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"We are addicted to story. Even when our bodies go to sleep, our minds stay up all night, telling ourselves stories." - Jonathan Gottschall

Some of us sit up nights under an itchy blanket, holding a flashlight, turning page after page, being transported into a magical new world hoping our parents won't catch us. Some of us tell fantastical tales with big hand gestures and booming voices. Others use the arc of bright red paint or golden light shining through a shutter, even the steaming crackle of oil in a pan, to tell our story. All of us have a tale to tell, most of us have more than one whether we realize it or not. And at night, all of us continue to tell stories in our dreams while we sleep.

In the summer of 2010, the idea for Museum of Make Believe wasn't conceived yet, although it was always probably there, hidden in our imaginations as a soft hum. During this time, one of our founders, Geoff Mitchell was focused on creating mixed media art and the aesthetic quest in each painting often led to a surreal, bizarre and dreamlike world of broken, altered narratives. There was glimpse into a story, almost like looking through a foggy window, making out only faint memories through a haze.

Our good friend, John Slorp, came up with the idea of creating a book that would push the narratives further by having different writers collaborate to contribute short stories which would be seen alongside the painting that inspired it. The original ghost story or fairy tale represented one unique individual's imaginative interpretation of the events unfolding within the artwork. The works of art hold limitless different tales written in the imaginations of the viewers themselves. So, the book would be just as much about what truly lies within the onlooker as it is about what lies between the pages.

John Slorp sadly passed away before completing the project. However, his vision laid the foundation and remained the guiding light. He also wrote the very first story and we wanted to share that story and the painting it accompanies below.

"Arrogance" a fairytale by John Slorp.
On hot summer days, Grandma would open a window and set pies, cakes or casseroles on the ledge to cool. One day while plucking chickens, she put her wedding ring on the ledge. Soon afterwards, a crow came to the open window. It leaned in and picked up her shiny gold ring in its beak and flew away. She was positively devastated.

Grandpa said it could be made right. He sat down at the oil spattered, yellow-checked table and produced tinfoil from a pouch of pipe tobacco. He carefully fashioned a ring that was bigger than Grandma's gold ring and set it on the same ledge the next morning. It sat there for hours glistening in the rising sun. Later that day, the silver ring was gone and the gold ring was returned. Grandpa explained that crows are often traders ... they don't always steal, sometimes they trade. Grandma was delighted and said it was more than a fair trade.

During that same late summer afternoon, she sent me and my cousin with small tin pails to the highest hill on the other side of the bull pasture to gather blackberries. Crossing that field was kind of dangerous ... if the bull was there. At least we thought it was. We would carefully search out where the bull was, squeeze under the barbed wire fence and then run like blazes to the other side. The bull on the far side of the pasture never noticed us. We were short and much too fast.

Under the fence and up the hill, we soon began to gather our berries. They were fully ripe, glossy black and plump as could be. We took turns squealing in pain because the thorns stung our fingers. And when our pails began to brim over, we set out on the trail back. It was a dusty hot day and the berries were so juicy. I ate about half of my pail before we got back to the fly-screened porch door that led to the kitchen.

Hearing the slap of the door, Grandma came out to greet us. She took our pails of berries and thanked us for gathering them. She promised to bake berry cobblers for supper that night. So we scampered away to play and soon afterward take our daily afternoon nap. Grandma always required that we take naps for fear of polio and other sicknesses.

That evening after the whole family had eaten a chicken and dumpling supper, Grandma stepped away to the kitchen to gather the cobblers sitting on top of the warm stove. We children were seated on the screened porch at our own table. She brought our cobblers to us bubbling over with caramelized sugar and with cinnamon sprinkles on top. They released a wonderful fruit scented steam that spread throughout the house.

We all shouted our thanks and at the same moment, plunged our spoons into the puffed cobbler tops. Mine collapsed. It was only crust ... there were no berries inside. The other children's lips were stained purple as they scooped up the remaining bits of cobbler. I understood it was a fair trade. I was not happy, but it was a fair lesson.

Without ever realizing it, John set us on a long wonderful path that ultimately led to the founding of the Museum of Make Believe, the beating pulse of which is stories. This year, we are continuing to go further down that path by creating a larger book titled "Ghost Stories and Fairy Tales." This book will combine all of our efforts into one volume, including original stories that accompany miniatures, puppetry, sculpture, as well as mixed media paintings. It will be available on its own or in a beautifully packaged box of make believe that will give you all of the resources to tell your own tales through hands-on projects! As part of a California Arts Council Grant, we will make fifty of these boxes to share with those in need for no cost, because we would like everyone to have access to storytelling and art. To tide you over until then, we wanted to share a few more of our original fables with you, read by the wonderful narrator and friend to the Museum, Michelle Richards. Enjoy!

