Potion Bottles (Version One)

$10 - $15 (based on 2016 prices) 

Makes four bottles

No witch’s apothecary is complete without an assortment of well-used potion bottles. For this version, I utilized colored bottles and bright beads to give the collection a touch of vibrancy. The bottles are rectangular Roma, which are cheap and can be easily found in most craft stores.

• Four Roma colored-glass rectangle bottles with corks (4 oz. or larger)
• Eight small, multicolored stone beads
• Two yards of light-brown twine
• One piece of 8”x 11.5” copy paper with potion labels printed on it
• One 4 oz. bottle of all-purpose tacky glue*
• At least four tablespoons of black tea (e.g. Darjeeling, Earl Gary, English Breakfast, etc.)
• One pan large enough to soak the copy paper

1. Wrap the necks of the bottles with twine and knot the ends, trimming one and leaving the other with a two- or three-inch excess. To reinforce it, glue the knot.

2. Thread the beads onto the twine. It may help to use a needle and pliers during this process, utilizing the needle to guide the twine through the beads’ holes and the pliers to pull the twine through.

3. Separate the beads and knot the twine below each one to keep them in place. Following this, trim the excess twine from the final knot and glue it for reinforcement. 

4. Boil enough water to completely submerge the copy paper and pour it into the pan. Add the tea. The longer you allow the tea to brew, the darker the stain will become. Likewise, greater amounts of tea will produce a richer stain. I found that a combination of English and Irish Breakfast brewed for over ten minutes produces a nice, deep brown. Submerge the paper into the tea mixture and soak it until it reaches the color you desire. I soaked mine for eight hours and scattered the loose-leaf tea over the top of the paper to add spots. Remove the paper from the water and allow it to dry. It may help to perform this step a day or two before the others so the labels are dry once you enter the assembly process.

5. After the paper has dried, cut out the labels, leaving a small boarder around their edges. To roughen the labels’ appearance, use sandpaper to fray their sides and create holes. You can also crumple the paper to produce creases. Once you have achieved your desired level of distress, glue the labels to the sides of the bottles. You can use olive or vegetable oil to add further stains. I discovered that applying a small amount of oil to your index finger and patting it on the paper works well.

6. Return the corks to the bottles and use a pair of scissors to trim the twine’s frayed strands. If you want to add additional detail, fill the bottles with colored sand, dried herbs, or plastic critters. 

*You will not use the entire bottle’s content for this project.

American Folklore and the Headless Horseman: A Mini-Essay

     Following the United States’ independence from Great Britain, the youthful country began, as historian Cynthia Kierner expresses, a long process of constructing a national identity which was culturally, politically, and socially divorced from its former motherland. Over the period of decades, British customs were abandoned for newer American variations: the drinking of tea, for example, was supplanted by coffee. A distinct version of English - with altered pronunciations and spellings - was developed with the publication of Noah Webster’s An American Dictionary of the English Language. And artists, as Kierner highlights, drew heavily on themes and incidents from the nation’s short past to foster nationalistic identity and pride. From Charles Wilson’s and Gilbert Stuart’s paintings glorifying the Revolutionary War to publications such as Columbian Magazine and American Museum, creative and intellectual forces sought to mold a distinctive American consciousness. Although some of these works, including David Ramsay’s tedious History of the American Revolution and William Dunlap’s gothic Wieland, have been overlooked with the passage of time, others have maintained an unyielding presence and woven the country’s cultural fabric, particularly Washington Irving’s “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.”
      The child of English immigrants, Irving began his literary career at the young age of nineteen. After a series of moderately successful works, he released his collection of short stories, The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent., in 1819. Blending elements of Dutch and German folklore into a budding American sensibility, many of the tales recount the simplicity of pre-revolutionary life and, akin to the paintings of Stuart and Wilson, erect the foundation for a growing national identity. Among the collection’s more influential stories is “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” Set in a Dutch settlement, the atmospheric tale recounts the fateful encountered of Ichabod Crane and the nefarious Headless Horseman. Although scholarly interpretations vary on who, specifically, Crane encounters (some argue it is the jealous Abraham Van Brunt, others claim it is the spectral horseman, and a few stress it is nothing more than the schoolmaster’s own overactive imagination), the impact this nocturnal crossing has had on American folklore is unquestionable. As Christopher Fee and Jeffrey Webb attest, the horseman and his haunted hallow quickly became icons in the American consciousness, solidifying their undying role in a growing national mythology and becoming among the first legends for a developing culture. From John Quidor's 1858 painting to Walt Disney's 1949 film, the headless phantom has ridden his way into every element of society, distinguished himself as one of the first urban legends and serving as fodder for dozens more. In fact, the story, as Brian Jones asserts, fashioned the standard for the quintessential American horror story, “invent[ing] the spooky autumn atmosphere against which we now expect good Halloween tales to be set."

