Strike a pose: Puppets gone fashionista in the middle of the night!

Posted on December 9, 2011 by lizcameron

Before dawn even thought about setting out its electric blue cloak, those puppets were at it again. Having given up sleep after a couple of hours, and having given up spinning in the Sufi style they usually adored, those puppets had snuck into my handbag, and rigged up a stereo contraption to my ipod, and were playing Madonna’s Vogue over and over again. Who knew those puppets understood the concept of “repeat” to listen to a song over and over, and over again some more.

All I could hear was “Come on – Hacivad – strike a pose!” and “Nice striking of pose, Zenne, work it girl!” I’ll be damned if they weren’t practicing their dance moves for tonight’s dance party hosted by the Sultan of Nutcrackers. I had some feisty puppets in my head, that’s for sure. M. snored on, oblivious to the puppet parade going on in my head, but our dog looked at me with a wary set of eyes, moving his head back and forwards as if to find the exact location of the tiny animals that were masquerading as Karagoz shadow puppets over on the lazy susan in the dining room.

Sneaking out of the bed so as not to awaken M., I closed the bedroom door, and inquired as to what all the noise was about – at 4 a.m., no less? Remembering that we had no water – I ignored the fact that I had to pee and decided to watch the puppets instead. Feeling footloose and fancy free – the puppets were vogueing around, movin’ and groovin’ and havin’ a great old time – all while engaging in some great debate. As the puppets, uncharacteristically, did not respond to me, I pulled up a chair to the dining room table, and leaned in to listen to the debate.

Kenne

One of the as-yet-unknown chorus of dancing lady puppets was making a vociferous argument. “I vote no. Why should we stick to traditional attire? We may be representing the Ottoman empire of the puppet and doll universe, but why can’t we be fashionistas about it if we want to? I think we should each wear what we want. ”

Kenne replied with a sharp tongue to this little lady, saying “Safiye, you must remember your honor – not like this Madonna woman – you must guard your honor and not bedeck yourself in a way that besmirches our own Sultan! I am wearing traditional garb in turkuaz.”

Safiye, the now-named puppet, stalked off at full vogue clip, planting her feet on the ground and sashaying better than any modern-day model on the runway, carrot-legged in stance the whole way. “I am my own puppet, and I will take no fashion guidance from you – of course I will not lose my honor! I intend to wear the Star of the East house tonight – the best of the Ege Deniz (Aegean sea)!

Jumping over to my dormant iphone, Safiye started jumping up and down on it, trying to find a particular website, and she soon did. All of the puppets gathered around to see her fashion choices – apparently puppet Fedex delivers from Turkey in less than 12 hours – I didn’t ask. Apparently, Safiye is somewhat of a bohemian type. Here were her fashion choices….an Ottoman-era inspired dress from an Italian designer named Matthan Guriwho sells on

Sea Urchin Ring with bling from Star of the East on etsy.com

etsy.com as well as sea urchin earrings, ring and necklace from the Star of the East jewelry store on etsy.com– I wasn’t sure it really coordinated – but she shot me the death look and said “freedom of choice for all fashionistas – get your fashion laws off of my body, m’lady!”

Sea Urchin Earrings with bling from Star of the East on etsy.com

Wow, I thought. These little puppets, usually so devoted to me and my comfort, they are going a bit wild here! Kenne stomped off to attend to the steaming of her traditional dress…mumbling under her breath. Safiye rang up Star of the East on skype to arrange immediate delivery through the puppetsphere, talking as loudly as she could so Kenne could hear her.

Khadijah

Eventually, the hubbub led to some consensus, and everyone decided to wear what they would – a true diaspora of fashionistas…Khadijah decided that she would wear her wedding attire, as she loved it so. Celebi was deciding between a red silk suit in modern style – and a moss green suit of silk shantung more like those worn in Mustafa Kemal Ataturk’s time – although not in that color or fabric! Hacivad Bey decided on wearing a pumped up turban, to use the modern parlance, perhaps best described as being akin to Sultan Sulayman’s fashion choice in his Venetian portrait.

