The Fair Maid

Temporary Bindings

2009-02-27T08:37:00.003-05:00

The printed copy of the Fair Maid is hot. I am so glad I finally got the courage to cut the book and make the scans happen.
Hope to print a couple of copies today. I am going to Herkimer tomorrow to look for a suitable binder to hold this all together when it gets sent out.
I was going to attempt to perfect bind it but I decided that for a publisher, all I need to do is wrap the entire thing up and send it out.
And then wait.

Crop and Rotate

2009-02-26T09:25:00.002-05:00

The cropping and rotating is going well. I am almost done already, and I only spent and hour or so on this.
My next step is to create a couple of dummy books. I need to be able to have a couple of copies. I have made a decision regarding the future of the book and the publishing of it. Since I want to shoot for the moon, I am going to send a couple to 2 different low brow publishers. It would be nice to have someone cover the marketing and publishing costs.
I investigated Blurb. Blurb wants $50.00 for a hardcover, or $35.00 for a soft cover for a book of this size. That's a decent price for a book. I am not thinking I can charge much more than this and make much money. I can see $60.00 as a stretch for someone to spend...and I have to knock off the shipping costs out of those numbers still. Not sure I want to go this route. It might work to make a sample book to send to the publisher...but I already have the ability to do this on the laser copier where I work. So for now, this book will be published here and sent away for others to evaluate.
I need to update my resumé and provide whatever paperwork these publishers require.
For now, I am concentrating on producing the dummy. I want to try doing a perfect binding. We have padding glue already at work. I want to do a simple stack on the glue and see if it will hold. Then it's just a matter of attaching a cover. I will have a completed book project to send away. Hopefully, this impresses.

Scanning completion

2009-02-25T14:07:00.004-05:00

I finished scanning the book the other night. It was a brain dead procedure. I didn't really need to pay attention at all just check the cropping and let 'er rip.
Now comes the first part of tediousness. The cropping and rotating stage. Each scan needs to be checked over and processed. InDesign will be my page layout program. I used to be a Quark fan, but when this has to go to pdf, InDesign will be handier.
The cropping should take me a week or so. I still have some time to make that decision regarding the publishing...

Introduction - Synopsis

2009-02-21T15:30:00.007-05:00

I had just finished up working on my first completed collage journal, Dreamiverse. In this journal, I created an altered book, and did my art randomly on top of another publication. After I did the artwork, I printed it myself on the color copier at work and created my first animated CD to accompany it. This was so truly empowering and I loved the idea of having my artwork printed. I wanted to do it again.
Upon examination of the finished book, the only thing that bothered me was the fact that it was "just art" and not a story. Instead of loose artworks, I dreamed about creating an epic collage story, something with characters and a plot. I decided this project would probably need some words, since a long story only in pictures might be difficult to follow. I really didn't want to type the story. That would be too easy. I wanted things to be a bit more random and Dada, like the rest of my work. The words would also have to be collaged. And The Fair Maid was born.
I had an old ledger style composition notebook containing 150 pages. It was vintage, but pristine, and I was holding onto it for just the right project. It had ruled pages, but that didn't bother me much. This was the perfect book for the job.
At the time, I was living in the Adirondack Park. I had just moved there, after living in the Southern Tier for most of my adult life. I was psyched to be living near bogs, forests, and mountains. The surroundings moved me and entered into the realm of my artwork. I took pictures of the land around me all the time. I had developed this little dream of being an Adirondack artist. If someone thought about my or my artwork, I wanted them to associate it with northern Adirondack forests. I wanted to be remembered for the way I depicted this landscape that I love so much. The scenery around me would be a major component of the story and also the pictures that compose The Fair Maid.
Bogs were especially fascinating for me since the Adirondacks are full of them. On any given hike into the wilderness in this region, you will no doubt come across some acid boggy wet land. It's inevitable. Nothing feels more bizarre then sinking bare feet into the sponge-like moss in a fresh Adirondack bog. The plants that grew in the bog also intrigued me and I had all sorts of mental fantasies about possible events that could occur there. Pitcher plants, sundews, peat moss...these things inspire me and fascinate me. They would be great fodder for the book.
In my yard and surrounding me in every direction were the Adirondack forests. Dark, cool, absolutely still...they lured me in and I felt communion there. The plentiful balsams lend their peculiar smell to these woods, and everywhere there is a strong odor of sweet piney forest. I love this smell so much. I would bottle it up and keep it with me wherever I go if I could. In fact, I do possess 2 different little balsam bags full of balsam needles. Every now and then I crush one, close my eyes, and put it up to my face to smell it and let the smell take me to the woods.
These Adirondack plants and forests around me I took into my heart. I hiked often and painted or took pictures every time I could. I swam in creeks and hidden ponds or lakes. I got stuck in icky mud and muck, got eaten alive by black flies and mosquitoes, and I found long lost bridges and camps...Life was an exploration. This got through to my very soul. So when it came time to begin a story, something that I knew I would have to really delve into and spend a lot of working with, I knew that the Adirondacks is where I would begin.

