The Presence of Strings

Cairo’s Tahrir Square is vibrating with revolutionary demands. The American midsection is shivering under thunder snow. The Ilm Wiese is flooded and muddied by a rapid thaw. In a world gone crazy with man-made and natural disasters my solace is a library filled with grand ideas. I live several lives at a time. I am reading your Daybook of the Italian Journey 1786, while flipping through a modern novel about a father to son relationship, and, off and on, I am admiring individual contributions to the magazine Puppetry International.

            It is the magazine that makes me philosophical today. Issue #27. The piece is “Vertical Balance” by Irina Niculescu. She writes about strings – the connection between puppet and puppeteer. As she explores her relationship to marionettes she speaks of their helplessness, their “tragic-comic essence.”

            When I prepared P.K. I tried to make the strings as invisible as possible. I had never thought of strings as lifelines before. I was convinced that the manipulator should be hidden away. Then I watched a video clip in which a marionette discovers his attachment to the manipulator; the manipulator even holds his hand for a moment, but the marionette is obsessed with freeing himself; he tears down his strings and collapses on the floor. It was at that moment that I understood the connection.

When the kit arrived I wondered about the colorful strings attached to the wooden pieces. The color coding is designed to help the fledgling manipulator see which movement he is performing. I re-connected all the strings this morning after I had glued in the hands and sewn the scarf to the dress. But I did not try to walk the marionette. Clearly I haven’t found either form or balance or relationship yet; I am at the beginning of my journey. My marionette is evolving with each piece of clothing, each tug at her hair, each tentative pull of a string. Most importantly, with each photograph. In studying light and shadow, color, shape, I see movement develop and backgrounds and props emerge. I recognize a question mark in the face I painted. A faint proposal of essence.

Because I gave it some thought, I pause in my writing, feel bold enough to command the first steps.

Command, I said. Not a good choice of word.

After a failed attempt to make the marionette walk I have come to my senses. It is too early to make the connection. I am not ready.

A gentle lift of one green string. She waves good night.

Good night..                                   

Highstrung or Unbalanced? Who's at Fault when a Marionette doesn't Walk Properly?

I must tell you about my new obsession with marionettes. There are names. Important names. They influence the view of the builder, manipulator, actor, spectator. Tony Sarg and Bil Baird are two of them. Puppetry has its own language. I just read the article “My Own Private Püterschein” in Puppetry International. Ronnie Burkett – himself a famous puppeteer – talks about a Sarg knee joint and a Baird turnbuckle. Burkett is a Püterschein defender – Püterschein Authority seems to be an inside joke, having to do with the Dwiggins theory of counterbalanced marionette construction. And though I am a bit confused, I am learning lots of new terms.

Marionette Masters seem to have been seduced by puppet theater around the age of seven or eight and have started their own shows at eleven or twelve. I myself owned a set of hand puppets and have played with marionettes as child, but I preferred small dolls for which I sewed clothes and decorated shoebox houses.

The phrase, “marionettes are the hardest to control” has crossed my recent path more than once. “You’re a fool,” it mocks me. You are about 60 years too old for this.”

Hey, I know. That’s why I ordered a marionette kit after I chopped up a teddy bear for string manipulation, but was unable to manipulate him. I had already named him, before he began to turn and twist on his airplane controls. He wouldn’t walk – his legs dangled in the air and spun around. I had named him P.K. Pudels Kern.

Pudels Kern is not about truth; it is about balance, or in P.K.s case about the lack of it. Seeking balance is more important than imparting truth to a manipulated object. At any rate, it is the more realistically appropriate concern for now. Not that I should consider appropriateness over truthful transfer of information when reasoning myself into puppet play, but all my endeavors are subjective; they start with my interpretation. My truth. But apparently not always with my balance.

So! Well! Before I interpret I need a balanced puppet. It arrived on Saturday, January 29. A properly balanced, loosely jointed marionette skeleton with red, blue, yellow, and green strings and its own stand. I immediately began to drape and wrap and cover to establish a connection. After two days of testing we decided on black cotton for a dress and a red wig for the bald, wooden head. She required Walter Keane eyes to become the slightly melancholy wild child she decided to be. I am working on a purple scarf but don’t know yet if she will accept it. Her sad face and bright hair make me happy. I hope she is still in balance when she is completed. Maybe I am too impatient to be a puppeteer. Let’s see who is in control.

Regards,

Gisela