Works Referenced

Fee, Christopher and Jeffrey Webb. American Myths, Legends, and Tall Tales: An Encyclopedia of American Folklore. Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO, 2016.

Jones, Brian Jay. Washington Irving: The Definitive Biography of America’s First Bestselling Author. New York: Arcade Publishing, 2008.

Kierner, Cynthia. Revolutionary America, 1750-1815: Sources and Interpretations. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2003.

2015's Yard Haunt (Night)

2015: Voodoo Swamp

The second year of Haunted Hill's return allowed me to tinker with a theme I had been hankering to try: creole voodoo. Thankfully, a dear friend allowed me to transform her yard into a backwoods swamp, complete with alligator skulls, trinket-laden alters, strains of jazz music, and pounds of Mardi Gras beads. Although the haunt paled in comparison to the plans swimming within my imagination, it still yielded an impressive show, especially the fence smothered with beads, playing cards, and other knickknacks. Presented here are images of the haunt in all it's nocturnal glory.

"When the Night Wind Howls" (A Poem)

In January of 1887, William Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan released their comic opera Ruddigore; or, The Witch's Curse. The work centers around Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd, who has inherited a family curse: damned by one of the many witches he persecuted, the first Baronet of Ruddigore and all his successors must commit a crime every day or perish in agony. Incapable of performing his ancestors' heinous acts, Ruthven settles on petty crimes, including filing a false income tax return and forging his own will. Ruthven's mild behaviors irk his forefathers - who have all succumb to the curse's fate - and they return one evening to entice the young man into villainy. It is at this point, as David Huckvale highlights, that the opera's comedic tone takes a dramatic turn as Ruthven vows to kidnap a woman from the village and sacrifice her. This sudden change, according to Richard Traubner, is one of the main reasons Ruddigore failed during it premier and subsequent performances. In fact, it was not until the 1920s that audiences began to slowly appreciate the work. What follows is the song sung by Ruthven's predecessors as they tempt him into his inevitable crime.

When the night wind howls in the chimney cowls, and
     the bat in the moonlight flies,
And inky clouds, like funeral shrouds, sail over the
     midnight skies -
When the footpads quail at the night-bird's wail, and
     black dogs bay the moon,
Then is the spectres' holiday - then is the ghosts' high-
     noon!

As the sob of the breeze sweeps over the trees, and the
     mist lie low on the fen,
From grey tombstones are gathered the bones that once
     were women and men,
And away they go, with a mop and a mow, to the revel
     that ends too soon,
For cockcrow limits our holiday - the dead of the
     night's high-noon!

And then each ghost with his ladye-toast to their
     churchyard beds take flight,
With a kiss, perhaps, on her lantern chaps, and a grisly
     grim "good night:";
Till the welcome knell of the midnight bell rings forth
     its jolliest tune,
And ushers our next high holiday - the dead of the
     night's high-noon!

Works Referenced

Gilbert, William and Arthur Sullivan. "Ruddigore; or, The Witch's Curse." The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan. New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 1976. 349-398.

Huckvale, David. Touchstones of Gothic Horror: A Film Genealogy of Eleven Motifs and Images. Jefferson, NC: McFarland and Company, 2010.

Traubner, Richard. Operetta: A Theatrical History. New York: Routledge, 2003. 

2015's Yard Haunt (Day)

2015: Voodoo Swamp

The second year of Haunted Hill's return allowed me to tinker with a theme I had been hankering to try: creole voodoo. Thankfully, a dear friend allowed me to transform her yard into a backwoods swamp, complete with alligator skulls, trinket-laden alters, strains of jazz music, and pounds of Mardi Gras beads. Although the haunt paled in comparison to the plans swimming within my imagination, it still yielded an impressive show, especially the fence smothered with beads, playing cards, and other knickknacks. Presented here are images of the haunt by day (always less atmospheric than their nighttime counterparts, but the best means to reveal detail). 