Synposis

The story begins in Spring, with a fair maid that lived in a bog and filled pitcher plants. She was alone at first. Toiling in the bog, tending to the needs of the plants that grow there, that was her destiny. And then one night she had a dream, a sparkling dream of a man she would meet and come to love. The dream helps her come to the realization that she is quite lonely. The bog seems empty. Many moments are spent in despair as she realizes how much she yearns for someone to share her life with.
One summer day, she comes upon this man. He lives in the balsam wood, in a mushroom house. They do indeed fall in love and every day seems like a snapshot moment. The man decides to ask her to join him and live with him in the balsam wood.
This is a pivotal moment for the Fair Maid. Although she has wanted a partner for some time, and she is convinced that this man is everything she has ever wanted in a partner, she also remembers her duties at the bog and the pitcher plants that must be filled. Without her to fill them, they would certainly die. She declines his offer sadly, and returns to the bog alone. By now, it is fall and winter will soon come.
The Wizard of the North Wind comes upon her and asks her what is wrong. When he discovers her plight he has pity on the lovers, and he casts a spell. The bog shall grow next to the balsams.
Sadness and loneliness envelope The Fair Maid as she hibernates through winter, not knowing that a spell was cast will change her future.
Spring emerges once again, and the Fair Maid awakes to find that the bog is magically now right next to the balsam wood. She can tend to the pitcher plants and also be with her true love. They are together once more, and live in Adirondack bog bliss for the rest of their years.
And that is why a bog can be found at the edge of a balsam wood.

New Plans

2009-02-21T15:21:00.002-05:00

I was talking with Chris the other day about the book itself and I believe I have some writing ahead of me. We were discussing the undercurrents in the book, and I was telling him about why I chose the plot of the story and all that. He encouraged me to write some of this stuff in a forward for the book. I do like that idea. I was working on it already in my head. The format is fuzzy for me, I may do some kind of Q & A, because there are some things about the book that would merit an explanation.

The scanning is already 2/3 done. I took out a sig this morning and was excited to see that there isn't much left. I am getting to the "new" segment, and I am liking that, since this is less familiar. The rest of the book has been fondled by me over and over and over hundreds of times throughout the past 5 years. I can recall each page and smile over the little things that tweaked me while i worked on it. The last pages, they were only finished up last spring.
This book has rested long enough. It's time for it's journey to a publisher.

The next segment, after the scanning, that's going to be rather tedious. I will have to go and crop and rotate all the scans and get them cleaned up and perhaps color correct should they need it.

THEN it's anyone's guess still at this point. I think the next step is to make a nice pdf out of it, multi page...and then print it 2 sided all nice on the copier. Then I can create a super fine copy of it....one that will be worthy of sending out.
I could also format it for Blurb and self pub. Not sure about that yet. For now, the scanning has me busy enough.

scanning progress

2009-02-15T06:25:00.003-05:00

Finally came to a rhythm when scanning!This book has weird sigs and to take it apart without a complete fumble fuck...I have to cut a few pages apart now and then. Of course, the first cut hurt the most. At this point I am immune.
I am halfway thru. It is difficult to concentrate on each and every single scan! I end up with this kind of half ass little skit, where I put it on, and preview, turn around, put something away in the studio, turn back around and scan. SWITCH! With a hoop skirt and some music, it'd feel like a square dance!
I have done some research on where to print, and Blurb seems to have the best review for color work.
Have NOT decided whether to split this into a 2 or 3 part book yet, tho. Not sure about what to do on that. I guess what's the dif? If you buy one book for 60 bucks or the alternative of 2 books for the same?
I don't know if anyone would spend this kind of change on MY book. I know a self help book is one thing. This is not self help. It's fairy tale. fiction.

It's all so secret. I don't tell many people about these things, and this blog is oh so quiet. Seems so cool to have such a big secret. Somehow, I need to go from only ME knowing it, to EVERYONE knowing.

