Angel Snakes

Old Coot's Cabin

Old Coot’s Cabin
by Gay Pogue
Fiber with paper and acrylic paint
24 x 31 inches 

In the quiet of Black Mountain, the Raven's call reached out to waken the Angel Snake Rachel from her beauty sleep. She was a long way from the echoing sounds of horns, screeching brakes, and roaring engines bouncing between the buildings of lower Manhattan where she had lived the first twenty-five years of her life. She was still not sure how she had wound up here and even less sure why she stayed; maybe because like Manhattan, up here the sun's rays rarely reached the ground and she had to fly a quarter mile to the top of the mountain to find a rock for a decent bask.

A distant train whistle signaled time to get up and get moving. Old Coot, her artist, had work to do. She had to encourage him. That was a muse's job. She had grown fond of him and had quickly seen through his grouchiness to understand it as his defense against being hurt again.

The only place his gentleness and kindness showed was in his work, in the faces of the figures he carved from wood harvested from the slopes of Black Mountain. So gentle was the old man that he harvested wood only from fallen trees or those clearly near death and beyond healing 

With Old Coot, her job amounted to sitting with him, being present. He knew his craft and seemed driven to produce. Rachel's greatest challenge was to keep her tongue in her mouth. In her youth, she had trouble with that and so was often in conflict with her artists. Her suggestions and comments were seldom welcome. Out here on The Mountain, she felt no real need to comment. 

Rachel might have thought that he did not like her except for the snacks he left on the ledge above his workbench. Several weeks ago she noticed that before placing the snacks on a china plate he cleaned off the ledge. A few days later, he added a crystal bowl of spring water. Then every so often he would add a rock or two, arranging them in an artful pattern.

Rachel herself was a painter. Her tail itched to get into some paint. She had no clear idea of what she wanted to paint, she just wanted to feel the creaminess and smear it around, watching the colors melt into new hues. She wanted that dreamy feeling of being at one with her medium. She wanted the rush of being surprised by what she had just created.

Finally, one day in early spring, she could stand it no longer and blurted out, "The next time you go to town, buy me some paint." 

For a solid hour, he made no acknowledgement of her demand. Then miraculously asked, "What color?"

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Red, yellow, blue, white, and black." A week later, after a visit to his gallery in town, Old Coot returned after dark. She had not really expected him to remember the paint. 

Mid-morning the next day, she went out onto the porch to survey the sky and the new green leaves budding out on the trees. It would be a nice day. As she turned to re-enter the workroom, she noticed that under the window against the wall were lined up five cans of paint, five one-gallon cans of paint.

#13 in the “Angel Snake Houses” series
Completed March 2012

Gay Pogue

gay@angelsnakes.com

http://angelsnakes.com

 

 

 

 

Moonrise at Teepee House

Moonrise at Teepee House
by Gay Pogue
Fiber with paper, glitter, and acrylic paint
19 x 25 inches

The Angel Snake princess warmly greeted the three young visitors who approached her camp. She invited them into the shade of her human’s teepee. The early morning sun had already begun to heat up the desert sands.

 Her human was away gathering supplies: canvas, stretchers, brushes, and pigments for new paintings to replace the ones he was delivering to his gallery. He also would purchase food and drink to last for several weeks. She usually went into town with him, but for some reason had decided to remain in camp. He could be trusted to bring her what she needed.

 Although her human was a charming, talented, successful painter, she had recently discovered that she was lonely for the company of her own kind. Her body’s insistence that it was time to find a mate grew stronger every day.

Excursions into town always lasted until well after dark. Tonight her artist would have no trouble finding his way home in the bright full moon that would rise at dusk. He might stay away even longer. She would have plenty of time to execute her hastily hatched plan.

Before her stood not one, but three, viable candidates with whom to mate. She would choose in the time-honored tradition of all great females.

After providing ample food and drink, and seeing burning desire in the eyes of each of them, she made her announcement: “I am lonely out here in the desert, and you are all delightful company. I thank you for your smiles and diverting stories. I wish that I could ask all three of you to stay with me forever. Alas, that is not possible.

“Since any of you would make a suitable mate and father for my children, I will leave it to you to work out who will remain with me and which two will continue the journey this evening.

“In the meantime, I shall go into the tent to rest. At moonrise, I shall return to greet the champion.”

Perhaps, someday the champion would find enough solace in his mate and offspring to make up for the friends he had lost. And perhaps, someday the two who had to leave would as well be able to repair their shattered friendship.

