The Logical Lizard

This review contains spoilers. Last week I looked at the history of the original Prisoner television show and, in particular, its beautiful and enigmatic primary location, Portmeirion. I am not a number, I am a free man, so I will freely admit that I sat through all six hours of AMC’s Prisoner remake (okay, they called it an “interpretation,” whatever), loaded as it was with interminable advertisements for cars, palm-sized telephones, and other things you don’t need.

In the plus column the cast was, for the most part, rather good, particularly and not surprisingly the mighty Ian McKellan who is a towering talent and always a treat to watch. The production values were high, the locations lush, and the series itself did have a few memorable moments, but only a few.

The first two episodes were rather dull and I thought to myself: “Well, they’re just setting the scene, it’ll get better.” The second two episodes were also rather dull and I said to myself: “They’re saving all the action for the end.” The final two episodes were also rather dull and then I had nothing left to say to myself.

Portmeirion, the intriguing primary location for the original "Prisoner" series, was replaced by desert landscapes in AMC's remake

A major flaw is James Caviezel’s portrayal of Number Six. He showed none of the sarcasm, wit, or humor that the great Patrick McGoohan brought to the original. McGoohan’s Number Six is fiercely independent, confident, and determined, but he’s also mischievous and complicated. He’d wander around The Village, knowing he was under surveillance, smiling at hidden cameras like a wily cat, just to confuse his watchers. He had the ability to make his enemies think he was up to something even if he wasn’t. Viewers believe that McGoohan’s Number Six can outsmart a small army of captors, and he turns the tables on his enemies so slowly and craftily that the viewer doesn’t really notice until Six has the upper hand and begins to destabilize The Village. However, my biggest issue with AMC’s remake is that it is just so sadly predictable. By the second episode it’s obvious that The Village is some sort of creation managed by the evil corporation that Caviezel’s Six once worked for. What a tired cliché, and the idea of “duplicate” personalities from the real world, living in The Village construct has been done before (and done better) in the groundbreaking science fiction film Tron as well as William Gibson’s masterful Neuromancer. Where is the mystery in the new Prisoner? One of the beauties of the original is that we never fully understand what is going on. As McGoohan’s Six says in “Many Happy Returns”: “I have a problem too. I don’t know which side is running The Village.”

So, in an attempt to, I suppose, update the original AMC took the easy way out, pitting Caviezel’s unimaginative Six against an Orwellian corporation, and then further slowed down what little excitement there is with an endless series of annoying flashbacks. The remake is largely a character drama, with precious little action. We don’t get to enjoy the ingenious and relentless escape attempts carried out by McGoohan’s Six, and Caviezel’s Six just isn’t engaging enough to hold the viewer’s attention as he participates in a halfhearted battle of wits with McKellan. Christopher Eccleston of the new Dr. Who series was, at one point, slated to play Six in the remake, and that I would have loved to witness! Eccleston is exciting, dangerous, and unpredictable and could have held his own against McKellan.

I fully appreciate that the new series is an original work and it should be judged on its own merits, rather than mercilessly compared to the original. That being said, if you have the gall to remake one of the most adored and influential series in television history, then you had better be prepared for the comparisons anyway. It’s unavoidable.

The verdict? AMC’s remake gets two stars out of five and it would have been only one without Ian McKellan. Patrick McGoohan is, and always will be, the real Number Six. Sorry AMC, I won’t be seeing you.

Sometimes good things just keep on getting better. With about 170 working artists to choose from, scattered far and wide across greater Tucson, making the most of this past weekend’s Open Studio Tour was a massive and inspiring challenge. Since I have a number of close friends who are accomplished Tucson artists, I have a pleasant but unfortunate tendency to park myself at a colleague’s studio for half the tour, spend a delightful afternoon chatting and sipping wine, thereby missing out on so much of what the tour has to offer. This year, I was determined to get out, see more and do more, and I did.