The process has begun

2009-02-12T11:09:00.002-05:00

The process has begun. Finally.
Last night, after many nights of nagging inside my head to take care of this...I finally started scanning the book.
Honestly, I don't know why now. It has been complete for over a year, and in the works for more than 5 years.
Why last nite?
I had that all of a sudden burst in my head a few days ago that it was time. I can't explain it, but it grew within me until I couldn't ignore the request. So last night, I put on the geeky black plastic reading glasses, after I wiped the lenses off real good. I grabbed a nice sharp razor blade and settled under nice bright lighting. This was book surgery. This was serious. This was a moment where the blade was going to cut into one of my little book children... eeek!
I peeled the IFC away from the first page....that was when I told myself, you can still stop and not do this.
I persevered.
I grabbed the book and tilted it sideways to figure out where the signature started and ended. The razor blade slid in nice and smooth, and the first slash of the binding began.
I was able to remove one large first signature. I didn''t understand the weird amount of pages...I ended up with a sig of 38 instead of 32...go figure.
The signature separated from the book easily enough, and I left the rest of it all intact. These pages will get their turn being removed from their binding womb, but now right now.

I was woefully careful with the scanning. Cleaned off the glass, made sure each scan was free and clear and not cut off anywhere. It took probably 40 minutes to scan all 38 pages. I even re-did a few to be sure that they were perfect.

It's an ending. For the book. As it was it shall never be again. Some pages were stuck with glue and I had to cut them. This means, never again shall they be sewn in. I don't know how to handle this, because in the beginning, when I decided to deconstruct the book, I told myself that when I was done with scanning, I would re-construct it! I hesitate to use tape to hold things together. I am not sure this book will go back to it's bound form. This is something I will have to address as soon as the scanning is complete.

It's a beginning. For the book. As it was, it shall not be, as it is now new again. It was sitting on my shelf, alone, forlorn and untouched. Unread. Not fondled nor understood. Blind deaf and dumb. Now, it has a chance to breathe, reach out and touch others. It's only proper for a book to have friends.

I am not certain where I go from here. I don't have a decision whether or not I should publish myself, publish online, in a blog, or send to a publisher. All I am certain of is that a little voice told me inside it was time. Time to break the bonds that bind.

40

2007-09-21T12:34:00.001-05:00

the air was threaded with a murmurous refrain of minstrel winds

I adore the phrase "minstrel winds"!!!

39

2007-09-21T12:33:00.000-05:00

1. In the sky the bright stars glittered,

38

2007-09-21T12:32:00.000-05:00

The Fair Maid Who,
was grieved to the core of my heart
After a time she grew tired,
"I've been thinking a great deal about him lately.
"Good night," she said
a bit anxiously.

37

2007-09-13T14:21:00.000-05:00

air, water, trees and other natural things
spirits in rocks
trees in shrubs decomposing
secret ponds
breeze, so softly blowing
I thought I was
LOST

I am bugged now, because there is a show called LOST! When I did this page, there was no lost!

36

2007-09-13T14:19:00.000-05:00

Her obsession is somewhat puzzling. What would drive a woman
with considerable beauty and substantial resources to suffer the
toil and potentially serious injuries of
a labor of love
a sinister looking black pool
motionless
dying and living birds
clots of dead grass

The swamplike vegetation on this page is really insane, and not very characteristic of the Adirondacks. I had attempted to make this an Adirondack Fairy Tale, in pride of this beautiful park that surrounds me...But sometimes you have to stretch the truth in order to fulfill the story line. I think these trees are from a southern swamp, not a northern forest.

35

2007-09-12T14:49:00.001-05:00

the
swamp
grew black and rotten
she put on galoshes!
it became colder and colder.

This spread is hysterical!!! If all spreads could come out like this, I would be so damned lucky!

34

2007-09-12T14:47:00.000-05:00

She makes the most of every moment.
Beruffled in translucent tones
this lusty garland of russet leaves, and several black
enameled leaves. In the back set a bow of watered
ribbon and lace.
that mount up to perfection.

I am weary of this spread. The Fair Maid shouldn't be nekked till later on...BUT I love the weird waxy horn pipes. I may have to keep it in.

33

2007-09-12T14:44:00.000-05:00

She had some respite,

rather remote
feeling lonely
in the black moss bog

The dripping background was in an art magazine. I don't remember which one, Art Forum or something like that. This was a few years ago I did this page—— PRE-graffiti craze. I really like the dripping paint thing. I don't care if it is in vogue or what the deal is. There is a time and a place for dripping tho, and apparently when you are remote and lonely in your black moss bog, that is a good time.

