Welcome to the swamp! Here, lurking in the muck, where creativity spawns, you'll find Mrs Crocodile, aka Colleen Dunkel, a costumer and teacher based in Basel, Switzerland.


Thursday, September 30, 2010

The next most exciting thing...

Photo courtesy of Upstart Entertainment, by Sascha
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=5601853&id=652256572
It's been an exciting year costume-wise, not to mention the other activities which have made it so I have not sat down for two months.  If you don't know what those are, just use your imagination.  So on the subject of sitting and the subject of making costumes, the next most exciting thing I did this year  after dressing the girls in the chandelier costumes was to make underwear for a singer/actress in the Café Brel show with "I heart NY" on the bum.  So when Mariann Böhler lifts up her skirt while she's singing the Bourgeouis with Nina Meier-Bradlin and Lena Tamini, she gets a laugh from the audience.  Oh!  did I forget to mention the words to the song are pretty good, too. 
Directed by Krista Jacquet and also starring Dany Demuth, Andrew Fernandes and Norman Koeth, they are accompanied by Christine Archer on the piano as they sing their way through the fantastic compositions of Brel, serve you drinks and basically make you feel like it was well worth getting off your seat and out of the house and into the theater again.  So it's too bad that the show is only happening for two more nights, and most likely already sold out.  No, actually it's wonderful that so many people can see my creations and are ready for a real night out but keep tabs on the upstart entertainment site http://www.upstart-entertainment.ch/.
They are good.
Yours with I love NY underwear on,
Mrs Crocodile



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Wednesday, September 8, 2010

The mating habits of the Abalone

I am not a scientist, unless they do a lot with scissors, then I have missed my calling. But this is the background to the continuation of the story I started sometime earlier about the boxes and it fits into this animal's mating habits.  When I was a child, my parents came home with lots of abalone, and after beating them with a mallet that's only other use must be for beating dead horses, and since these poor crustaceans are almost extinct, I feel responsible.  So don't eat abalone.  The poor things, the male abalone sits on a reef and spews out his stuff in hopes that a female of mating age and fertility may be somewhere in the vicinity.  Tough luck if she's just out of spewing reach.  And I really think writing in those little boxes on Facebook or sending a tweet is something similar: you spew it out over the reef and you hope a female might be waiting.  If you go to Facebook now, you'll see that the story is taking shape in my little boxes there.  It's wildly fun to think of one sentence a day, maybe by the time I'm 60 it will be a book!  But what I'm also sure was wildly fun was my brother taking this picture of an abalone off of Catalina Island.  Can you see it?  They also marvelously blend into their surroundings so you almost don't notice them, except for the feelers wiggling around.
Thanks for this picture, brother!  Don't eat it!
Mrs Crocodile



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Sunday, September 5, 2010

The shoe does fit, but you can't wear it out the house...

Here's another collage for you. Please don't ask me when I have time to make collages, I force my kids to make them. The real story is this: I wanted to get some work done in the office and had the kids with me, so in order to work un-interrupted on the computer for a few moments, I opened my file with all the really good cut outs I was saving for myself and gave them very reluctantly, with some glue, to the kids. They came up with this one.


I like the extremely high heel, could you really even walk out the door in that? Or stand at all? And then on top of the pedestal? Never mind, who needs to leave the house with that reverse snowman chubby tummy look. "Is it about to melt?" I asked. Moving on up from there, it's the mouth which is a woman's mouth but decorated with a moustach on it. And instead of hair, she (or is it a he?) has an enormous eye-lash. I wondered if the whole scalp could bat an eyelash.

I wish I could fit all of life onto this wall and all my musings and cuttings up but I daresay, I censor myself too much, but also there's a whole lot of TMI around here. The nice thing about this collage is although it looks quite precarious, it is not really about to fall. And I daresay that is sometimes the nice thing about life, too. Even wearing flat shoes, you can walk on the edge, but don't fall.


Yours,
Mrs Crocodile







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Wednesday, September 1, 2010

The shoe does not fit: and other stories: moving...

The sunset from the new place
My most devoted blog readers are composed of my mom, her friend, my grandmother, one friend who lives in Qatar and the mystery follower, who happens to be following my blog from India, so this post is for you devotees.  Anyone I forgot to mention, feel free to carry on reading.  Actually, I started this whole blogging thing to understand what a blog is, and in the name of it's-great-to-have-a-place-to-express-yourself and more because, if I need to have an online presence, I find that little box on facebook where it says: "What's on your mind?", just exceedingly small.  I have also tried tweets on twitter.  In the beginning I thought, "Great!" It's not friends like facebook, it's followers!  I'll be famous!  But I got to the point where my only followers were my mom and my ex-husband (feel free to laugh out loud here, because I was feeling really famous).  So naturally slightly taken aback, my creative juices were stumped.  I posted a couple of exceedingly short utterances in a box on twitter, and I was done.
But I'm not giving up.  Today I posted a sentence in my little box on facebook which is totally taken out of context.  I intend to think outside the box and use many boxes to make a story. Maybe you'll be my follower and make me feel famous, but it's not that really.  It's about moving.  Most of my worldly possessions are packed in boxes now and waiting to be opened in a newly revised country, a new place.  My box!
Yours, from the packing front,
Mrs Crocodile


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