Labyrinth
Recently, I wrote about my wife, Becky, planning a Disney-themed house party. Well, it’s happened. We wore Disney clothing and displayed items from movies and TV programs throughout our home. The food was nearly all from movies, as well. Examples include spaghetti from Lady and the Tramp, pizza from Toy Story, ratatouille from the film of the same name, shrimp from Finding Nemo, salsa and chips from Coco, apple pie from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Get it?
We had multiple-choice and other word games, with winners getting prizes. (Honestly, everyone got a gift lottery ticket, as is Becky’s custom.) Not many winners, unfortunately.
For my own contribution to the party, I incorporated a labyrinth-themed street artwork I designed. I’ve been working on this project for three years and had hoped to paint it in chalk at the cul-de-sac where we live. Discretion, given that I have to live with inquisitive neighbors, got the better of me, so I toned down the design and reduced its size to fit on our driveway. Whereas my original design was round, the final iteration was 18 feet square.
First, I chalked a 12-inch grid, and then I painted the design with cornstarch mixed with red, blue or orange food coloring, which came out coral, blue bell and flaxen. As a fixative, I used inexpensive hairspray.
If you’re unfamiliar with labyrinths, they’re similar to mazes. You may have walked a corn maze, whereby a farmer had you find your way through stalks on the property. The drawback with mazes is they can have dead ends, causing you to retrace your steps and probably get a bit frustrated. Unlike mazes, labyrinths won’t get you lost. Get on the path, just keep following it and it will take you to the destination.
Labyrinths have existed for centuries, and many are in Europe, often at medieval churches. They were originally created to allow the pedestrian participant an opportunity for quiet, contemplative reflection. For my inspiration, I used the labyrinth that is part of Boston’s Armenian Heritage Park. That labyrinth is large, circular and its path is made of stone. From the air, one can discern a cross within the pattern.
Before painting my creation, I eyed the weather anxiously for the entire week preceding our Disney party. I applied my starchy concoctions on Wednesday and finalized the composition on Thursday. Naturally, that evening it rained. Each day thereafter, I touched it up, and each day more rain came. If it weren’t for the hairspray, the entire artwork probably would have washed away. But I took the weather in stride, for the project was intentionally designed to be temporary. The ancient Greeks would have termed it ‘ephemeral,’ lasting a day.
On party day, precisely when there was a clearing in the skies, I asked the dozens of guests to gather on the driveway. I had set up my large stepladder and climbed up to the next-to-highest level. I briefly explained my motivation and methodology, gave a short history of labyrinths, including Heritage Park’s, and asked everyone to wave. The accompanying painting is my amalgamated interpretation of the photographs I took.
Once the shooting was complete, we formed a conga line, beginning at the start point, and wormed our way back and forth until we arrived at the ultimate destination, right in the center of the design. There, a blue Mickey Mouse logo greeted us.
There was something magical about the entire labyrinth experience. First, taking photos with so many people was, by itself, wondrous. Then, getting all those folks to cooperate and walk the walk was miraculous. Next, creating a painting that synthesized all the photos taken and showed everyone in their best light, without closed eyes or turned heads, is something supernatural. Finally, and perhaps most important, everyone—kids and adults—simply had fun. Joy and camaraderie reigned supreme, if only for one day.
Now, onto the next project.