"We are addicted to story. Even when our bodies go to sleep, our minds stay up all night, telling ourselves stories." - Jonathan Gottschall

Some of us sit up nights under an itchy blanket, holding a flashlight, turning page after page, being transported into a magical new world hoping our parents won't catch us. Some of us tell fantastical tales with big hand gestures and booming voices. Others use the arc of bright red paint or golden light shining through a shutter, even the steaming crackle of oil in a pan, to tell our story. All of us have a tale to tell, most of us have more than one whether we realize it or not. And at night, all of us continue to tell stories in our dreams while we sleep.

In the summer of 2010, the idea for Museum of Make Believe wasn't conceived yet, although it was always probably there, hidden in our imaginations as a soft hum. During this time, one of our founders, Geoff Mitchell was focused on creating mixed media art and the aesthetic quest in each painting often led to a surreal, bizarre and dreamlike world of broken, altered narratives. There was glimpse into a story, almost like looking through a foggy window, making out only faint memories through a haze.

Our good friend, John Slorp, came up with the idea of creating a book that would push the narratives further by having different writers collaborate to contribute short stories which would be seen alongside the painting that inspired it. The original ghost story or fairy tale represented one unique individual's imaginative interpretation of the events unfolding within the artwork. The works of art hold limitless different tales written in the imaginations of the viewers themselves. So, the book would be just as much about what truly lies within the onlooker as it is about what lies between the pages.

John Slorp sadly passed away before completing the project. However, his vision laid the foundation and remained the guiding light. He also wrote the very first story and we wanted to share that story and the painting it accompanies below.

"Arrogance" a fairytale by John Slorp.
On hot summer days, Grandma would open a window and set pies, cakes or casseroles on the ledge to cool. One day while plucking chickens, she put her wedding ring on the ledge. Soon afterwards, a crow came to the open window. It leaned in and picked up her shiny gold ring in its beak and flew away. She was positively devastated.

Grandpa said it could be made right. He sat down at the oil spattered, yellow-checked table and produced tinfoil from a pouch of pipe tobacco. He carefully fashioned a ring that was bigger than Grandma's gold ring and set it on the same ledge the next morning. It sat there for hours glistening in the rising sun. Later that day, the silver ring was gone and the gold ring was returned. Grandpa explained that crows are often traders ... they don't always steal, sometimes they trade. Grandma was delighted and said it was more than a fair trade.

During that same late summer afternoon, she sent me and my cousin with small tin pails to the highest hill on the other side of the bull pasture to gather blackberries. Crossing that field was kind of dangerous ... if the bull was there. At least we thought it was. We would carefully search out where the bull was, squeeze under the barbed wire fence and then run like blazes to the other side. The bull on the far side of the pasture never noticed us. We were short and much too fast.

Under the fence and up the hill, we soon began to gather our berries. They were fully ripe, glossy black and plump as could be. We took turns squealing in pain because the thorns stung our fingers. And when our pails began to brim over, we set out on the trail back. It was a dusty hot day and the berries were so juicy. I ate about half of my pail before we got back to the fly-screened porch door that led to the kitchen.

Hearing the slap of the door, Grandma came out to greet us. She took our pails of berries and thanked us for gathering them. She promised to bake berry cobblers for supper that night. So we scampered away to play and soon afterward take our daily afternoon nap. Grandma always required that we take naps for fear of polio and other sicknesses.

That evening after the whole family had eaten a chicken and dumpling supper, Grandma stepped away to the kitchen to gather the cobblers sitting on top of the warm stove. We children were seated on the screened porch at our own table. She brought our cobblers to us bubbling over with caramelized sugar and with cinnamon sprinkles on top. They released a wonderful fruit scented steam that spread throughout the house.

We all shouted our thanks and at the same moment, plunged our spoons into the puffed cobbler tops. Mine collapsed. It was only crust ... there were no berries inside. The other children's lips were stained purple as they scooped up the remaining bits of cobbler. I understood it was a fair trade. I was not happy, but it was a fair lesson.

Without ever realizing it, John set us on a long wonderful path that ultimately led to the founding of the Museum of Make Believe, the beating pulse of which is stories. This year, we are continuing to go further down that path by creating a larger book titled "Ghost Stories and Fairy Tales." This book will combine all of our efforts into one volume, including original stories that accompany miniatures, puppetry, sculpture, as well as mixed media paintings. It will be available on its own or in a beautifully packaged box of make believe that will give you all of the resources to tell your own tales through hands-on projects! As part of a California Arts Council Grant, we will make fifty of these boxes to share with those in need for no cost, because we would like everyone to have access to storytelling and art. To tide you over until then, we wanted to share a few more of our original fables with you, read by the wonderful narrator and friend to the Museum, Michelle Richards. Enjoy!

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Moon Rabbits : Ghost Stories & Fairy Tales - Museum of Make Believe

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Some of us sit up nights under an itchy blanket, holding a flashlight, turning page after page, being transported into a magical new world hoping our parents won't catch us. Some of us tell fantastical tales with big hand gestures and booming voices.

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