On Friday I profiled a few of my favorite local Tucson artists in The Logical Lizard, including Lisa Marie Morrison of Sirocco Design, Suzanne Morrison of Backcountry Photography and photographer Stu Jenks, and much of Saturday was spent visiting with them. On Sunday I made it a mission to meet some new artists, see some new work, and maybe add an original or two to the Logical Lizard’s modest art collection. These were some of my personal highlights:

Artist Chris Bishop and part of the outdoor exhibit at Maiden Arizona

Chris Bishop of maidenarizona.com, is a transplant from New Jersey and her artistic journey to Arizona reminded me more than a little of my own. She is interested in everything from photo mosaics to creative desert landscaping. Chris invited five women artists to help transform her home studio on North Monroe Crescent into a two-day indoor/outdoor art show encompassing watercolors, textiles, mosaics, found-art collage, and other mixed media. She has gathered a fine group of talented people around her and I was particularly impressed by art teacher and fiber artist Jacqueline Bland, and Joanne Pritzen’s colorful mixed media found art collages that somehow managed to happily reminded me of both Roy Lichtenstein and Kurt Schwitters in the same instant (Twosies, a lovely vibrant piece that was featured in the TPAC guide came home with me).

At 2409 North Castro I enjoyed watercolor instructor Bob Goldman’s beautiful figure work in pen, charcoal, and pastels as well as clasically inspired portraits by Hope Cunningham.

Later in the afternoon I took a long drive down to Pantano and Escalante to view some impressive large works by metal sculptor and blacksmith Jason E. Butler. Jason was at the JCC unveiling a new work, and I was treated to a tour of his workshop by his wife Mary. Jason also teaches metal working at Pima Community College and his sculpture is an intriguing blend of organic and industrial elements.

Metal sculpture by Jason E. Butler

Metal sculpture by Jason E. Butler

Elizabeth Frank is an artist’s artist. Widely admired within the community, she works with fallen aspen branches (collected during an annual pilgrimage to Colorado) and found objects such as discarded tin ceiling plates, vintage photos, keys, hinges and abandoned furniture. The result is a series of magical and whimsical sculptures. Tall, elegant, ethereal figures clustered together on pedestals in her aerie-like space atop the Labor Temple Studios at 267 South Stone reminded me of haunting black and white photos taken in Alberto Giacometti’s Paris studio during the 1960s. After a couple of glasses of chardonnay, I realized I’d fallen hopelessly in love with the delicate and pensive Moonlight Angel, and that piece asked to go home with me too. A venerable Tucson building, the Labor Temple is home to five artists and is a must-see venue on the studio tour.

Tucson artist Elizabeth Frank

Elizabeth Frank studio

"Moonlight Angel" (detail) by Elizabeth Frank

At the 7th Avenue Arts District Studios, sculptor Dana Smith’s work caught my eye. As a paleontologist and science writer I was fascinated by her large scale ceramic work, inspired by fossil ammonites from Morocco and Madagascar, and ancient trilobites. A lively conversation revealed that Dana and I have a long string of mutual friends in the science world, and I accidentally delivered a (hopefully) short lecture on the history of ammonites—an extinct cephalopod in which I have a particular interest.

Sculptor Dana Smith and some of her fossil-inspired recent works

As usual, I ended the day with my pal Stu Jenks. I was treated to a preview of his gorgeous new fine art photography book, Hoop Dancing: More Journeys Through Nocturnal Photography, Book Two which will be published next week and limited to 300 signed and numbered copies.

Photographer Stu Jenks in his studio on North Seventh Avenue

So, after consuming two long days, numerous slices of brie, and almost half a tank of gas, that left about 145 artists I didn’t get to visit this year. I wish I could get everywhere and see everything, but the Open Studio Tour would have to last at least two weeks to make such a thing even possible. But what I did see underscored something I already know well: Tucson is blessed with a diverse, friendly and fabulous arts community.

My compliments to the Tucson Pima Arts Council for organizing another successful event, and also to the supporting sponsors. And if you missed the fall tour this year, don’t worry. Next weekend’s outdoor Tucson Museum of Arts Holiday Craft Market is another excellent opportunity to revel in the beaux arts of Tucson. See you there.

Photographs © by Geoffrey Notkin. All rights reserved. No reproduction without written permission. Artworks pictured are © by the respective artists and reproduced with express permission.

The annual Leonid meteor shower is one of the night sky’s most exciting events. Our planet is currently passing through a debris trail left behind in space hundreds of years ago by Comet Tempel-Tuttle. As those small fragments of ice and stone hit our atmosphere at thousands of miles per hour they burn up, producing bright trails known as meteors or shooting stars. Fragments that make it to the surface of the Earth are meteorites, but the diminutive particles that generate the Leonids are too small and friable to survive their passage through our atmosphere.