32

2007-09-12T14:43:00.001-05:00

In the beginning
Round and round she whirled—in space—
in the blackness—in confusion. Slower and
slower she turned- a mass of warring sensations
pounding down upon her.
Heaven turned is to hell.
waiting for
the great oneness.

Very Important words! I like the spiritual relapse on this page.Heaven is turned to hell it seems, for most people waiting for God. I won't go into my personal religious preferences here, but I am really happy these words are in my book.

31

2007-09-11T07:17:00.002-05:00

Sometimes it's the little thorns
that prick hardest
I shall re-find you in Eternity
journey into the wilderness in order to reach
"You my fellow fine,

The claws instead of hands is a reference to the "prick" in the text.

30

2007-09-11T07:17:00.001-05:00

Love, I am lonely, and so far from thee!
In the long shady branches
Of the dark pine tree

29

2007-09-11T07:16:00.000-05:00

Your ears ring, your heart sick, breathless on the bank of a brook.

28

2007-09-11T07:14:00.000-05:00

The beauty and grace of a
young deer frolicking in
the summer meadow...
the delight of a baby
raccoon being startled
by a tiny green frog...
the charm of two chipmunks sharing their
food with a little bird...such scenes from
nature have a very special fascination for us
What kind of birds would you expect
to find in a bog?
What kind of frogs would you expect
to find in a swamp?
Are the trees young or stunted?
What is the appearance of the water?
How does it feel to walk on the mulch?
What plants can you find that belong
to the swamp community?
The bog community?
"Where?" is he

The Fair Maid attempts to turn her interests elsewhere...on the bog and the world that surrounds. But in the end, her thoughts succomb to feelings of missing her dream partner.

27

2007-09-11T07:13:00.000-05:00

feeling so blue
then I think
about you

A strange spread, because it is kinda tacky. Not sure about this one...It's symmetry is odd when the rest of the book is so free for all.

26

2007-09-11T07:00:00.000-05:00

Then she sighed. She had never
before minded being alone. Now she dreaded it. When she was
alone now she felt so dreadfully alone.

At this point in my personal life, I was realizing my marriage was going south. I kept feeling that being alone is one thing. Being alone with someone right next to you was quite another. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was expressing my loneliness in my creation of this book. The act of creation, upon retrospect, appears to be quite autobiographical sometimes. I can see parallels between what was happening in my life, and what is happening in the artwork all the time. In fact, towards the middle of this book, I was unable to complete the pages, in accordance with the plot. This project sat for 2 full years untouched, and unfinished.
There is a huge section here, perhaps 25 spreads (50 pp.) that are melancholy moments for the Fair Maid. I am not certain if I need so many pages in this portion of the story and plot. It is something I am looking at if I need to cut anywhere. It may appear out of balance with the ending. I don't want to end to seem short in comparison.

25

2007-09-10T12:53:00.003-05:00

A Bog dream that's bound to come true

Foreshadowing what is to come...

This page has the most excellent Bog word. I was really into type at the time, and I think this was prompted by all the cutting of letters and words for this book. I wanted each page to have interesting words to read, an interesting display of words also for the eyes, and creative words both with rhyming and prose mixed together. AEZ did an issue with odd typography. This is helping me date when I started the book, since it has been a few years!

24

2007-09-10T12:53:00.001-05:00

She had come from a place where
nothing was ever certainly known
Life in a Bog Dream

I don't think anything is Ever certainly known. Whether you are in a bog dream, or a forest, or real life...the only constant is change.

23

2007-09-10T12:52:00.002-05:00

Trapped in.
The dominion of
a dream
the maiden all forlorn,
lay in the humble
bog
nests among the trees;
Ponderously, fitfully, unevenly,
I know that somewhere there are trees,
And brooks that go meandering,
Somewhere in gardens there are bees
With hollyhocks philandering;
I know from signs that mark the sky,
And something tells me it's "that
desire which comes
from thinking
of him

22

2007-09-10T12:52:00.001-05:00

in treasured scraps of antique chintz
This sense of naturalness and ease is in fact achieved

21

2007-09-10T08:41:00.000-05:00

Lost in a maze of
some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for
all eternity. We can never pierce its infinite mystery—we may
only wander, awed and spellbound, on the outer fringe of it.
The woods call to us with a hundred voices.
A timeless far-flung
spirit in a nest
of dreams

When I was working on these pages, way back a few years ago....this spread quickly became one of my favorites. I don't know if it was just the green of the page or what. Now when I look at the book complete, there are so many favorites to pick from.

