"When a woman teams up with a snake
a real moral storm threatens somewhere."
-- Stacey Schiff, Cleopatra: A Life
|Medusa mask 12-8-13|
"Then Bernice winced as Marjorie tossed her own hair
over her shoulders and began to twist it slowly into two
long blond braids until in her cream-colored negligee she
looked like a delicate painting of some Saxon princess.
Fascinated, Bernice watched the braids grow.
Heavy and luxurious they were, moving under the supple fingers
like restive snakes."
-- F. Scott Fitzgerald, "Bernice Bobs Her Hair"
|Medusa mask (2) 12-8-13|
"You have to snake the drain when my hair gets clogged."
-- Beth Murphy, He's Just Not That Into You
I made another Medusa!
This brings me to a grand total of eight Medusa faces so far.
I've used my own face, Barbie, my hand, plaster, paper mache, face paint, wooden snakes, rubber snakes, plastic snakes, a Pin Art toy and dreidel dreidel dreidel I made one out of clay.
(Just type "Medusa" in the search bar if you want to see them all.)
This time I re-purposed a terrible 99 cent plaster mask that I found at the thrift store. Someone had hand-painted it really, really badly with music notes and "New Orleans" and "Jazz." They tried to paint the lips and eyes, but was pretty stinking awful. It had a grubby pink ribbon on it, too.
But I saw potential in this sad little castoff and plopped down my 99 cents and brought her home for an upgrade.
I still have a whole bunch of bargain basement Halloween-closeout-plastic-glow-in-the-dark snakes from Target -- just like the ones I used for the Senor Wences Medusa face (which you can view by clicking here: Senor Wences Medusa)
I glued the snakes to the mask, then painted the whole thing in with a dark brown hammered-finish metallic spray paint, then hit it with a little matte spray to take down the shine, and finally, dry-brushed it with gold acrylic paint. Even though it's made of plaster and plastic, I think the metallic look is pretty convincing.
The mask is about a third the size of a wearable mask, so this one will have to live as wall art, which, I hope, is a more satisfying existence for her that laying forgotten on a dusty shelf at Goodwill. I left her 99 cents sticker on the back, though, so she doesn't forget where she came from.