Even Karagoz was getting into the action, fashioning a ridiculous suit made of tin foil, saran wrap and prosciutto – after watching Lady Gaga in her meat dress, no doubt. How were these puppets getting exposed to 2011 culture, I wondered? I guess they could see all that I saw, whether I was aware of it or not. I wondered if Kenne would worry about Lady Gaga and maintaining her honor. I decided that that would be a fiery meeting, for sure.

The insanely large turban of Sultan Suleyman I (from this website)

Tiring of watching the fashion debate, I minced my way downstairs to the garden, and responded to the needs of nature – hoping the postman wasn’t up early. This peeing in the garden thing was not going to last long in my book. I hoped that we would get into the garage soon – and be able to turn our water on (little did I know that it would take us half a day to determine that the problem was a rusty-almost-kaput-battery about the size of a penny that we overlooked for hours while bickering up a storm).

But for now, I was happy to have a place to pee – and head upstairs to try making tea with sparkling water from a bottle. Upon returning to the party preparation scene, I set to making my own cup of tea for the first time in weeks – the little ladies were way too busy to do this work today – they, after all, had a party to go to. Sparkling water, it turns out, is just fine for tea. Slurping down my tea in a somewhat unladylike fashion, I quickly readied to take my dog for a walk, as the dawn light was moving into a pink stage. “Is it always pink light around here, m’lady?” asked one of the chorus puppets “you know, like last night with all of the pink lights?”

She turned out to be the only puppet not busy with fashion preparations who was willing to accompany me on my morning walk. “Tell me, mademoiselle,” I asked, “what is your name – we haven’t really met before?” Beaming with pride at the chance to be introduced and to have some one and one time with her human, she answered “I am Esma, m’lady, at your service.”

A December 2011 rose on Commercial Street in Provincetown, at dawn

As Esma and I set out, with our dog in tow, we basked in the early morning glory of pinkish orange light flowing all over the last roses of the early winter season – all of them pink. “Ah, perfect,” Esma sighed, “I know what I will wear, a dress of rose petals in this bright, happy fuschia pink.” I smiled at the little hippie puppet, satisfied with the joys of the natural world around her, and walked on into the breeze of the bay.

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The Sultan of Nutcrackers issues an invitation to the puppets

Posted on December 8, 2011 by lizcameron

His Highness, The Sultan of Nutcrackers, resident of Provincetown, Massachusetts

When we were last together, dear reader, Hacivad Bey was struggling forward through the thronging crowd of Karagöz shadow puppets in order to respond to the newly discovered Sultan of Nutcrackers. The Sultan had just issued his welcome, and inquired about where the puppets hailed from “in his kingdom.”

Zenne called out to Hacivad – “Canım (dear), remember your very best âdâb-ı muâşeret (the Ottoman Turkish word for ‘etiquette’). These are foreigners – we may need to use our Avrupa Âdâb-ı Muâşereti yahut Alafranga (European-style etiquette).” Hacivad Bey, normally the consumate, zen-like and peaceful gentleman of words and letters, shot her the death look. Apparently the death look exists in Karagöz puppet marriages as well as human ones. 🙂 Before Karagöz could even get a word in to mock the death look moment, several of the little dancing ladies caught him in their long veils and stopped him from a) making a fool of himself and b) possibly creating some sort of inter-species puppet diplomatic incident.

Bowing graciously to the Sultan of Nutcrackers, Hacivad Bey assumed a most regal stance and tone of voice, saying “We offer you our sincere thanks for your most kind and generous welcome to this very interesting and open-hearted land. I am not sure we come from within your kingdom – I don’t know what your kingdom is, but we are actually Karagöz shadow puppets from the Ottoman empire era – in what is now referred to as Turkey, sir. And, well, uh, er, um, we are a rather unique group of this puppet species, as we live in the head of this human woman here. We are called by our inner hearts to guide her on her ‘road trip through her Turkish-American cross-cultural marriage’ – although truth be told, lately, she is really taking us on a road trip through America as well!”