20

2007-09-10T08:39:00.000-05:00

The brook that ran
across the corner dimpled pellucidly in the shadows of the
birches. The poppies along its banks were like shallow cups of
moonlight.

The Fair maid returns to bog life, and begins a period of sorrow and longing.

19

2007-04-18T08:34:00.000-05:00

Bored "Nature has her rubbish heaps." I said.
I was so heartsick—I ran away to
come to
stand on a mountain
with a young moon kissing it,
TIME
maneuver among snow-capped peaks above
music of the
wind in the firs
you will have
what you wish!
things hoped for. But bide a wee."
acknowledgement of the inevitable
swept away
blissful comfort
wear it always. Dont' wait
know you've found the perfect
man.

That was a wonderful day in the little house of dreams.

And so ends the dreamy moment that the fair maid is having..She is bored with her regular life, bored to tears. She curses the natural world, the bog, her duties "Nature has her rubbish heaps". She stands on a mountain and hears the whispers of the world....and she learns that she should have what she wishes for....It is all too true.

18

2007-04-17T08:48:00.001-05:00

bound about her head with a crimson ribbon. She
wore a dress of some dark material, very plainly made, but
swathed about her waist, outlining its fine curves, was a vived
girdle of red silk. Her hands, clasped over her knee, were brown
and somewhat work-hardened; but the skin of ther throat and
cheeks was as white as cream. A flying gleam of sunset broke
through a low-lying western cloud and fell across her hair.
Presently she scrambled down the steep path to the little
nest of moss on the rocks beside the creek. Spray
from the rushing stream would keep the moss green all summer.

17

2007-04-16T10:11:00.000-05:00

a dear little home—and love—and happiness
—and glad dreams—everything I wanted—and never had—and
never could have. Oh, never could have! That was what stung!
Whirling round and round in the northern House of Dreams
I am a
slave to the spirit of the quest.
nothing but a dreamer.

16

2007-04-13T12:51:00.000-05:00

The forest has its own ways of determining what it will be.

the universe gives us what we call forth.

15

2007-04-13T12:42:00.000-05:00

Subservient to his will, and for him made
him," she said. He was someone to be
worshipped from afar. it would obviously
never be possible for them to meet.

Again, I look back at these words and they feel lame and weak. When I composed this book I was in an unhappy marital situation And I suppose I dreamt of the ideal... or realized the reality??....But at this point in time, away from it now ...almost divorced from it...I feel as tho this position of subservience is really pathetic, and olde-tyme stereotypical!
That's just exactly why this is a fairy tale...so I can get away with that kind of thing.
Besides, that is the way it appears to be in life most of the time. Women are subservient to the male of the species....and I guess embracing it could be more fun than bucking the system. Hence, she fondles herself.
That does sound so crass. But this is an explanation of symbols and pages and therefore, I am going to tell it like it is.

Would the fair maid ever meet "him"? This perfect kindred soul in her dreams??? It doth seem impossible.

14

2007-04-13T08:02:00.000-05:00

The water sparkled and crooned
the birches threw dappled shadows
in the shade of the mushroom house

He stands under the mottled light of a Tiffany mushroom....

13

2007-04-09T15:00:00.000-05:00

"I think I would have found a "kindred" spirit,'"
I thought you were so beautiful-I longed for weeks after to find
out who you were.

This page is key to the whole dream sequence...I notice I haven't accented it much with the words. (frown!) The fair maid comes upon her literal dream man, under the mushroom house, and of course as is typical with dreams, she had no idea who he was. But she seemed to know right away he was a "kindred spirit." This terminology was taken from Anne of Green Gables. I had 3 volumes that were old and shabby kicking around the studio while I was working on various pages and they are now cut up and shred, but always beloved...and now, they lend meanings to my own work. When I was a young girl, I had read the book and was quite taken with the descriptions of scenery and some of the ideas. One of those ideas was the kindred spirit....I have found many of these in my life. And here, the fair maid thinks she found one in her dreams.

I thought about this later, and resented that I deeply felt as tho a man of my dreams was the objective in life! But as I assess my life I notice that I really do live this way, thinking a man is what makes me complete. Perhaps it is somehow...but I resent it anyways.

