower.
From there, we walked back to the hotel, which hosted the film festival.
We mingled and sipped free drinks. Thanks to a plague lesson, the bartender had a QR code for us to tip him. I don’t know if I’ll ever use cash ever again.
Closer to our co-sponsored happy hour, we strolled back over to the restaurant.
Technically, the festival organizer had paid for catered food. Still, I like to do my part. I knew the bartender was up-selling when he dazzled us with a description of a drink that wasn’t even on the menu. His showmanship was divine, so I ordered a “mariposa.” It was as pretty as he said it would be and garnished with edible flowers.
I mingled around the filmmaker crowd.
I view all of our events as membership opportunities. Nonetheless, I was impressed how many had come from out of town. I’d mistakenly thought no one had disposable income to do something like this. That was me projecting.
Although I left at midnight, two hours before the event was scheduled to end, I counted my attendance a success. Least of all, I’d made lemonade out of lemons. Training for my lucrative full-time job was supposed to be the next morning. Due to a computer glitch, my start date had to be pushed back two weeks. That door closed, so this opportunity opened.
As I continue to navigate through the post-COVID jungles of landing lucrative employment, I now have to include working out a schedule that includes in-person social events. What a refreshing change of pace–fitting live events into my work/life/bingewatching balance.
Last year, I volunteered for the CCBFF for the first time because I had never heard of this festival before. This year my very first short film, There’s Always Something, had been selected to participate.
With giddy excitement, I experienced the behind the scenes activities of being selected, starting with participating in a prerecorded panel discussion moderated by one of last year’s winning filmmakers, and five other selected filmmakers. All of us were in the same screening block. Among the six of us, about half of us had not attended film school, but were motivated to document something significant in our lives.
Another wonderful benefit to being selected was my free VIP pass to watch as many films during the 72-hour period as my schedule allowed. I saw back-to-back examples of different approaches to storytelling through film. One short film viewed like a stage play, but was completely accomplished via Zoom.
Most film blocks ended with the filmmakers’ panel discussion. Not all filmmakers had participated, but for the ones who did, they provided the background information on the choices that were made, many were funding based.
On the first evening, the festival provided a virtual happy hour, where participating filmmakers met the founder and CEO, Winston G. Williams. Not only did he welcome us, but he told us that we were forever a part of the CCBFF. Anything we needed from here on out, we shouldn’t hesitate to reach out during and after the festival, we should reach out.
Then, we had the opportunity to talk with other filmmakers in 3 different breakout rooms. My biggest takeaway the next time I participate in a networking happy hour will be to type out a brief paragraph with hyperlinks, so I can copy and paste it into the chat. I composed one on the fly, but that’s something I could have had already prepared had I thought of it.
I copied and pasted the contact information and credentials of the other filmmakers into a Word Doc. At some point, I’m going to organize the information. For real.
In the meantime, I’ve been watching videos from another filmmaker’s YouTube channel. So far, the episodes are reviews of movie trailers and movies. I started with the very first episode and progressed through the collection chronologically. I’m not at the point where I want to have my own YouTube, but I can never say never. Besides, watching videos always give me the opportunity to be productive in between calls as I illustrate.
I trust that while illustrating and watching videos during work, my creative course will flow into my next greatest thing. And at some point, my third book will be completed and perhaps I can fully throw myself into a bigger film project.
A week prior to attending this virtual workshop, I dusted off my one and only script, which I’d edited over a year ago. I’d received a thorough critique with examples of how to improve it, but at the time, I didn’t have the motivation to implement them.
This workshop cured that apathy. With fresh eyes, I reread the suggestions. Nothing impossible with the right attitude. I took my time editing, then submitted the script to be read and discussed by one of the guest lecturers.
Her feedback: Although I had an original idea, she couldn’t follow the storyline because there seemed to be too many elements jumping out at her.
Then, I told her why I’d written Replenish: One of my male friends, who was in his 30s, lamented about how a growing number of young men had watched so much internet porn that they could no longer become aroused in the presence of a live nude woman.