The Sultan lifted himself up, listening intently as Hacivad spoke. Placing his hands together in an almost prayerful position, he spoke with great authority and a calm sense of respect for the Karagöz shadow puppet troupe and its emissary. “I see, I see…I have heard of this special calling that some puppets and dolls have…yes indeed I have, but I have not yet had the honor to meet any of this sort – and let me, therefore, extend my welcome to your human as well.” Startled, I jumped back a bit – not only did I have a troupe of rollicking Karagöz shadow puppets in my head, but I now had the Sultan of Nutcrackers as well. This could get interesting. “Thank you, Sultan, sir, for your welcome.”

With a suddenly quite chipper and cheerful note, the Sultan spoke on – throwing his arms out wide and knocking over some of his subjects without meaning to (a quick apology made under his breath) “Please, dear human and puppets, do you need a place to rest? Oh – sorry folks.” Hacivad Bey proceeded to explain that we had a home – but that we were just out walking the dog and learning about Provincetown along the way, but that we were grateful. As this conversation ensued, I noticed that some of the little chorus of dancing ladies were engaging in sign language with some of the Sultan’s subjects…but I couldn’t quite tell what was going on.

Ammon the Nutcracker doll from Egypt (Misir - formerly part of the Ottoman Empire)Ignoring these goings on, the Sultan continued “I must also state” his Nutcracker jaw clacking in its squareness, the jaw overworked by his loquacious welcome, “that I do know of the Ottoman Empire – and actually, two of my subjects hail from this region many generations ago as well – please meet Ammon and Tawaret.” Ammon and Tawaret, resplendent in their golden skin, stepped forth silently and gracefully, bowing in greeting, before bestowing some wicked winks our way. “I am sure that Ammon and Tawaret will make you feel right at home in this town – perhaps they can show you around tomorrow? And, while I am mentioning tomorrow, puppets, would you care to join us at the Nutcracker’s annual ball – all the puppets and dolls in town participate – we would love for you to be our guests!”

Tawaret the Nutcracker doll from Egypt (Misir - formerly part of the Ottoman Empire)

All puppet eyes turned to me. “May we, please, may we m’lady? May we go to the puppet ball and go on the tour with Ammon and Tawaret?” I was stumped. I didn’t know I had such power over the puppets – but they were in MY head after all, so…well…”of course, sweethearts, you help me so much – I think I can manage on my own for a night – why not!” Cheers erupted, hats flew in the air, and plans were made to meet for the tour at 10 a.m. the next day.

Meanwhile, back in the world in which the puppets and dolls could not be seen in their verbal and animated state, M. hurried me along – we were, after all, tired and walking down the street in our pajamas and coats. It was time to go home and rest up for a big day tomorrow. The happy jumble of ecstatic puppets and tired humans made their way back down Commercial Street to the Provincetown perch and the puppets fell asleep before their heads even hit the pillow….but we humans realized that we had a bigger problem – no water in the house… (to be continued)

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Walking through Ptown at night: LGBT civil rights symbols and the Sultan of Nutcrackers

Posted on December 7, 2011 by lizcameron

Image of the Provincetown monument at night

The wood upon wood sound of the lazy susan rotating dominated the tiny white house as I made ready for bed in our Provincetown perch.That lazy susan was carrying the tiny Karagöz puppets as they spun their goodnights to the universe as a silent group.  As if suddenly inspired by Madonna’s “vogue” they had all seemed to strike an early 1990s pose versus adopting the Sufi spinningstance of my roadtrip dreamscape.  Imagine tiny wax paper puppets, striking cool poses, flying around on a wooden lazy susan at about 11 at night in Provincetown– yup, that’s my life.