12

2007-04-09T14:59:00.000-05:00

The maid began to see animals
in a strange place
Men
remarkable fetching and transgressive in the
celestial bog garden

11

2007-04-09T14:56:00.000-05:00

There's something going on that
I don't understand

a jolly motley throng
a startling apparition
the "animal forest" was in the dream civilization
clearly and distinctly an
apparition
a fools paradise of imaginary innocence.

There is always something going on that is not understood. Isn't that just the nature of life? Especially in dreams we seek to find the hidden meaning, the essence of ourselves....but not always can our answers be found.

10

2007-04-06T12:22:00.000-05:00

The fair maid
had an opportunity of seeing bodies in all
attitudes and from all sides.
it occurred in broad daylight
macabre chaos. the lovely
interplay of light and shade
suggest movement or space

In her dream, the fair maid saw men as animals, animals as men...and found that that she had her own animalistic tendencies.They were surreal and not threatening, in fact enticing.

9

2007-04-05T13:32:00.000-05:00

As she dreams
the most amazing bestial occurrence.

Lying in her boggy slumber, the fair maid has a dream...and of course as with all dreams, things are not as they seem. Men with bestial bodies....

8

2007-04-04T08:11:00.001-05:00

the Enchanted-land rules
on some coast of fairyland
curiously
far away
the Maiden asleep.
All in the greenwood.
Among the green weeds,
hidden by leaves.

7

2007-03-28T06:17:00.000-05:00

as in a glass, reflected there,
night is the noon
sun is the moon

this verse is one of my favorites.

6

2007-03-27T09:34:00.000-05:00

Golden slumbers
Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,
A drowsy maid snuggled down But the earth is not asleep.

After much bog work of filling the pitcher plants and picking flies out of the sundews and such, the fair maid retires to her fresh nest, and she bundles down amidst the moss for some rest. Consciousness of the world is suspended, but the world is not at rest. It never is.

5

2007-03-26T14:02:00.000-05:00

When there's a cloudburst
by willows, in a blossomy brook valley.
against a big, whispering fir wood,
You achieve a radiantly
healthy look.
and you're set to relax.

Then away she flew to gather more grass
and twigs and string for the nest.
clippings of boxwood, spruce and cedar, and snips of holly and pine. Add pods,
cones

Water is the source of life .Cloudbursts, showers....The water flows. This is a bog, after all. Without water, a bog does not exist.

4

2007-03-21T07:13:00.000-05:00

warm showers
gently back and forth
off-the-shoulder
washed the time away

A sunshiny shower
Won't last half an hour.
Summer breeze
send the showers,
come and smell my flowers.

She enjoys moments of repose in the sparkling moist bog. Standing among the pitcher plants, allowing gentle water to shower on her, she is nurtured by that which she nurtures.

3

2007-03-20T13:03:00.000-05:00

She could not stop staring at
into the otherness of nature, and see ourselves.
believed in the magical side of nature, dabbled in al-
chemy and mysteries, and was constantly experimenting with
magnets that would produce family harmony, or universal
salves, or celestial water

Just because you can't see things, doesn't mean they don't exist. The fair maid believes in things that aren't always seen. Sometimes there are powerful hidden forces, alchemy and mysteries, that are best left unexplained. The fair maid peers into the bog, looking for a harmonious experience with nature.

2

2007-03-19T15:03:00.000-05:00

What a fine place to build a nest.
She went away but soon came back with some twigs and grass.

Like a bird, she was away and came back....in order to find the parts for her nest. She literally IS going away and coming back by her body structure.

I immediately found in creating a book like this that endless images of one particular person don't exist, at least not 100 of them and in different facial expressions! By simple force I must have each page hold a different fair maid. But how fitting this really is, because the fair maid is universal and timeless. She is a persona, not a person, hence her lack of a real name--or specific facial identity. Even in her lack of identity, she is typical of most females in most societies, playing a crucial but background role in life. She fills the typical female roles, tending to the home, cleaning, gathering. She accepts the duties, knowing no other way.

1

2007-03-13T08:58:00.000-05:00

The fair maid who,
Goes to the fields
And washes in dew
brush the flies off her and
is building a
nest

The fair maid could be anyone, anywhere, anytime. She is represented by many faces, and none are the same, just as any one of us could be anyone, anytime we choose. This particular fair maid is a she, and fond of corsets. She is a maid, a servant, subservient to the world, and like most females she feels the worlds' needs come first, not hers. Before she builds the nest, she cleans her own person, brushing flies/debris off her, almost a sanctification and purification, a ritual. She wants to build her nest her way, the way she needs it to be done, by herself.