Artist's impression of a meteor shower

Peak meteor activity is expected to occur between midnight and dawn tonight and into Tuesday morning. Bill Cooke of NASA’s Meteoroid Environment Office stated: “We’re predicting 20 to 30 meteors per hour over the Americas.”

The Leonids take their name from Leo, due to an optical illusion that sometimes make it appear as if they emanate from that constellation.

Tucson’s dark skies are ideal viewing for meteor showers, especially for night owls who are happy to stay up into the wee hours. If you’re so inclined, turn off the house lights, mix up some hot chocolate or a favorite tipple, head outside after midnight, park yourself in a spot with an unobstructed view of the heavens and see what transpires. It may be a memorable celestial show.

I know, silly question. Patrick McGoohan’s masterful, provocative, and visionary series from 1967 will hopefully always be one of the benchmarks against which great television (and social commentary) is measured. Phrases like “Who is Number One?” and “I am not a number, I am a free man,” have percolated into the collective consciousness, and almost everyone who had a TV in the ’60s or ’70s remembers “that show with the howling white balloon chasing the guy on the beach.”

End title logo from the original "Prisoner" televion show. © ITC

With AMC’s Prisoner “interpretation” making it’s debut tomorrow, and being billed (by AMC) as “the television event of the year,” the real question should probably be: “Why bother remaking one of the finest programs of all time?” While you’re at it, why not remake Casablanca as a hip-hop musical? Actor James Caviezel, perhaps best known for his leading role in The Passion of the Christ, has the biggest of shoes to fill, but roles as contradictory as Jesus Christ and Number Six do, I suppose, make for an impressive resume.

The Village flag flying over Portmeirion

To say I am a Prisoner fan is a bit like saying War and Peace is a large tome. At the risk of coming off as some sort of crazed fandom nerd, I will admit that I have many times journeyed to Portmeirion. The mystifying primary location for the 1967 Prisoner, Portmeirion was the life’s work of brilliant Welsh architect, town planner and conservationist Clough Williams-Ellis. Clough had a penchant for saving, as he called them, “fallen buildings” (he meant “fallen from grace,” not necessarily “fallen down,” though he did purchase the occasional pile of rubble and resurrect the original structure in all its glory). During the first half of the Twentieth Century, Clough rescued interesting or architecturally beautiful structures from various parts of Europe and relocated them to an isolated and strikingly lovely peninsula in north Wales. He was a man who really loved his work.

Portmeirion is, today, a rather chic and exclusive hotel complex. It is “listed” as a protected site of architectural and historic importance and is preserved pretty much exactly as it appeared in the original show. When you drive down that long, winding, tree-lined road, and pass under a pair of arched and pastel-colored Georgian residences, you cannot help but feel that you are entering the actual Village. It is thrilling and more than a little freaky. Six of One, the official Prisoner appreciation society, used to book the entire “town” of Portmeirion for one week each year and stage a dazzling Prisoner convention, complete with scene reenactments, most notably the human chess game. I attended several times and it was an extraordinary experience, almost as if the Prisoner was real.

The Logical Lizard (center in captain's hat) participating in the human chess game at the "Prisoner" convention 1988 in Portmeirion

The black-and-white action series Danger Man (Secret Agent in the USA) was McGoohan’s precursor to the Prisoner, and Portmeirion was used several times as an “exotic location” in that series; one time even standing in for a Mediterranean seaside town. The idea for the Prisoner must have been brewing in McGoohan’s questing mind during those days, as there are a number thematic similarities between the earlier series and his 1967 masterpiece—notably the chilling Danger Man episode “Colony Three.” British TV impresario Lord Grade of ITC Entertainment believed in McGoohan and trusted him enough to take huge a gamble: Grade funded 17 expensive, complicated, feature film-quality episodes of the sometimes incomprehensible but always engrossing Prisoner. McGoohan chose Portmeirion as the main shooting location for his finest work and it’s rather wonderful that you can visit the place today and experience its beauty, magic, and strangeness just as the cast and crew did back in 1967.