While he wondered what the world was coming to, my first thought was, “Finally, a form of birth control men will actually use! Internet porn birth control.”
She loved that pitch, which was ironic given how two days later, I totally bombed the pitch. The guest lecturer on that day hadn’t read the script. Plus I’d been overconfident in my ability to wing a pitch. Even though I had the outline available to guide me through the major points, without the world building necessary to understand the story, she had to interrupt me to ask questions.
I got lost in the weeds after that. I’d started off well. Although she also agreed that I had an original idea since she’d never heard anyone pitch such an idea, she felt that I’d just grabbed at parts of the story without a clear idea of what I was talking about. Furthermore, since I’d indicated that the narrative was a comedy, she said that I should have described at least two funny moments in the movie.
Another thing I learned, I needed a writing partner. What one participant actually said was that I needed my “Coen brother.”
Since I’d bothered to edit that screenplay after a year, I emailed it to my writing group and another writer for feedback. I got a bite. When I told her the feedback I’d received so far on both the script and the pitch, she offered, “I’ll be your Coen sister!”
SCORE!
Of course, this was the same writer friend who had wanted me to direct several of her scripts, so I see a writing and directing collaboration in our future. Instead of being a one-woman production company, looks as if we’ll be a two-woman powerhouse.
One of the reactions to George Floyd being choked for 8 minutes and 46 seconds by a former police officer kneeling on his neck,
was a national call for submissions to The Breath Project. The organizers encouraged spoken word artists to record an 8 minute and 46 second performance to be used as a tool for education and activism purposes.
Normally, I would’ve jumped at writing and rehearsing a performance piece. Yet, these days, I’m far more interested in being behind the camera. Since my roommate constantly breaks out into original protest songs and political rants, I challenged her to perform for this project.
Once she was ready, I contacted the local participating theatre, Rude Mechs, which volunteered its space, The Crashbox, where we filmed her performance. A Rude Mechs staffer scheduled our shoot, set the lights and, using my smartphone, shot her performance while I directed.
The shoot only took about an hour. She ran through it several times while he shot it from two different camera angles.
Although we filmed on a Wednesday, I didn’t view the clips until Friday around midnight while lying in bed. I saved myself some grief by deleting unusable footage such as when she had the script in hand.
Then, I watched several YouTube videos about editing with iMovie. I normally wait until the weekend to venture into a new technology because I know the first day will be agonizing. This time around, I found a better approach. By watching a slew videos the night before, I woke up excited about diving into iMovie with a game plan–after yoga and lunch.
Of course, confident plans merely tempt the devil. Straight out of the gates, I clicked the wrong thing and imported many pictures from my photo album along with the video clips I wanted. Rookie mistake. No problem.
Once I got the clips I wanted, the easiest approach was to merge two of them, which wasn’t as straight forward as merging two audio clips with GarageBand, but I understood the process. Again, the devil found an opening.
Despite the confirmation that the merged file had been saved, the clip description showed “zero bytes.” Not believing what I read, I still clicked on it. Sure enough, nothing was there.
Back to Google, my favorite IT entity. I learned that zero bytes meant there wasn’t enough room to save a file. I’d greatly underestimated how much space a less than 10-minute clip consumed. So, I saved it to the infamous Cloud. Again, I got the message that the file had been successfully saved, but when I checked iCloud, it showed zero bytes.
At that point, I took a bathroom break. When I returned, the file actually had a much higher number than zero. A-ha! So, there’s a lag between the file being successfully saved and having it show up.
Then, I was on my happy editing way. I worked on a script page a day because after an hour, apathy creeped in. Once I finished the rough cut, I saved the file again without any devilish drama.
Yet, for all the effort, our video was around two minutes short of the required length. Stretching it was out of the question. Nor was I interested in returning to the theatre to record more.
As a matter of fact, with the exception of the time limit, her performance was solid and I liked the editing choices I’d made. All I needed to do was make some fine tune edits, learn how to create end credits, and how to upload to Vimeo.