#12 in the “Angel Snake Houses” series
Completed February 2011

Gay Pogue
gay@angelsnakes.com
http://angelsnakes.com

 

Sunrise at Teepee House

Sunrise at Teepee House
by Gay Pogue
Fiber with paper, glitter, and acrylic paint As
18 x 24¾ inches

The three Desperadoes (That is what they called themselves) approached the lone teepee, they slithered along exhibiting far more courage than they felt. The recent graduates from the Wisconsin Angel Snake Academy were taking the customary post-graduation trip to decide where they would settle down and begin making a contribution to society. They had reached Arizona and although they had had lots of fun, so far their heartstrings had not been plucked with anything even resembling excitement. After years of the cold winter warrens in that northern clime, they were indeed desperate for something to stir their imaginations. 

Arizona’s barren landscape and strong sun colors showed promise. Amos, Andrew, and Arthur approached the teepee cautiously. Something stirred within the structure and inched its way out. 

In unison, all three gasped sharply. Not only had they never seen such a lovely creature, until now, they had considered her existence mythological. Clearly an Angel Snake of royal lineage stood before them. 

“Wings Up!!! Welcome to my home.” Her quiet hypnotic voice sliced the silence, leaving no doubt about her bloodline. 

At once, the easy camaraderie of the trio vanished. In the strong light of the desert morning, desperation of another kind boiled their blood.

#11 in the “Angel Snake Houses” series 
Completed February 2012

Gay Pogue

gay@angelsnakes.com

http://angelsnakes.com

House of the Rising Moon

House of the Rising Moon 

by Gay Pogue
Fiber with paper, glitter, and acrylic paint
22 x 31.5 inches

The Angel Snake Marcus sat on a hill across the road from the house where his artist “Wild Will” lived. On this night for some reason the moon took up most of the sky, dwarfing the cottage, the truck, and the things Will had failed to take from the clothesline earlier in the evening. 

Will made art cloth—wild, one-of-a-kind lengths of fabric that his patrons turned into designer fashions and avant-garde upholstered furniture. Today’s productions fluttered in the breeze, catching the soft light of the moon. Marcus needed to go in and remind Will about the cloth before the evening damp took hold. 

Marcus would wait just a moment while the moon hung so low to let two clouds drift by so he could burn the stark image into the back of his brain. 

Ahh! Now he knew why he had waited. Angel Snakes from the area were out roaming the countryside. Marcus had been too long away from the company of others of his kind. 

The art cloth was on its own. 

#10 in the “Angel Snake Houses” series 

Completed December 2011

 

The Manufactured Home

The Manufactured Home 

by Gay Pogue
Fiber with paper, beads, and acrylic paint
20 x 25 inches 

Ever the optimist, the Angel Snake Roland was not in the least daunted by the sight of Clarisse and Kyle’s new home in the woods. They were artists with powerful imaginations. In their minds’ eyes, they did not see it as it was but as they would make it. Roland would ensure that they did not lose their vision.

Clarisse’s parents owned, but seldom visited, that 37 acres in Central Texas—a tick-infested, weed-overgrown, vine-entangled, steep sloping jungle at the end of a seven-mile one-lane road. A rusty rig still pumped crude out of the ground on one corner of the property. Of course, Clarisse’s parents did not own the mineral rights. A neglected old house trailer sat smack in the middle of it all. They would live there. 

The only thing right about the whole deal was the price---the cost of the taxes and utilities. They had to make it work because they intended to survive by creating and selling their art.

Clarisse made art quilts; Kyle made fine furniture and household items from lovely local wood.

The naïve couple begged and bartered for paint and supplies necessary to turn the trailer into their dream home. Perhaps its dire condition gave Clarisse the courage to paint it to resemble her quilts. Nonetheless, it soon became the talk of the region and attracted visitors and buyers from all around.

Roland liked to think that he had a great deal to do with the outcome.

#8 in the “Angel Snake Houses” series
Completed October 2011

 

Moving Van

The Moving Van

by Gay Pogue
Fiber with paper, beads, and metal
18.5 x 25.5 inches

Melinda loved going to new places, meeting new people, seeing new things, making new friends; she did not like stuffing her life into boxes to be carted down the road.

The screech of the strapping tape ripping out of the dispenser always sent chills up Melinda’s arms. She felt as though her true home was the moving van itself. How could she not? The boxes were never set out on the street for someone else to pick up and reuse, but instead, carefully cut down, sorted, and stored for the next move which always seemed to come just when she was getting settled. For that matter, some boxes were never even emptied, just dragged from storage facility to storage facility.

Mostly though, she hated never having a studio, a real home for her creative pursuits.

Overhearing her whining, the cashier at the local art supply store recommended the Angel Snake Moving Company. She said those guys, while taking a little getting used to, understood artists and their unique needs. The Angel Snakes would set up the studio first and then stuff the rest of the household around it.

