I don’t think the question is “DO you believe in flying saucers?”
The question should be “Do you WANT to believe in flying saucers?”
It occurred to me that our little green men and women, or whatever gender they may be — these aliens we haven’t yet met — are not all stuck in the same design theme of simple little gray and silver disk. It’s entirely possible, that upon studying our worldly culture, maybe they’ve thought over their options and
… gone steampunk.
Two and 1/2 inch sculpture inside a four-inch glass globe, filled with water and shakeable metallic dust.
When I’m digging through a bin of costume jewelry at a thrift shop or yard sale, I don’t expect to find a tiny bomb among the rubble of rhinestones, silvertone seagulls and tarnished beads. But just like in real life, you never really know what’s around the corner, or lurking under those authentic “made in China” pukka shells. We don’t suspect a “bombshell” before it’s dropped in casual conversation. We don’t expect to go from digging for diamonds to dealing with destruction in a flash.
So this bomb is front and center in a snow globe, touched with a shimmer of dark dust, and surrounded by what may be harmless shapes: towers and cones and flying saucers, planets and satellites. The shape of the bomb is seductive, its pose is alert but inert. For now.
Do you prefer danger to be out of sight and out of mind, or to be hidden in plain view?
I make snowglobes, or snow-less waterglobes, whichever you prefer. Since I’ve never used “snow” I make up my own terms. Someone asked: how did you get into steampunk designed snowglobes?
It’s a chicken and egg, water and globe, spark and fire kind of question. I was making snowglobes and tiny sculptures before I’d ever heard of steampunk and steampunk art. I connected with the shapes, the colors, the materials and the essence of steampunk when I was introduced. (Thank you to John and Max, my big influences there. Without you, I’d lead a very sheltered life.)
A few of my globes are classically “steampunk” if there is such a thing: incorporating the watch parts, the repurposed components, the industrial bases with hardware embellishments. The use of a steampunk icon, such as an airship or zeppelin is a giveaway. Here are two clearly in that category:
Airship One, 2012
But I make other snowglobes that — while they may be appealing to some who like and live steampunk — are probably in a genre yet to be named. The snowglobe “Point of View” with its Escher-like staircase and endless marching figures is one of those. I make what I like, and what amuses me. Sometimes it feels “steampunk” and sometimes it’s pure fantasy, sometimes it’s just an emotion or visual balance that I find wistfully appealing. I’m working on another staircase piece now, but it uses impossibly tiny Mechwarrior-like Metal robots instead of people on the stairs. I have no idea what slot that will fit.
If a rose by any name would smell as sweet, then I can hope my waterglobes will appeal to some people, or not, regardless of the category or the name. I like going back and forth between styles and developing along parallel paths.