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| 4-D tarantula model sold by John N. Hansen Co. Inc. |
I should probably mention why I chose to make spiders for 365 days. It's no mystery why I committed to a 365-day project...but spiders? I gotta say, it really doesn't make a lot of sense. I won't touch a spider unless it's super itty bitty. And I discovered this weekend, after leafing through my friend Jenni's spider book, that I'm absolutely disgusted by the innards of the little beasties. I mean, GROSS! Heads and guts and...please don't make me relive that experience. I didn't know I'd be so grossed out by the sight of illustrated arachnids. They're practically cartoons, for crying out loud! So I really have to question the
meaning of this project. The only reason I can come up with for wanting to make spiders is that the organized, anal-retentive side of me really appreciates the symmetry of a spider. One side is like the other. If I adjust the legs just right, I'm practically mimicking the real thing (you know, except for my own mad-scientist additions like resin Spam pendants and pincushions). And I think that's pretty much it. I mean, look at this picture of a 4-D tarantula I found while Googling X rays of spiders. Doesn't it rude you out? You can actually buy a spider and remove its little plastic guts and body parts, then reassemble it. I'm sorry you had to see that.
But here's something more reassuring. I'm not the only spider-art freak out there. My mom snapped this picture of a welded spider (about 1 square foot) in a Minnesota shop. She said it was heavy, so it was probably iron. And the legs are made of large drill bits. See? How cool is that? I salute you, spider artist...whoever you are.
So get ready for the continual creep fest that is my daily spider. I promise that I
will creep you out eventually, if you aren't already. Tomorrow is another day.