Melinda hoped her movers could, indeed, accomplish this mission impossible. 

#9 in the “Angel Snake Houses” series
Completed November 2011

Gay Pogue
gay@angelsnakes.com
http://angelsnakes.com

 

Angel Snake Houses: House on the Moor #2

House on the Moor #2

by Gay Pogue
Fiber with beads, paper, acrylic paint
21 x 18 inches

The Angel Snake Sean lived out on the moor with the Daugherty’s. Most of the time he kept to himself in his space under the eves. Sometimes he would venture out alone to explore the landscape and enjoy its delicious loneliness. He would soar on the wind or bask in the sunlight that worked its way through the clouds.

Perhaps as a memory of each visit, he would return with a colorful shiny stone in his mouth. How he found such loveliness in that barren place was anyone’s guess.

Over time his treasures piled up and spilled from his living area to the kitchen and the studio. Finally Mrs. D suggested that he decorate the perimeter of the cottage. Soon his colorful stones encircled the base of the dwelling and passersby would stop to admire them. One day Johnny stopped. Their lives were changed forever. 

#6 in the “Angel Snake Houses” series
Completed August 2011

Angel Snake Houses: House on the Moor #1

House on the Moor #1

by Gay Pogue
Fiber with beads, paper, acrylic paint
20 x 18.5 inches

In an unfortunate sentimental moment, the Angel Snake Jason had promised his dying grandmother to visit his cousins at least twice a year and take them a gift. The cousins were a morose, stingy lot who lived in some ancient warrens east of his snug cottage on the moor. This time, he proudly bore a single earring he found a fortnight ago near the lane. He was sure they had nothing so fine in all their tunnels.

When Jason arrived at their dwelling, his smile and gift were met with stony stares. They just turned and entered their dark maze. He followed and remained in their public room the requisite hours. Lunch was but a few blades of withered grass and several drops of brackish water. Long pauses punctuated the dull attempts at conversation. Perhaps he should have brought food or wine instead.

As they emerged from the gloom for the customary postprandial bask on the rock above their home, they saw dark clouds to the west. Jason snatched the opportunity to bid a hasty farewell. As he flew, the whole sky turned dark purple and furiously pelted him with rain, sleet, hail, and lightening. Fearing for his life, he pushed himself to the very limits of his physical abilities.

The aroma of his favorite stew steaming on the fire met him as he finally scooted under the eves of his cottage. All was well.

#5 in the “Angel Snake Houses” series
Completed August 2011

The Birthday House

The Birthday House

by Gay Pogue
Fiber with paper, beads, and acrylic paint
21 x 15.5 inches 

Sybil and Charlie lived in an ordinary neighborhood in an ordinary town. They and all their neighbors lived in ordinary houses. Their ordinary lives were pleasant, but . . . ordinary.

Last Tuesday on their usual post-breakfast fly-about, the sun shone brighter than usual. The previous night’s rain had washed their world clean and crystal droplets still glistened on the tips of leaves 

Their hearts soared and pushed their wings to fly higher than ever before. Charlie grew quite dizzy and Sybil became giddy with delight. In great sweeping circles, they flew even higher still, until in the distance they spotted a large red banner waving in the breeze. They looked at each other, winked, broke their spiral, and headed toward it at top speed.

Could this be a house someone actually lived in? A tiered cake, iced in pink, red, and gold set on a purple lawn with blue trees? The pennant flying from the candle flag pole proudly proclaiming “Happy Birthday” to one and all?

What else could they do but glide down, sing the old song, and stretch out on the top tier for an extraordinary bask?

No ordinary day.

#7 in the “Angel Snake Houses” series
Completed September 2011

 

Angel Snake Houses: Matilda's Yellow House

Matilda’s Yellow House

by Gay Pogue
Fiber with assorted embellishments
20 x18 inches

Matilda fancied herself an artist. Everyone understood that and made allowances. But no one understood what got into her the night she painted all the criss-crossed stripes on the front of her house.

The community association had already met and was sending a delegation to attempt a peaceful resolution. 

On the roof question last year, the vote had been 4-3 in favor of letting her go ahead, but the strippy-stripey façade would not fly.  The lines were not even straight, for heaven’s sake; and she had not asked in advance for permission to alter the existing paint.

Alas, Matilda had allowed her Angel Snake Rex to invite friends over one evening. They got to partying. Things got out of hand.

What could she do?  Matilda would just have to eat crow and repaint. She hated it.

 

#3 in the “Angel Snake Houses” series
Completed July 2011