Members of Six of One, the official Prisoner appreciation society, re-enact the election scene from the "Free For All" episode of the original "Prisoner"

So, back to the important question: Why remake one of the most unique and memorable works ever to grace a television set? To give a modern take on a classic show (not likely, the Prisoner is timeless)? Because they can? To make it more accessible (read: easier to understand) for contemporary short-attention-span audiences? For the money? Can’t think of a good new story idea? It doesn’t really matter. I’ll be honest and say I am genuinely looking forward to seeing what they’ve done with my all-time favorite TV series, and I’ll be tuning in on Sunday evening with an open mind, albeit prepared, as best I can be, for a barrage of commercials during the broadcast.

I find Caviezel an odd choice to play the indefatigable, confident, autonomous and almost rabidly independent Number Six, but maybe we’ll be surprised and like him, just like one day maybe we’ll actually understand what happened in “Fall Out,” the final episode of the original. In the plus column, the great Ian McKellan is playing Number Two and that alone has to be worth watching. And, as journalist Scott White noted in the Canadian Press: “The new six-part miniseries is a chance for a whole new generation of viewers to discover the original show.” That has to be a good thing any way you cut it.

All 17 episodes of the 1967 Prisoner are available online at amctv.com but they should really be seen in their full and almost cinematic grandeur, so if you’ve never experienced the original, do yourself a favor and get it on DVD.

Be seeing you.

Photographs © by Geoffrey Notkin. All rights reserved. No reproduction without written permission.

Now that hot weather is only a thing of memory, and all of us art-loving desert rats begin to shake off that summer siesta mindset we suddenly notice that Tucson’s events calendar has become very full, seemingly overnight. Tomorrow and Sunday, and hard on the heels of last weekend’s splendid All Souls Procession, comes the fall Open Studio Tour, organized by the Tucson Pima Arts Council.

The fall Open Studio Tour is one of the highlights of the year and, as usual, TPAC has produced an informative and comprehensive guide to the event. On their website you can view an alphabetical listing of participating artists, download a guide in PDF, or else pick up a complimentary printed map/guide/calendar in person at any of the participating studios.

"Surprise." Photograph by and © Suzanne Morrison.

This year my great friends Lisa Marie and Suzanne Morrison are on the tour for the first time. The sisters are both colleagues and associates of mine and I am a fan of their work. Lisa Marie, the owner of Sirocco Design, is a brilliant silversmith and jeweler and her handmade silver creations are unique, fun and thoughtful in their execution. Suzanne works for my company Aerolite Meteorites as a studio and science photographer and is an accomplished fine art photographer in her own right. She is also the owner of Backcountry Photography and just returned from several weeks on the road working as location photographer for my TV series Meteorite Men. In addition to fine art prints and intriguing silver jewelry, the Morrisons will be offering a selection of handmade clasps, bead strands, findings and pendants, gems, and rock and mineral specimens from around the world at wholesale prices. Two Tucson originals, you can visit both of them Saturday and Sunday at 404 South Cherry (two blocks west of Campbell; three blocks south of Broadway and convenient to all Downtown studios) from 11 am to 5 pm. Oh, and there will be wine!

Lisa Marie and her muse, Vegas Jane, in the Sirocco workshop. Photograph by Stu Jenks.

In June, I profiled visionary photographer Stu Jenks here in The Logical Lizard. In addition to being one of the Southwest’s most gifted and spiritual artists, Stu is a remarkable ambient musician. He’s a fine storyteller too and is sure to make you feel welcome. See Stu’s latest work at the Old Arts District Studios, 549 North 7th Avenue, including some lovely framed pieces bargain-priced at under $200, along with advance copies of his new publication Hoop Dancing: Book Two. Please note: Stu was a last-minute addition to the tour and is not listed in the official guide but he’ll be there live and in person Saturday and Sunday.

"Cradle Rocks." Photograph by and © Stu Jenks.

Another local favorite of mine is Molly of Molly Phoenix Glassworks (I have a Molly Phoenix glass spaceship hanging over my bar). This year, The Silver Palate cookbook inspired her and visiting artist Marion Chubon to prepare “light fare and warm libations to keep you going.” Molly designs and builds a delightful line of stained glass artwork, ideal for gifts or for decorating your sunny Tucson retreat. She writes: “It is uncommon for me to have visitors in my studio. It is one of those sacred places where magical things happen . . . The sun provides warmth and rainbows when it passes through the prisms in the west facing window. If there was room for a comfy chair you can guarantee there would be one in the corner with a half full cup of coffee next to it with a pencil or two hiding under the cushion. This weekend it will be wonderful to share this with you.” Find her at 1315 North 5th Avenue (look for signs near 5th Ave & Speedway, and Stone & Drachman).

