I have a clear memory of dreaming, as a child, of being lost in a town with towering German homes, those Tudor stucco-and-brown-beam buildings with puffy brown shingle roofs. Except, these shingle roofs had faces, and we speaking down to me. The dream was a combination of anxiety and wonder, and that image has never left me. No doubt it was planted in my head from Sid and Marty Kroft, and their puppetry psychedelia (constants of the Saturday morning routine). Also part inspiration, probably, was having grown up near Chicago, which had a significant German immigrant population - the architecture no doubt reflecting that.
These pictures don't really do the image justice, but the texture and feel of the strip do work toward it, I believe. The final frame is from Rattenberg, DE, where we saw the Seida Pass troupe's Hexentanz Krampus festival in early December, 2017, if I remember. At the bottom of that frame, you can see the drummers in their dried hay-bale outfits, wearing elaborately carved wooden masks with horns reaching toward the sky. Visiting that festival seems somehow a circular motion, spiritually, in line with my childhood German dream.
I have a clear memory of dreaming, as a child, of being lost in a town with towering German homes, those Tudor stucco-and-brown-beam buildings with puffy brown shingle roofs. Except, these shingle roofs had faces, and we speaking down to me. The dream was a combination of anxiety and wonder, and that image has never left me. No doubt it was planted in my head from Sid and Marty Kroft, and their puppetry psychedelia (constants of the Saturday morning routine). Also part inspiration, probably, was having grown up near Chicago, which had a significant German immigrant population - the architecture no doubt reflecting that.
ReplyDeleteThese pictures don't really do the image justice, but the texture and feel of the strip do work toward it, I believe. The final frame is from Rattenberg, DE, where we saw the Seida Pass troupe's Hexentanz Krampus festival in early December, 2017, if I remember. At the bottom of that frame, you can see the drummers in their dried hay-bale outfits, wearing elaborately carved wooden masks with horns reaching toward the sky. Visiting that festival seems somehow a circular motion, spiritually, in line with my childhood German dream.