Surprise Balls: Origins and Tucson musings

I’m gearing up for a favorite pastime – crafting surprise balls. Beyond the handmade gifts and gift baskets I will sell on www.tucsoncowgirl.com, I’m preparing a special Sonoran holiday Surprise Ball to be part of the Holiday Nights gallery show at Tohono Chul Park. I appreciate the consideration of the curators there, especially my friend and diva Sonoran crafter Peggy, for the opportunity to be part of this fabulous exhibit and art sale.

I’ve gathered some special vintage holiday fabric as well as some newer repurposed swatches for my surprise ball. I have collected some little treasures discovered in New York thrift shops and button stores to use in my ball. There also will be some embroidery stitches as well antique charms on this holiday ball. So I am happy as I prepare.Although my surprise ball will contain more fabric than paper (the main ingredient of the more traditional surprise balls), I will use some special paper, selected from China and Japan. Why Asian paper? To honor the roots of this pretty gift.

Like other paper traditions including the Mexican papel picado – paper surprise balls have their roots in Asian tradition. You may not know that China not only invented paper (in the Eastern Han Dynasty circa 104 A.D.), it also created the first surprise balls. Chinese New Years are gloriously colorful celebrations with fireworks, decorative lanterns and wonderful legends. Families exchange gifts (some of which are “surprises” or coins wrapped in red and gold paper). And another tradition is eating dumpling soup – wherein there is one dumpling with a surprise inside! The person claiming the favored dumpling will receive good fortune throughout the year.

So the magic of surprise balls goes beyond my definition here in Tucson. I am happy to stir in some desert-styled ingredients as I prepare my craft. And as I work on my tiny contribution to the Tucson contemporary folk art scene, the memories of many happy childhood Christmases return and warm my heart.

I Played NYC’s Battery Maritime Building, Thanks to David Byrne

If I had a music idol in the 70s, he was David Byrne and the Talking Heads. Songs like And She Was, Psycho Killer, and Once In a Lifetime spoke to me – They were brilliant poems, profound cultural statements and musical experiences. And so when Leigh and I visited NYC last week I knew I needed to see the giant art/musical installation by David Byrne in the old ferry terminal downtown.

I suggest everyone take a weekend before August 24 and head down to the Battery Maritime Building (adjacent to Staten Island Ferry Terminal). In a wing of this historic terminal you will find Playing the Building, an experience created by David Byrne (with a group called Creative Time) that is both art and music. You enter the huge terminal space and find an old church organ. It sits in the middle, with colorful spaghetti strings of cables draping out and attaching to columns, girders and pipes. The organ pumps away (through energy of visitors) and from the keys come eccentric clangs and lovely sounds. We the public are allowed to sit at the organ and contribute to the experience. As you take the time to walk the space, you discover dimensions beyond your organ playing that at first may be hidden. The experience grows. The history and beauty still in the bones of this building come alive. Who else but an artist like David Byrne could find the ghosts of an old building and turn it into an artful, musical instrument?

For one dollar an interesting poster will serve as an installation schematic and help you ponder the work. I read that David says he tried to create “an experience in which one begins to reexamine one’s surroundings and to realize that culture — of which sound and music are parts — doesn’t always have to be produced by professionals and packaged in a consumable form.”

Thank you David Byrne for timeless, edgy, interesting art and music. You continue to fire my imagination and your work rings true for me. If you ever visit Tucson, I'll treat you to a local beer (or fruit drink or margarita) and we can talk about bones and buildings and culture and 70s music that never dies.

And now, Queen of the Night

Our Peniocereus greggii bloomed tonight with her two fragrant white flowers. For the entire year it appears as if this little plant is twirl of dead sticks, but for one night it transforms into a magnificent Queen of the Night with gorgeous blooms.

So tonight is the night to tell the story of the night-blooming cereus. The Tohono O’odham Native Americans have a legend behind the blooming of this plant, and I will try to summarize it here:

In ancient times a young Papago (Tohono O’odham) woman met and married a Yaqui, and went to live with his family far away. The young woman’s mother, called Old White-Haired Woman, missed her daughter, and would go every night to the foothills to talk with her daughter’s spirit.

When her daughter’s spirit did not speak one night, Old White-Haired Woman knew her daughter needed her urgently. Old White-Haired Woman was very bent but she traveled quickly, helped by the “Little People” or animal spirits, who brought her food and sustained her along the way. When she finally reached her daughter, sadly she saw that her daughter was dying. The daughter in her last wish asked Old White-Haired Woman to take her son back to the Tohono O’odham, so he could grow into a gentle man instead of a fighting warrior in the Yaqui nation.

The old woman was tired but she knew she needed to help her daughter. She quietly placed her grandson in her daughter’s burden basket. Shouldering the basket, Old White-Haired Woman snuck out of the village that night, and began the long journey back to the Tohono O’odham.

But Yaqui warriors followed her. She struggled, falling and running as fast as she could with her grandchild. She was so old. The Little People or animal spirits of the coyote tried to help but it was not enough. Old White-Haired Woman called out to the Indian god I’itoi, as she struggled with her last breaths. The Indian god came and sent birds to blind the warriors. Old White-Haired Woman could not go on, and asked I’itoi to take the grandson back to her village. He granted her request – and swiftly brought the grandson back to learn to live as a peaceful warrior with the Tohono O’odham nation.

The old woman was happy, as she neared death all alone in the desert. Then she saw her daughter’s spirit smiling, and joyfully Old White-Haired Woman’s spirit went to be with her daughter.

Some time later, I’itoi returned to the spot where the old woman lay – but only her two arms were visible above the desert sands that had buried her.

You did well, Old White Haired Woman, said I’itoi. And as a reward for your goodness, for one night every year you will be reborn to tell the world the importance of love.

With that, I’itoi touched the spindly arms of the old woman – and from the spindles beautiful huge fragrant flowers appeared. These flowers are the night-blooming cereus, and all night bloomers today are borne from Old White-Haired Woman. One night each year, the desert is privileged to watch this wondrous bloom. It is a reminder to us all of the great power of love.

And so goes the story of Queen of the Night (adapted from the formal tale by author Harold Bell Wright, published in Long Ago Told: Legends of the Papago Indians (New York: D. Appleton, 1929). I also want to give credit to Russ Buhrow of Tohono Chul Park, who tells the story during the Park's "night blooming cereus night."

May each of us learn from Old White-Haired Woman, and may each of us always appreciate the power of love in our lives!