Wands
One of my first weeks on the street corner I discovered the potential
of wooden magic. I had a bad head cold, so I made a "Runny Nose"
(a large-nosed head with whirligig legs and a long handle to push
it around) and took it to my pitch. As soon as I sold it, my head
cleared up. The customer returned the next week to complain of
coming down with the flu. I shrugged. And started taking orders
for symbolic implements.
Magic wands became a stock-in-trade on the corner. "Bright Ideas,"
with a light bulb and an on-off switch, for students at the design
school. Parking space wands, with little cars you twirled to make
a space between. Lost key wands to find them. People would come
with an intent, and I'd conjure a wand to symbolize it. I made
dozens of them. Without guarantee.
But I wore the idea out sometime in the mid 70s, and didn't make
a wand for 20 years. Then, one summer's day I felt the urge to
wand, and pondered where to begin. In alchemical work, the process
begins in a negredo, a darkness, sometimes symbolized by a raven:
the carrion bird who rends the old dead material. So I carved
a raven. It needed a handle, and what better than a long bone
to perch on?
The day after I finished it, a long time patroness arrived. She
had sad news. Her breast cancer, which had been in remission,
had metastasized into her bones. In fact, the very bone I had
symbolized. I was chilled, and insisted she take the wand. It
was obviously for her. She used it to peck away at the cancer
using creative visualization. That was the beginning of a series of medical wands for spirit
healing. A year full of illnesses and symbol work. I didn't take
many pictures of those wands, as I now realize. I did record the
"Owl on a Bleeding Moon," which was commissioned by one sufferer
after a fevered dream.
I continue to make wands, and other healing symbols, at need.
This "Boob Angel" is for a lady with breast cancer. Sometimes
the best medicine is laughter.
