Published in TMG October 1994. Updated 30 April 1997
I sipped my white wine and nibbled some cheese and crackers while chatting with a cluster of other mystery fans at Left Coast Crime several winters ago. Across the room I noticed a woman facing away from us and across the back of her sweatshirt I read " Books Are My Life." My sentiments exactly, I thought. She turned our direction and across her chest were colorful depiction's of half a dozen mystery books, the spines standing upright as if on a shelf.
"Great sweatshirt!" I called out.
"Thanks." She smiled and joined our group.
"I love it. Where did you get it?" I asked. Whatever the cost, I had to have a sweatshirt like hers.
"I made it...sort of. I wear it at work all the time." She went on to explain that she was a librarian. The sweatshirt front was an advertisement for a book store. Not wanting to appear disloyal to the library, she had used fabric paints to cover up the name of the store with titles of some of her favorite mystery authors. As we continued to chat, I studied the images on the front of her sweatshirt. I could do this, I thought. I can paint. I painted my bedroom not long ago. How difficult could it be?
The following weekend I took a trip to the local craft store. The place was filled with everything from seasonal decorations, silk and dried flowers, needlework supplies, ribbon, doll parts and of course, a wide selection of T-shirts and sweatshirts-- blank canvasses for the body, ready to paint. "It's got to be a sweatshirt," the librarian had said. "T-shirts are too thin. Not as suitable. The paint bleeds through." Heeding her advice, I selected an extra large, black sweatshirt. The sweatshirt had some limitations, however--I needed cool conditions to wear it.
After wandering the long aisles, I finally located the paint section. I was faced with some agonizing decisions. Do I use dimensional opalescent? High Gloss? Matte? And the colors--so many to choose from. There were numerous shades of red alone: Cherry Royale, Brick, Wild Berry, Holly. I finally settled for a half a dozen acrylic colors for less than a dollar each from the bargain table, and a bottle of some translucent looking stuff called fabric paint medium. "Turns regular acrylic paints into washable, color-fast fabric paint." I got out of there for less than $25.00 and sped home, eager to start my project. I wanted to finish in time to make a literary fashion statement at the next Sisters in Crime meeting the coming weekend. I crossed my fingers, hoped for chilly temperatures, and spread out my supplies on the kitchen table.
Now, what about my design? I stood before my bookcase full of mysteries. More agonizing choices. There was only room on the front of my shirt for five or six books. Which book jackets would I depict? Choose my six all-time favorite reads to spread across my chest? Impossible, I have too many favorites. It would take a canvass as large as Christo's to include them all. I must consider another approach.
Okay, the sweatshirt is black, therefore the book in my hand wouldn't work. Color must be the important element. This cover was black and it would be invisible on the sweatshirt. With a twinge of guilt, I slid the book back on the shelf. Another of my favorites had fluffy clouds and a car on the cover. No, too detailed to paint. I chewed the inside corner of my cheek and returned it to the bookcase, but gave the book a little reassuring pat. I would make it up to the author by buying her next book in hardcover.
I grabbed more books from my library and arranged them side by side, I shuffled, re-shuffled, and studied the bouquet of books before me. No, still not quite right. Some were returned, then two more pulled out and added to the tableau. I straightened my shoulders, made a painful decision to go with selections in front of me. It was a biblio still life with a suitable blend of vibrant shades and enough pastel hues for contrast. I settled on a peacock blue with James Lee Burke's, A Morning for Flamingos. Alongside it stood the soft aqua of Sue Dunlap's Rogue Wave. The metallic copper and turquoise of Tony Hillerman's Coyote Waits teamed up nicely with Sarah Shankmans's First Kill All the Lawyers, which was done in a deep plum with striking blue lettering. I could not leave out Sara Paretsky. Her hot yellow Burn Marks was just the right touch. The shiny black and bright red letters of the title added some punch and zip to the composition.
Next, I stood the books upright in front of me
as models and sketched an outline on the fabric with tailors chalk. I mixed
my colors on a paper plate palette and painted on the background color for
the spine of each book. It was a bit tricky keeping the lines straight and
smoothing out the specks and globs of paint that tended to gather in the
corners, but an hour or two later (much longer than I expected) the background
color was complete.
The lettering was next. I squeezed out more drops of paint on my makeshift palette, but suddenly realized I couldn't proceed. The first coat wasn't dry yet. I had no time to waste waiting for the paint to dry, and I decided to speed things up with my hair dryer. The hair dryer did the trick.
The lettering was tedious work. This wasn't at all like painting my bedroom. My hand began to cramp and I switched brushes three times before I found one that worked. It took another couple of hours to finish the job and add the final touches. Again, I used the trusty hair dryer to make sure the previous title was dry and unsmearable before going on to the next book.
I stood back to admire my masterpiece. Beautiful, but what about a catchy phrase for the back? I could not plagiarize "Books Are My Life" It belonged to the librarian. "So many books, so little time" was nice but it was too many words. It would take too long to paint. "Life is a mystery." That was it. Nice and short. I got out my letter stencils, mixed up an appealing lavender, and finished up in less than fifteen minutes.
My completed creation hung on a hangar on the back
of the kitchen door. As I fixed dinner, I admired my handiwork. Studying
it some more that evening, it occurred to me that something was missing.
It wasn't finished yet. The thought tickled the back of my mind as I watched
television. Ten minutes into "NYPD Blue", I switched off the TV.
It was a repeat anyway, and an episode in which everyone kept their clothes
on.
Spreading the sweatshirt face down on the kitchen table, I grabbed the glossy, blood red paint and quickly inserted "a good" just before "mystery". I put my brush down. Perfect! I spoke the essence of the phrase softly to myself, "Life is a mystery...a good mystery." Yes, I had a treasure--an original work of art--one-of-a-kind.
Sunday morning I sipped my first cup of coffee and thought about the Sisters in Crime meeting that afternoon. Some local authors would read and discuss their writing. Their books would, of course, be for sale. With cash and credit card in my wallet, I would be ready.
As I stepped outside to get the morning paper I took a deep breath. The air was cool and damp, and the sky looked forbidding and gray. It was exactly what I was hoping for--sweatshirt weather.
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