And that quick intro covers just a handful of local talents I know and like, out of over 160 working artists who will be opening up their personal studios and workspaces this weekend. Many offer snacks and drinks, along with great deals when you buy artwork directly from them during the tour. Get outside, enjoy the moody fall weather, see some original work, visit a studio, immerse yourself in our kooky and vibrant arts scene. And, if you can afford it, please help support a struggling local artist by purchasing something totally Tucson. Times are really tough for many of our most talented.

Yesterday afternoon I walked into a prominent Tucson framing store to pick up some artwork. I was immediately assaulted by a dippy version of “It’s A Jingly Jangly Jolly Holy Holly Santa Sleigh Ride” or some such. Really awful it was. I barrelled straight up to the counter and barked at the salesman: “You are not playing Christmas music on November 11!”

“They started playing it on October 31st, mate,” he replied. “How do you think I feel? I’m going completely mad.” Yes, he was very funny charming and—like me—not originally from around here. We went on to commiserate about the cheesy and repetitive Christmas songs and I realized that, much as this tacky fodder is irritating to shoppers, it must be soul destroying for the store employees who have to exist with it 24/7 during the run-up to our country’s most blatantly corporate-sponsored holiday.

Edvard Munch's "The Scream" may have been based on a shopper's pre-Christmas listening experience. National Gallery, Oslo. Public domain image.

I discussed this matter with a friend yesterday evening, and her professional opinion as a wordly Tucsonan and bon vivant is that it’s acceptable to begin with the Elvis Christmas songs on November 15, and then gradually degenerate down to the sappiest and most obnoxious material by December. From the sublime to the ridiculous.

Wiser people than I have noted that the piranha-like pre-Christmas commercial feeding frenzy begins earlier each year. Store managers used to patiently hold their breath until the day after Thanksgiving before unleashing their sleigh bells and reindeer playlists (particularly absurd lyrical content here in the desert). Now the dreaded debut has been moved up to early November. That means we are forced, while attempting to complete our normal, civilian, non-Christmas shopping tasks to endure mind-numbing ditties for seven weeks out of the year.

I predict that next year the store managers who are hungriest to cash in on what was once a happy family-based religious event will start up with the nonsense in mid-September. Within a decade the need to maximize pre-Christmas profit will mean we are required to listen to pop pap year-round. Laughing and drinking will be banned and if you don’t sport a colorful Santa and the reindeers magnet on the back of your car, you may be rounded up by the Department of Homeland Security for anti-social and un-American behavior.

It truly is the Nightmare Before Christmas.

Back in June I wrote a piece about Lynx rufus, the magnificent Sonoran lynx affectionately known in these parts as the bobcat. And that’s a little confusing because there are eleven different subspecies of wild cats in North America that go by the title of bobcat, including the rather wonderfully named Lynx fasciatus (British Columbia) and Lynx superiorensis (Northwest and Central US).

As a confirmed cat person I have been, for several years, delighted and thrilled by occasional visits to my small desert kingdom by a solitary, wary and very beautiful adult Lynx rufus. He periodically made a tasty lunch out of one of my mourning doves, but I couldn’t really be mad at him as that is the way of life in the wilds.

Recently, while preparing a tasty vegetarian breakfast I looked out my kitchen window to see a bobcat cub frolicking in my fountain. About the size of a house cat, he already had the distinctive glaring eyes and radiant stripes of the desert lynx. I tried to snap a few photos, but he scampered off into the sea of cactus and agave.

The very next morning the cub returned with two siblings and, a little later, his cautious and protective mom. This time, I had no trouble capturing them on camera. The cats just moved right in and made themselves at home: splashing in the fountain, dozing under a mesquite, and climbing like goofy monkeys on a large prickly pear tree that used to stand on the east side of my house. I say “used to” because the diminutive hunting cats had so much fun on the tree they broke off its largest limb. It crashed to the ground and quickly became fodder for javelinas and desert hares.