And not a moment too soon. I’ve got a screenplay to revamp and a film festival to screen. Plus I need to plan out the second season of my podcast. Then there’s the seemingly never-ending illustrations that I need to finish for my third book.
Yet, all’s not lost. Once I uploaded the video to Vimeo, I shared it with several friends and family. Then, I took the extraordinary step of entering it into three film festivals.
Anxious to put my newly acquired special FX makeup skills to the test, I gathered all of my crafting supplies together to transform myself into Ms. Sandman for an upcoming performance at the Austin Writers Roulette.
The first thing I had to do was glue down my eyebrows. In class, I’d used a solid glue stick, but I made due with what I already had.
Since my transformation would eventually involve painting liquid latex over my eyebrows, I had to glue them down so I’d still have eyebrows once I peeled the latex off after the show.
I’d only ever painted with glue to decorate shoes or bind puzzle pieces, but never directly on my face.
I used a blow dryer to speed up the drying process and then headed outside on my balcony.
I set up my usual painting station. I have hardly ever used this music stand to hold music. Instead, it’s held various canvases, and for this endeavor, my recently purchased Goodwill mirror.
I’d planned to remove all the oil from my face a section at a time since I have such oily skin, but I only remembered to do so for my forehead. I honestly don’t know, in retrospect, whether that step was needed.
I went to two costume shops to find a light brown latex, but settled on one that dried clear instead.
I chose an old paintbrush with which to apply the latex on my face.
As my special FX makeup teacher warned, “Once a latex brush, always a latex brush.”
I quickly saw what she meant since there was no way I’d spend the painstaking amount of time to get all that latex out of the brush.
I absolutely enjoyed the cool sensation of painting the latex on my face.
Knowing that latex dried rather quickly, I poured out a portion in a plastic container just so I could keep the bottle closed for most of the time.
The trickiest part of this whole process was applying the sand. I had to lean over the balcony backwards with my eyes closed and pinching my nose with my fingers. Now, I guess technically I didn’t have to lean over the balcony, but I wanted to limit the amount of clean up afterwards. One thing I didn’t count on was how to remove the sand in my underwear.
I couldn’t do such a thorough job on the balcony since that’s technically “in public,” but I also wanted to limit the amount of sand tracked inside my apartment. I did a section at a time to make sure I could target a small area before the latex dried up.The only part that I didn’t like was the sandy chin. So I peeled off the sandy chin and sanded my lips. I liked the texture of it underneath my lipstick.
As soon as I walked into the classroom, I had flashbacks of teaching HS science. On one table lie mostly edible foodstuffs I had at home: Karo syrup, food coloring, cornstarch, and vaseline. Nestled in between the groceries were various makeup products along with toilet paper, cotton balls and paper towels. Welcome to Special Effects Makeup Class!
Our first task was making blood. Using 3/4 of a cup of Karo syrup, I mixed in about a tablespoon of red food coloring, two drops of blue, a drop of green and a little hot water. Since the syrup had a much higher density than the water and food coloring, I stirred it for quite a while. Even after it was well mixed, I simply enjoyed the sensation of stirring the fake blood and continued doing so while the instructor moved on to the next thing: wax.
Back in high school, I remember taking a drama club field trip to a theatre where one guy conducted a “blood and guts” workshop. The one thing that made an impression on me was the pliable mortician’s wax. Of course, I’d asked our instructor about it. She’d never used it, but had used other professional waxes made for theatre makeup.
With a dollop of vaseline and a scoop of cornstarch, I folded the mixture with a plastic knife. This combination was so unbelievably sticky that I made sure mine was well mixed to the consistency of butter cream before touching it.
Even so, once I touched it, I essentially dove in, rolling it out in the palms of my hands. I should’ve eased into that. Had I tested just a little with my fingertips, I would’ve added more cornstarch into the cup. The second best thing to do was to dip the sticky ball of wax into the large bowl of cornstarch. I repeated that step several times until the stickiness disappeared without drying out the wax.