The Anatomical Studies at Escuela Universitaria de Bellas Artes: A Mini-Essay

     In 1937, Felipe Cossío del Pomar, an exiled Peruvian artist, arrived in San Miguel with the hopes of establishing a Latin-American art school. With financial support from Mexico’s President, Lázaro Cárdenas, the artist utilized the partially demolished Convento de Concepción – a former nunnery and temporary camp for the Mexican army – as the site for his Escuela Universitaria de Bellas Artes. With the aid of Stirling Dickinson, an American Cossío had hired as the university’s art director, the institution flourished, drawing wealthy students from Mexico’s interior and featuring numerous distinguished speakers (including Pablo Neruda and Diego Rivera). Over time, the university’s global reputation grew and, as Kevin Delgado highlights, it gave birth to a notable community of artists in San Miguel. In 1945, as the Peruvian government demanded its exiles return, Cossío sold the school to two Italian brothers. The act, John Virtue stresses, led to the institution’s demise. Signing a contract with the United States government, the brothers began offering special rates to soldiers returning from World War II. This, coupled with a 1948 article in Life magazine which touted the university’s prestige and the cheap cost of living in San Miguel, spawned a flood of over 6,000 veterans and their families. The influx prompted a major shift in curriculum and sparked unrest with San Miguel's locals.
     While Cossío and his colleagues focused on traditional artwork and the preservation of ancestral crafts, the brothers, in an effort to boost attendance, incorporated more sensational courses, including nude portraiture and controversial still lifes utilizing the graves surrounding the former nunnery. If fact, the Life article prominently showcased the later, capturing student Loretta Hardesty standing amid the dilapidated graveyard as she sketched the discarded bones. As Scott Carney explains, the scene – for the magazine’s readers and those veterans flocking to San Miguel – was nothing more than an intriguing advertisement for the school that featured a beautiful young woman leisurely drawing the town’s neglected dead. As Carney states, “it doesn’t matter how the bones left their graves, only that they were good subjects for anatomical studies.” What these individuals failed to see, as both Carney and Virtue emphasize, was the flagrant disregard of the sacred: the bodies themselves, the hallowed ground in which they rested, and the reverence both held in Mexican society, particularly during la Dia de los Muertos. Indeed, for many citizens of San Miguel, the school’s new anatomical still lifes were not artistic exercises, but a gross disregard of the culture and its beliefs. For them, it made the dead and the societal veneration of them into a cold, inanimate subject. The villagers’ disdain, though, proved ephemeral. Toward the end of the 1940s, the United States government discovered the funds were being embezzled by the school’s new owners. The consequences were swift, but efficient: the doors to Escuela Universitaria de Bellas Artes were permanently closed; the faculty and students were reluctantly dispersed; the dreams of Cossío del Pomar were dismantled; and the bodies of the surrounding cemetery were allowed to slip solemnly back into their quiet slumber removed from lingering artists and charcoal-covered canvasses. 

Works Referenced

Carney, Scott. The Red Market: On the Trail of the World’s Organ Brokers, Bone Thieves, Blood Farmers, and Child Traffickers. New York: MJF Books, 2011.

Delgado, Kevin. Explorer’s Guide San Miguel de Allende and Guanajuato: A Great Destination. 2nd ed. Woodstock, VT: The Countryman Press, 2011.

“GI Paradise.” Life. January 1948: 56-58.

Virtue, John. Leonard and Reva Brooks: Artists in Exile in San Miguel de Allende. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2001.

Severed Fingers

$10 - $12 (based on 2015 prices)

Makes five fingers

When my little brother and I began yard haunting, it was easy to find realistic-looking body parts at local party shops. Over the years, though, the appearance of fake limbs has become more and more pathetic. Now, to acquire something believable, you have to make your own, buy it at an expensive special-effects store, or locate a hapless drifter. Since the last two options are impracticable (no one has the money for those stores), this project developed from my own attempts at self fabrication.

• Five vinyl fingers
• One 2 oz. bottle of acrylic paint in burgundy*
• One 2 oz. bottle of acrylic paint in coral *
• One 2 oz. bottle of acrylic paint in dark red*
• One 2 oz. bottle of acrylic paint in deep maroon*
• One 2 oz. bottle of acrylic paint in flesh tone*
• One 2 oz. bottle of acrylic paint in light pink*
• One 2 oz. bottle of acrylic paint in flat white*

1. On a newspaper-lined surface, apply three even coats of flesh-tone paint to the fingers. Although I used three, you may want more or less based on your desired coverage.

2. Give the fingers a smudging of coral paint, focusing primarily on the tips and around the knuckles. Use your own skin patterns or those found in a medical textbook for reference. Also, I discovered that applying a small amount of paint to your thumb and index finger and rubbing it onto the prop works well.

3. Dab light pink paint onto the nails. You may want to pat the excess with a paper towel, working with the coverage until it achieves a natural look. 

4. Smudge dark red paint around the tips of the fingers and along their cuticles. Here, too, patting the paint around the cuticles helps to blend it into the light pink.

5. Brush a band of white paint along the tips of the nails. Again, it may prove useful to reference your own hand or a medical textbook.

6. Cover the severed ends of the fingers with several even coats of deep maroon paint. I used two; however, you may want more or less depending on your coverage preferences.

7. Using a brush with splayed bristles, apply a smattering of burgundy paint around the wounds and up the sides of the fingers.

8. For additional detail, you can create random abrasions along the fingers by dabbing burgundy paint with a splayed-bristle brush and adding dark red paint to the centers.

9. The fingers work well by themselves or you can use them to build other props: create holes around the stumps and thread twine through them to fashion a necklace; place them in a monster's gnarled mouth; or allow them to take center stage in a specimen display.

*You will not use the entire bottle’s content for this project.