Some mornings, the four cats walked brazenly onto my patio, scaring the daylights out of my indoor house cat, whose tail fluffed up like a busby—the black, bushy hats worn by the Queen’s Coldstream Guards at Buckingham Palace in my old hometown of London. One of the inquisitive cubs came right up to the sliding door, curious enough about what was going on inside the Logical Lizard’s abode to bump his feline nose on the glass.

Bobcats cover a lot of ground when they’re in the mood, and the family has sadly moved on. I hope mom brings me a new litter next year. They were the most illustrious visitors I’ve had in some time.

Photographs © by Geoffrey Notkin. All rights reserved. No reproduction without written permission.

I was, for many years, actively involved with the Burning Man arts and counter culture festival that takes over Nevada’s Black Rock Desert each year around the Labor Day weekend. I was lucky enough to make my first visit back in 1997 when it was still relatively small and you could actually walk around and see everything. I went on to be a founder member of the Burning Man New York local chapter, and returned to Burning Man in 1998 and 2000. After that I was done. In ‘97 there were less than 10,000 attendees. That number has now swelled to 50,000 and bigger isn’t always better.

Burning Man 1998. Black Rock Desert, Nevada

Going to Burning Man is an extraordinary, life changing journey, but it finally got too vast and crowded for me. The art installations and theme camps began—at least in my experience—to be eclipsed by partiers, gawkers and all-night desert raves; the creative elements that are the heart of Burning Man were, to a degree, marginalized.

And now, sadly but I suppose inevitably, our annual All Souls Procession is facing similar hurdles. All Souls is our city’s most fantastic and dazzling event of the year. Read my earlier pieces for TC.com, “It All Started with All Souls” and “All Souls is Tucson’s Night of Nights,” and you will appreciate how much I adore this vibrant spectacle. However, success does come with a price.

Tucson silversmith Lisa Marie of Sirocco Design helps friends with their makeup before the 2009 All Souls Procession

Last night I attended my sixth consecutive All Souls parade, and I don’t just show up with a camera. I walk the walk. I also work on costumes and masks so I can make my own small visual contribution to the parade. Yesterday’s procession was staggering in its size. So many people marched, and there were so many floats and giant puppets that Fourth Avenue was nearly choked, and several times the parade came to a complete standstill. Sidewalks were packed with spectators all the way from University and Fourth to the loading docks across from Toole. And this is what I mean by the phrase “Burning Man Problem.” When an arts event is so exciting and intoxicating that it attracts an ever-growing number of participants and spectators, it faces the possibility of getting so big that it loses touch with the very thing that made it fabulous in the first place. When a unique, cutting-edge, local event grows to titanic proportions, is it possible to remain true to its original vision? I think it is, and I have a suggestion:

Local artists Jewels and Ismist with their spectacular 13-foot float honoring Shirley who passed away earlier this year

If you want to watch the parade, then watch the parade from the sidelines. If you want to be a participant, then really be a participant. A rough estimate—based on not very much but walking the length of the parade a few times, and prepared quickly in my somewhat addled brain—told me that at least one in four people walking with the procession were in ordinary house clothes and not bringing anything to it but their bodies. I fully appreciate that All Souls is not only an arts event, but also a spiritual event in which many mark the loss of loved ones during the previous year. As such, of course, it should be open to all. But—and this is a big but—many participants spend weeks or months building marvelous floats and designing elaborate costumes and masks. Out of respect for those who have given up time and money to make something beautiful or scary to bring to All Souls, I propose that marchers either dress up or stand aside. A spectacle like All Souls is only as good as its participants and I’d hate to see it populated by thousands of people shambling down Fourth Avenue in t-shirts and blue jeans. Really, what is the point of mystical parade in which people don’t wear something special?

Tucson fire troupe Flam Chen upped the ante with a particularly dazzling show during the 2009 All Souls finale

Thanks are due to the Many Mouths One Stomach volunteers who devote so much time and energy to making All Souls live, and to the Tucson Police Department, who once again managed the large and excitable crowd with courtesy and patience. And finally, it is important to remember that you live in an arts-friendly community in which a giant flaming cauldron is hoisted into the air by a crane, over a crowd of thousands, on a Sunday night. I really cannot think of another city in the country that would even consider allowing such a wonderful thing (San Francisco banned the original Burning Man from Baker Beach because it got too big).