Madonna, "vogueing"

Click clack, another sound was back, and I noticed that our pup was walking anxiously back and forth, ready for his walk, his nails indicating the time for grooming was upon us and that we had totally forgotten to take him on his night walk.  The puppets – a few of them – broke their “vogue” pose stances a bit to see if they could gather my attention – but no.  Donning coats over our pajamas – as anything goes in Provincetown – we headed out the door for a walk around our quiet end of town with just enough time for the puppets to join hands and jump at the last rattle of the lazy susan onto my coattails before climbing up to nestle themselves into my moss green, magenta and satsuma green scarf with turkuaz flecks.  There will be no peace from the puppets, most of the time.  Karagöz rode herd on the top of my head, crying “giddyup, cowgirl!”  The little chorus of dancing ladies burrowed themselves deeply in the scarf now – looking out between the wide woven spaces to check out the scene.

We passed Angel Foods, it’s halo signage painted on the window, stacks of gourmet cheese and chocolate spilling off of the shelves, and the broken china driveway glowing ghostly pink in the holiday lighting.  Khadijah was perplexed.  “Why, m’lady, is all of this broken china not in the rubbish, but in the driveway?  The housecleaners must be very lazy”  As usual, I entered teaching mode.  “Well, Khadijah, it is a style of driveway that mimics the broken shell driveways on the coast here – it is a way to re-use something that is broken, a green concept.”  Khadijah pointed out that green was the color of the Ottoman flag – what did this have to do with Islam, and a conversation ensued about the various meanings of green as we ambled down Commercial Street.

Red saplings installation in front of PAAM – the puppets were very curious about this!

We passed the painted-red sapling installation at the Provincetown modern Art Museum.  Kenne and Zenne were wide-eyed through my scarf – “What strange place is this where trees grow in bright red shades – and have no leaves?”

We passed pink and rainbow-light lit houses galore…with the puppets wondering about the choice of colors.  I explained that pink is a color that has been adopted as a result of re-claiming the negative use of the color in Nazi Germany.  As wikipedia says: “Originally intended as a badge of shame, the pink triangle (often inverted from its Nazi usage) has been reclaimed as an international symbol of gay pride and the gay rights movement, and is second in popularity only to the rainbow flag.” The puppets expressed outrage at the story of the pink triangle – and talked about how to some extent, Gay and/or Bisexual men  were accepted in the Ottoman court…so why was this an issue?  As our dog pulled us along in our sleepy, pajama’d state, we had a long talk about Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender history re: oppression and civil rights movements.  As we spoke, the puppets pointed out the rainbow flags, pink triangles and pink lights they saw along the way.  Hacivad proclaimed: “This must be a very open place, this Provincetown, from what we can see!”  I nodded my head, indeed it is.

The Nutcracker Species of Puppets/Dolls caught the collective eye of my very own in-house puppets – – in a window in Provincetown

And then we walked by a brightly-lit window…and all bets were off.  Apparently the puppets have better eyesight than I do, as they all leaned forward and nearly choked me with their collective weight pulling the scarf down around my neck…”Look…at…that!”  Hacivad cried.  “It is people, well, dolls, our size – all together!  Why are they all standing at attention in that window like that?  This must be a different puppet species…”  The collective gasps, oohs and ahs flew around my head while the puppets led me via my scarf (as if I was a horse with reigns) towards the window.  “Oh, this is a group of Nutcracker dolls, for Christmas!” I said, proceeding to explain about Tchaikovsky and The Nutcracker Suite and the hilarity of a Nutcracker collection here in Provincetown given the double entendres that could ensue.  Pulling me close to the glass, they practically plastered themselves to the window – and I realized for the first time that the puppets had breath – as I could see little foggy patches where they were pressing themselves to the window – calling out to the Nutcrackers in all of their various Ottoman era languages to see which one would work – Armenian, Arabic, Turkish – and finally settling on the commonality of English.

The Sultan of Nutcrackers in Provincetown, Massachusetts

The Nutcrackers didn’t move, at first.  And then a few of them started to move their eyes.  And then I noticed the Sultan – resplendent in his blue velvet cap, with a diamond on the front – a diamond the size of a golf ball.  He shook himself a bit, as if to shake of the stiffness of standing in a window for so long – and issues his greetings! “Welcome, puppet people – from where in my kingdom do you hail?”  A hushed silence fell on the shadow puppets, as Hacivad Bey was pushed forward to speak for the group.  (To be continued).

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