Probably not the sort of sentence one gets to write terribly often, so I think it's worth repeating. Bonnie made too many sheep.
As I understand it, in the process of building a nativity scene Bonnie went a little overboard on the sheep. She made entire flocks. Prior to slaying Goliath, David didn't tend this many sheep. There were lots and lots of sheep. More sheep than a chronic insomniac could hope to count. Okay, maybe I'm beginning to exaggerate slightly, but seriously, there were a lot of sheep.
Then, of course, after Christmas you have to figure out what to do with all the sheep. Bonnie's solution was to give them away. She took photos of all the sheep (imagine this as a sort of cross between passport photos and mugshots) and then passed the contact sheets around among various friends and invited everyone to choose one. Three or four contact sheets, sixteen or twenty photos per page, three or four animals per photo--LOTS of choices!
By the time I saw the photos, several of the little creatures had already been adopted. I must admit, I was more strongly inclined to choose a sheep of color. The white ones were fluffy and cute, but the black and grey and mud colored animals just seemed more interesting. Then I saw the goats. If the black sheep, with all of its cultural implications was tempting, the goat and its biblical import was an even greater lure. Oh, did I like the goats? I could choose a goat if I liked. Or an angel; there are angels, too. Everytime I decided that I really liked the texture of this one, I'd notice the horns on that one and change my mind. Then I'd see this one over here had a fabulous tilt to it's head, only to find that the one in the next photo had so much character! (When I reread this while editing I got a chuckle at the image of horned angels, but decided you'd appreciate the image also, so I left it.)
If you're having trouble understanding why it was so difficult to just pick a sheep and say, "Thank you, Bonnie" and get on with my life, you should know that Bonnie taught animation for several years. And although I met her through singing, I don't think there is any artistic expression she hasn't put her hand to at some point. Being presented with photographic vignettes, pictorial essays of ovine social structures, made it almost impossible to select a single example of her work. Choosing any one meant breaking up a scene. How do you decide which single one will continue to charm you without the interplay with the one next to it. Finally, I told Bonnie I couldn't choose for myself, but, yes, please, I'd love to have one. This is the truth. Had I been forced to choose from the photos, I can almost guarantee that I'd be disappointed with my own selection and wonder endlessly if I couldn't have made a better choice.
Last Friday Bonnie came by my office to borrow my Pantone book and brought with her a selection of five sheep from which I was to choose. She brought two white sheep, two brown sheep (one medium brown, one camel-colored), and one dark grey-black sheep. While I loved the caramel colors of the camel and the mix of colors in the medium brown, they didn't convey the personality of the others and were quickly eliminated. And while I very much admired the striking looks of the darkest of the sheep, I wasn't as enamored with him in person as I had expected to be from the photos. In contrast, the white sheep which I had written off at the outset were the most engaging. They had much more depth of color than the photos indicated and their expressions were charming. My co-workers were brought in to help me make the final choice. And although I was very much taken with a fat little sheep with floppy ears and a pleading expression, my co-workers felt that that sheep was too needy for me. I suspect they think I lack in the tender depth of feeling necessary to meet the emotional needs of four-inch-tall inanimate creature. (If I worry about this too much I'll end up injured by their judgment. Crap. Now I've put it in writing and I'm sure that's what they were implying!) Anyway, they felt the fifth of Bonnie's sheep was the one meant for me, the one best suited to my temperment.
I believe there was a certain level of determination, nay belligerence, conveyed in the tilt of this little sheep's head that my co-workers believed made it a perfect match for me. Not they would ever suggest I maintain these qualities. Merely that they thought the presence of this fuzzy guardian at the gate of my workspace might invite others to think twice before inviting my attention. Hmmm...
Now we need a name for my little baby. Post your suggestions in the comments. I won't guarantee that I'll choose from the submissions, but I will agree to consider them all.
PS Bonnie is now making MORE sheep (and goats, and giraffes, and who knows what else). There's been discussion of a gallery show. Really, my photo doesn't do justice to her work, but in groups they are truly outstanding.