All Souls is still the greatest, but let’s not lose sight of what makes it great. See you in front of Epic Cafe next year, and please, think about wearing a costume.

Photographs © by Geoffrey Notkin. All rights reserved. No reproduction without written permission.

While our fine city enjoys international fame as host of the annual Tucson gem and mineral shows (and you’ll be hearing plenty about that from me during January and February), tonight is the night that the Old Pueblo is truly at its finest and strangest. The All Souls Procession—Tucson’s hip, weirdo, eclectic, inexplicable and sometimes cutting-edge arts scene’s retrofitted take on Day of the Dead—is the most exciting, inspiring and magical event of the year.

All Souls is already well known to many of you, I’m sure, but I am delighted that this year two of my friends will be experiencing their first procession. If you’ve never seen it, turn off the TV and get yourself downtown by 6 pm. You will not be disappointed. If you’ve watched as a spectator, but never participated, throw on some black and white face paint, don a costume or mask, revel in the ritual, and spare a moment for the memory of a loved one who has moved on to the next world (or whatever you believe in) during the past year.

With local media director, rock star, and bon vivant Caroline Palmer during the 2008 procession

One of my happy annual tasks is designing and building an elaborate mask to wear during the procession. Last year I wore a Hopi-inspired sun god and it was my best-ever effort. I had grand plans for this year—a giant gila monster faceplate was the winning idea—but, alas, the previous two months have been entirely filled by on-the-road adventures filming the new season of my television adventure series Meteorite Men. As such, there was no time to create something new for the 2009 parade. And that, dear readers, also explains why I have been absent from TC.com, lo these many weeks. I missed you, but I am back, and just in time for my favorite, favorite event of the year.

The mighty Flam Chen tear it up during the grand finale to the 2007 All Souls Procession. Photo by Geoffrey Notkin.

I’ll be on Fourth Avenue this evening, likely more than a little fired up, looking forward to bounding through the Fourth Avenue underpass in the company of drummers, dancers, and walking skeletons, watching fire troupe Flam Chen do their amazing thing at the loading docks, and I am hearing rumors of a surprise appearance by Calexico. I hope to see you down there, and I’ll be seeing you here tomorrow as well. I have more than a few tales to tell about life on the road with the Meteorite Men.

Learn more about Tucson’s All Souls Procession

Sometime last year, my co-host Steve Arnold and I had a most interesting conversation with LMNO Productions owner, and our Executive Producer, Eric Schotz. He told us that if he was developing a show about, for example, an emergency room, or armed forces veterans returning from overseas, there would be a number of options; a number of different people to interview and work with. “But I can’t go out and get two other guys who do what you do. The show is about you.” So, no pressure.

But really, I am joking. It is an honor and a privilege to find yourself in a situation where major companies have put a great deal of money, time and effort into making a rather unique adventure series about you and your buddy. Steve had me laughing the other day when he said: “I want our show to be the best meteorite hunting program on television!” It is a most unusual topic for a series, but I do know one thing: wherever I go and whatever kind of people I meet there seems to be a universal fascination with our rather odd profession: “Really? You look for meteorites. You mean, like shooting stars?”

The Logical Lizard (left) and professional meteorite hunter Steve Arnold scouting locations for the new "Meteorite Men" TV series. Photograph by Margaret Haddad.

The fact that our work is so unusual and specialized means we are actively involved in nearly every aspect of pre-production: locations, equipment, wardrobe, logistics, scheduling. We even have the pleasure of inviting some favorite academics to appear on the show with us. We are airing on the Science Channel, so Meteorite Men has to be a lot more than just an adventure series. It’s a good mix: Steve and I go out to the wild places, test new gear, develop hunting techniques, do our research, hike, dig, meet weird and colorful characters along the way, and when each adventure draws to a close we head to a lab or university to meet with one of our colleagues in academia. Will any of our finds help shed light on the mysteries of the universe? Well, maybe not every episode, but each fragment of new knowledge is a piece in the puzzle, and it doesn’t hurt to dream.

And anyway, Steve feels people are tuning in to be entertained, not to have the spotlight of universal understanding turned upon them. We’ll figure it out.