Will be taking a few favorite snow globes to show the “steamconstituents.”
All designs and photographs are copyright (c) Camryn Forrest Designs, 2013.
There once was a man too big for his bridges … Yes, yes, I know that’s not how the story goes, but it’s how this one is told.
When I first heard this phrase — or thought I’d mis-heard it, actually — I stopped the teller and said, “don’t you mean, too big for his britches?”
And the storyteller looked at me sadly as one does with an ignorant guest and said firmly “bridges.”
I persisted, of course. “It’s britches, like pants, you know? He was too big for his pants. He got so big, he couldn’t get his britches on right.”
A sigh and a sad little smile were directed toward me with barely contained exasperation, “No, it’s bridges. When you are too big for your bridges, you start thinking yourself superior to everybody and you lose your bridges: your connections. You have no friends, no family, no relationships all because you are too big for your bridges. You can’t get from here to there without bridges, and bridges are all the people who can help you when there’s a challenge ahead.”
Well, I’m here to tell you, that started to make sense. And just because I heard a phrase one way up until this conversation, and then heard it another way for the first time, I suppose it doesn’t automatically make me right.
But it did make an interesting little waterball sculpture.
“Too Big for His Bridges” one of a kind snow globe/waterglobe, (c) Camryn Forrest Designs, 2013
Guilty.
Sometimes I just sit around waiting for someone to tell me what to do. Waiting for a deadline to approach, or for the next big thing to hover over me like Godzilla before I’m forced to jump into action.
Worse, I see people who appear to be waiting their whole lives for a sign. Going through the motions, exerting the least effort possible to get by.
I don’t want to just “get by.” This is our opportunity to seize the moment, relish the experience, taste the chocolate, breathe deeply and live.
Hey, you out there waiting for instructions: it’s time to SHAKE THINGS UP! Make something happen. Don’t be a bystander in your own story. Take a chance, make a change.
Or as my brother said once, “Life. Be there.“
“Waiting for Instructions”, one of a kind snow globe, mixed media with metal, repurposed items, chain and bead work. (c) 2013 Camryn Forrest Designs, Denver, Colorado
In so many endeavors, humans try to emulate other creatures and end up standing out … well, like an opposable thumb. We want to soar in the skies so we create vibrant colored hot air balloons. It’s a pretty cool experience, but hardly mimics a bird.
It occurs to me that there are a few activities we humans attempt, visiting someone else’s environment, that DO begin to emulate the creatures who live there. When I started working on a scuba diver water globe I had a hard time making the diver clearly stand out from the landscape, the underwater plants, the coppery coral, the tentacles nearby. And without any change on my part the problem became the solution: it was exactly what I had experienced underwater, the feeling of moving like a fish, of the wetsuit color blending in like a dolphin, experiencing how the movement of the water shaped the way I responded.
I decided I liked the idea that the scuba diver was nearly indistinguishable from the other parts of the seascape.
We know that many swimming creatures, both mammals and fish, survive by camouflage. They either look like something else, or they try to blend in to the surroundings.
So this snow globe, errrrr, water globe, (sorry, just canNOT say “snow” to an underwater scene — when shaken, the softest whisper of sand swirls in the water), became a brain teaser of sorts. If I didn’t tell you what it depicted, would you guess? Would you see the “one of these things” that doesn’t quite belong?
Here’s the finished liquid-filled globe, and the last photo … you’ll see the diver was there all along, not hiding, just happily blending in with all the scenery.
And here’s the diver, highlighted from the colors of the sea.

Now and then we get take a fresh look at how to make snow globes —
Last year it was the elaborate snow globe for the Sacramento Steampunk Society; this go around, it’s a double-decker snow globe with an open base, entitled “It’s Complicated.”
The tricky part of a double, open snow globe base isn’t making it, it is designing the open part so it can be touched. Because we have to believe that all snow globe are made to be picked up, touched and shaken. Unlike the interiors in snow globes, which are cradled by the surrounding liquid, that the open part of a double-decker snow globe will be touchable. Sure, folks are fairly careful with “art” but it’s out there in the elements and needs to be secure enough to withstand a poke, a prod, and a wiggle when the entire piece is upended and shaken.
“It’s Complicated” includes a black and silver glass heart with a few mechanical parts above, bathed in silver and black metallic glitter, with a push-me, pull-me sculpture on chain and springs below. Sometimes the love we show is “oh so pretty!” and the complicated feelings are below the surface. But in this case, you can see it all laid bare.
“It’s Complicated” will be shown at the Cherry Creek Arts Festival, July 5-6-7 in Denver, Colorado. Stop by our booth and give it a shake.
It was a simple idea at the time. I wanted, I planned, to make a snow globe sculpture called “Invisible Carousel.” I sketched it out to perfection. Frollicking giraffes and unicorns, a pig and a buffalo, all parading in a whimsical circle.
A sweet little idea, with a variety of small metal animals, each perched atop an unseen clear support, at different heights, so when viewed inside the snow globe, it would appear to be a carousel with no mechanical support. The invisible carousel. Charming. Dripping with charm.
I collected the animals I needed and began to work.
Until the Rhino.
Oh, the Rhino! Barely the size of my thumbnail, he exuded a fierce personality, completely unsuited for the sweet endless ride of a carousel. “I want adventure!” he proclaimed. “I have battles yet to fight, and honor to defend.” He refused to sit politely on a carousel post, protesting that he was too old to be ridden by a child, no matter how imaginary. He seemed to cock his rhino horn in my direction, looking as threatening as his 19 or so millimeters would allow.
How does one deny the will of the angry Rhino? Using the tiniest tools, I crafted a tiny harness of leather straps and chains, and fitted the Rhino carefully. Next, I outfitted a grand airship for him, battle-worn, but complete with bazookas and other weaponry. I hung ammo belts and tiny knife sheaths off his harness, and put torpedoes at his disposal on each side.
Go forth and fight your battles, Warrior Rhino. The carousel can ride another day.
The Warrior Rhino flies at dawn.
All images and designs are copyright (c) 2013 Camryn Forrest Designs, Denver, Colorado USA.
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