Mr. Twig and his Big Step, the Mr. Twig Studies, his artist's vision, and his artist's as-yet fruitless instructions: by David Stafford, who has the patience of a saint

[Nancy Bell Scott]

David sent me a huge box with the incredible following items back in March. The tale's main subject, Mr. Twig himself, reveals a tentative but brave grace as he starts up David's watercolor-painted stairway into a cave marked The Secret of the Ages: 

The painting is 14"x14", and Mr. Twig is haptic. He is real and strokable. And he is on his way up into something many of us seek but who would tremble in the face of this most profound of opportunities. David's note describes his vision of Mr. Twig's past (stuck in a Gap box in "Nancy's Garage," quietly gathering dust) and Mr. Twig's future (immolation, at the unlikely hands of myself). The Gap box and the note: 

(The Oil Painting book, from 1943, that David also included is wondrous--I love it and posted a full scan of the cover in a past blogjam.)

Before discussing Mr. Twig's fate (yes, I have had wine and had a friend over), here are the intimate, glorious, and well-thought-out Mr. Twig Studies: This mail art made the month of March. It just...made it. It's so inventive and far out, and caused laughter and trepidation in the household for many weeks.

However, I have not set Mr. Twig on fire. Yet. Why not?

1. Something like Superglue is sticking Mr. Twig to the watercolor paper, and explosion is a very remote possibility.

2. Do we really want a fiery exit to be the result of our search for The Secret of the Ages? What example would that set? (Really, David, maybe you should try MY meds.)

3. Possible fear of fire, from age 9, when I leaned over the stove in flannel pajamas to get the Cheerios for breakfast, sat down at the table, and saw + felt my pajama top burst into flames. Great place to keep kids' food, but that's irrelevant, although it did mean inability to use the Bunson burner a few years later in science class, so ... 

4. Mr. Twig has found his way into my heart. How many people or creatures you love do YOU set on fire?

In a holding pattern for many weeks, not yet willing to dispatch this guy to the ether and therefore also unable to blog the art of the fiery exit, I sent David two cool old matchbooks, and asked him to keep one for himself. The other he was to send back to me as the chosen sacred one with which Mr. Twig's time on earth would end--a pretty cheap throwing the ball unfairly back into his court, in my own opinion!

David hasn't yet sent back a matchbook, probably because he was just about to take off on some dizzying trip to the Continent. Or maybe he got tired of waiting for me to do my duty and then blog it. Maybe he isn't even speaking to me! :--} (We know that's not so.) In any case, it is in fact the plan to carry out his wishes, and if and when that happens it will be documented in a separate blog. I just don't know when.

Thanks again, David, for this stupendous mail art, one of my top all-time favorites!
 

[Nancy Bell Scott]

That will do it, Lynn, and thanks, because I really hate heat.

[Lynn Radford]

Not only have I never read it, I never even heard of it...

Nancy, I was suggesting exactly that, but I will retract the idea if it will keep you from using the matches meant for Mr. Twig to set yourself alight!

[Nancy Bell Scott]

No on Mr. Twigg's Mistake, but now I'll look him up to have a more complete history of the current Mr. Twig since they are related.

[Nancy Bell Scott]

Via google we can see that the Art of Subtraction has, as you suspected, already been grabbed up, but not only by artists. The very first entry is the Art of Subtraction hair salon! In Austin, Texas. Clever! A guy named Jay Parini has a book of poems on Amazon with the title, and there are a bunch of self-help endeavors that use it. These were only on the first page of google regurgitation, and there are many many more. None as dull as Romney memoir, no doubt. I figured you for a hoarder, and I'm sure we've even discussed the pleasures of such a life at some points in the past year, but who knows where?

Lynn, are you suggesting a new *group*? I might set myself on fire if that happens... 

[David Stafford]

Works for me....did you ever read Mr. Twigg's Mistake by Robert Lawson when you were a child. I thought of him when I named the piece.

[Lynn Radford]

LOL! My bad, David! Let's call it Mr. Twig's Stairway to Ether, shall we?

[David Stafford]

Now don't bring Led Zeppelin into this, Lynn or this will become the blog that ate IUOMA.

[Lynn Radford]

P.S. Stairs are tough. That being said, this is my idea of Mr. Twig's Stairway to Heaven...

The above shot is of a page from my 2010 Sketchbook Project, Facing Forward, housed in the Brooklyn Art Library.

[Lynn Radford]

After reading this blog post and its comments, I am convinced that we are in need of a Mr. Twig Fan Club! Mr. Twig deserves to live on and reproduce long after he is released to ether... Am I alone in this? I think not.

[David Stafford]

Laughing here...No, I'm just like you (and probably much worse) in the hoarding department. Every little scrap of paper that falls before my eyes seems to be saying "Save me, Save Me and I'll become the jewel in the crown of some future creation." These magical pieces of paper usually win me over. When my desk is clear it usually means I'm in a fallow period. The Art of Subtraction....I'm sure there's some hypersmart conceptual artist who's come up with this already...and I'm also pretty sure it's dull as a Romney memoir.