Showing posts with label Ray Bradbury. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ray Bradbury. Show all posts

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Remembering Ray Bradbury on El Dia de los Muertos


 Last year, I took part in a local art gallery's celebration of El Dia de los Muertos-- the Mexican celebration of the Day of the Dead-- and made an altar remembering Edgar Allan Poe. That was my first venture into creating a piece to remember someone on the Day of the Dead; and Edgar was a natural subject, being that his writing so heavily influenced my life from a very early age. I loved the experience of creating Edgar's altar, and everything it stood for-- esentially making an installation piece of art to memoralize and celebrate the departed during the fall harvest season, when death stands over all our traditions, holiday and celebrations. I was fortunate enough to have a great response to my piece; and so grateful for others who appreciated, understood my remembrance of Edgar.


 I jumped at the chance to make another altar this year. At first, I had no idea who I would memorialize. I had several ideas in mind, with some seeds of a possibility. But nothing took hold and developed in my mind as fast as the idea for Poe did last year. And then Ray Bradbury passed away. I wrote a bit about the influence Ray had on my life here on this blog; like Poe, Ray's novels and stories so centered on the dark, the fall and All Hallow's Eve gave me a great friend and companion, as a child of Halloween. After writing the post about Ray, I had the idea to make an altar for him on the Day of the Dead.

 The first ideas I had for Ray weren't the best, or most complete. My first thought was that in addition to Halloween, Bradbury's legacy is, most popularly, his novel "Fahrenheit 451": a tale of a human future where the government censors all books, and burns them. In most every part of our world today, we may not burn books-- yet. But there are governments, people and other forces out there who have no problem banning them, or trying to. It made sense to me that part of Ray's altar had to be the attention he drew to burned/banned books, and the supression of thought and the written word. Initially, I thought I would pile stacks of books that had been banned or are commonly challenged. Think "Harry Potter," and "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" and "Of Mice and Men." There are so many commonly challenged books, I could go to a thrift shop and pick up whatever I didn't have.

 And then I found this old Corona typewriter at an estate sale. Something about it-- being older, an antique, so writerly, appealed to me; without ever thinking of Ray and his altar. The idea occured later, when I was watching an interview with him and looking for ideas to help remember him and he talked of writing on his typewriter, that I could use the typewriter as his, for my altar. I could even have a piece of his writing coming out of it. I would pile the banned books around the typewriter-- and I thought I had my altar.

 One big sticking point for me was the fact, though, I didn't have enough planned to remember Ray's love for Halloween, October, and all the things of the harvest. For a long time my concept felt incomplete. Until, in late October, a harsh wind storm brought down a tree that had been dying in my backyard. I hated that the tree had come down-- and angrily I broke it into pieces to be more easily taken away. I looked at the pieces of tree in my hand, and knew then that I had to use these as part of my altar-- because of Ray's "The Halloween Tree." I had been looking for a way to connect this novel, especially, to my altar, as there is a whole part in the book about the Day of the Dead. And here the way was.

 The final altar, titled "Ray Bradbury: 1920 - 2012," is an old red writing/end table. On top of the table is the typewriter. In the typewriter is a piece of paper with a qutoation from Bradbury's "Fahrenheit 451," and around the typewriter are other Bradbury writings, from that novel and "The Halloween Tree." The pages are burnt. Also on the table are pieces of wood from the branches of a tree. Leaning against the table are two big branches from that tree-- and instead of the jack o'lanterns from "The Halloween Tree," the branches hold pieces of burnt paper, with selected passages from commonly challenged and banned books. All of Ray's work is on the typewriter and the table; his legacy, the books that go on to be banned, are on the branches surrounding. In the bottom of the desk are unknown books, faced backward; and another branch with banned words. At the foot of the piece is my traditional El Dia de los Muertos food element: a carved pumpkin, with the numbers "451," made to look like flames.

 No real books were harmed in the making of this altar. I was nervous that it wouldn't be easy to know by sight what the altar was about, who it may directly be to and the difference betwen the paper "book pages" and why they were burnt. I was endlessly thrilled at the opening of the "Altars" show when numerous people got it, exactly. It felt wonderful that I could honor Ray Bradbury and his legacy, in my small way, and have others remember, as well. The absolute best compliment I received all night was from one of the other altar artists, who told me, "Thank you for remembering him."


You can see the full gallery of my altar and the Day of the Dead opening here:
Ray Bradbury Altar, "Altars" Opening, El Dia de los Muertos 2012


And here is a short video of my "451" jack o'lantern in action:

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Rest among the stars, Mr. Bradbury

Oil painting, Ray Bradbury

"'Mr. Moundshroud, will we ever stop being afraid of nights and death?" 
"When you reach the stars, boy, yes, and live there forever, all the fears will go, and Death himself will die...'"


-Ray Bradbury, "The Halloween Tree" 


 I last wrote about Ray Bradbury this past October. And how, as with each best and busiest autumnal season, I want to read the beauty of his novel "The Halloween Tree" yet again. From as early an age as I can remember, Ray's voice was one of the few which spoke to me, when he perfectly understood that which comes with the fall, and the Halloween season. As I've continued to read and reread him further into life, I find that, while perfect for youth, his voice understands and speaks to October's children so complexly, so personally, all their lives long. 


 This week, Ray passed away at age 91. The man who famously (and encouraged others to do so) wrote every day, amassed in his 91 years a body of work a canon all to his own, and one which I'm sure will cement him a giant in twentieth century literature. Working so often in the mixing genres of horror, science fiction, magical realism and all which lies between his many worlds, I know I have not read anywhere near all the Bradbury I should, or will. Among my favorite novels, I count the dark orange flickering lit jack o'lanterns peering from the many branches at the young friends in "The Halloween Tree," the threat of the deceptive, dark, weird and tortured carnival train bearing the witch and like wickedness coming to your small town with "Something Wicked This Way Comes," and the family of monsters assembled in "From the Dust Returned." 


Bradbury and family, 1958
 I believe we are all put here to, in our own way, beat death. The ways in which we do this so differ, but I know Ray's was all his own. With his words, with the enduring legacy of his novels and stories, Ray will forever live there in the stars. Cheers to Ray, and a life well lived, worked. 


"'Mr. Moundshroud, will we ever stop being afraid of nights and death?" 

"When you reach the stars, boy, yes, and live there forever, all the fears will go, and Death himself will die...'"





Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Ray Bradbury's "The Halloween Tree"


Each start of October for the last few years, I've felt a desire to reread what may very well be my favorite novel of Ray Bradbury's-- "The Halloween Tree." A writer of science-fiction, the paranormal and tales not so comfortably labeled (but always with an October bent), Bradbury's seemingly young adult novel follows the lives of several young friends on Halloween night. "It was a small town by a small river and a small lake in a small northern part of a Midwest state," begins Bradbury's novel, which is no small literary feat.

 Throughout the boys' night, they come to know and understand the origins of All Hallow's Eve, as they are taken on a fantastical tour through history of humanity's ability to deal with the harvest, the darkness, the coming death. The passages in the novel, as the boys literally travel the history of Halloween night and are confronted with their own mortality, are simply beautiful. Rarely has Halloween been so perfectly captured, described, explored than in this book.

 And while the inevitable animated adaptation is not in so many ways the novel-- it is a very respectable job. Narrated by Leonard Nemoy and with a script by Bradbury himself, the adaptation, rarely shown and hard to find on VHS even on the internet, does the work proud.

 I think I'll go find my copy, and crack the spine.