I then combined some foundation in a separate cup to match my complexion before adding it to the wax. As I did so, I wondered what I would have used if I’d been a darker Black person since there weren’t any darker foundations available. I probably would have had an awkward moment of asking how to darken the wax, using both foundation and food coloring.
My first project involved wax and cotton. I glued the cotton first, then the wax surrounding it, smoothing it down with a plastic knife to blend it better with my skin.
When I added the first layer of blood, this FX started to come alive. The instructor gave us words of wisdom, which guided us throughout the entire weekend workshop: blood makes everything better. So, I caked on the blood to hide the edges. At that point, I wished my fake blood was more gelatinous. That didn’t stop me from taking a picture and sending it to my family, however.
The only cosmetologist among us jazzed up her wounded hand with both eyeshadow and blood.
I entered class knowing I wanted to pull off a Ms. Sandman costume for my upcoming spoken word performance at The Austin Writers Roulette. My first attempt was to glue raw sugar to my skin. Since school glue contains water, the sugar dissolved and, together with my body heat, the result was more like a gluey scrub than a sandy-looking costume.
My next project was to cover my eyebrow. This time, I used one of those purple glue sticks and a disposable eyebrow brush. First, I brushed the eyebrow hairs up and applied glue. After allowing it to dry, I brushed the hairs downward and added more glue. Once that dried, I added my premixed foundation. One of the reasons to cover eyebrows is if latex will be applied. Gluing down eyebrows will protect them from being ripped out when removing the latex afterward.
The next project involved staples and coarse aquarium sand. Still figuring out how to render my Ms. Sandman look, I went to a pet store after Saturday’s class. They were out of the sand I wanted, but the woman who helped me happened to have a fine arts degree and recommended coarse aquarium sand since she’d used it for her kids’ zombie costume. Although I felt sad that such a degreed artist had to support herself working at a pet store, at that moment, I appreciated her expertise.
Of course, I drenched the gash with blood, flooding the sand, but it still looked good. The pet store sales associate said that the sand would look like bone fragments and it did once the excess blood oozed out. I could hardly wait to send that picture to my family, who were all at church at that time. I got some instant gratification when I walked to the front desk to show the intern. For a few seconds, he reacted as if I was actually injured, then he remembered which class I was in.
The instructor had also brought in liquid latex for me to try out. Our hypothesis was that the raw sugar wouldn’t dissolve in the latex and may hold better. That worked, but I still liked the coarse sand better, which was held in place with the latex. I also wanted to see if I was allergic to latex; so this patch test served several purposes.
Round two of the leg FX involved body paint, eyeshadow and wax. We made the body paint with shortening, cornstarch, food coloring and water. Unfortunately, we didn’t have actual zippers; so I painted a zipper, which looked more like DNA. Yet the real problem with my raised blood vessel was the fact I used wax. Far too heavy. I tried again this time with painted cotton. At least I could walk around with it.
My last project during the workshop was mermaid scales. I used prefab body paint, toilet paper and eyeshadow. First, I painted the black scale outlines, then I glued down the toilet paper. When I asked the instructor the best way to paint over toilet paper, she demoed the first scale, starting with body paint and dusting with shimmering eyeshadow to make the colors pop. The toilet paper itself added texture to the design.
The real test was on Sunday for the Roulette when I made my Ms. Sandman costume. Here’s the final result:
I’d set up a temporary makeup station on my patio because I wanted to limit the amount of sand in my apartment. I had such an enjoyable time painting that cool-to-the-touch latex on my face. The scary part was having to lean over the balcony backwards to dust my face with sand.
I allowed it to dry while I cleaned up the station before heading back inside to finish my makeup and put on my dress. I had a bra full of sand, but thank goodness none had entered any orifice except the sand on my lips occasionally got into my mouth. Yet that was worth the effort since dabbing lipstick on top of it made for a really interesting effect.
All that wonderful playtime made me about 15 minutes late to my own call time for the show–something which had never happened since I started the show back in 2012. Well, first time for everything! We still started on time and had a fabulous show.
