The Story Begins...

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It was with a whizz and a blurp that a mysterious, mischievous but oh too curious creature flopped down on the rotted grass. The stench of trash and rotten things clung to his nose. The crash and bangs of the destruction of things rang in his ears. With bare, dirty feet, a bug or two stuck between his toes and bitten and cracked nails did he curl his fingers into the toxic dirt and peer over the cliffs just beyond Goblintown. 

 

And it was then that Goblin noticed something odd below. Flickering images of a man in many different forms. A bat, a gunslinger, a pilot and so much more. In these moments he would daydream. Using his magical whims to transform and pretend to be something else, and somewhere else, at least for a moment or two.  Whatever this place below, this Kamp Kilmer, it seemed to call out to him in words he could not ignore.

“A fun sacred space where artists and friends gather to collaborate and celebrate creativity”

Day after day Goblin came back and watched with curiosity and wonder. He had always been mischievous, and curious. Although his curiosity always came with a certain level of mayhem, chaos, and trickery, as is usual with goblins, his was of a different kind. A benevolent kind. And so his curiosity grew beyond his control. Like the rising sparks from the Kampfire it began to burn and turn into hope. Those words stirred him to action. To dare to dream and take a leap of faith. To start his quest to find his artistic soul.

 

A quite literal leap as it turned out. With a cardboard box made into a plane, a touch of magic, and a willing accomplice to toss him over, Goblin soared off the cliffs of Goblintown. The rancid sky he once knew turned to a bright clear blue as the vale of Goblintown shrank from view. 

 

RiPpp! 

ZruPppPp! 

SplAt! 

 

Suddenly the airplane fell out of the sky. A spectacular chaotic crash in technicolor of oil and acrylic tubes that covered Goblin in the sticky, icky,  colorful slimy goo. This mayhem of color and symphony of chaos had squished and splashed and caught his fall. There was no going back now. 

 

Quick like lightning, Goblin ran from the scene. He sprung through a hole in the window of a nearby cabin with three letters above the grand wooden door. V-A-L. Wonder held him still as he scanned his new hidey-hole. The magical things he saw.  Trinkets from the flickering images he had watched before.  Shelves of bits, bobs, and thing-ama-jigs crying out for creation. Artwork, both finished and just started, like windows into magical realms. Bouquets of paint brushes and treasure chests of spray cans. Painted, dirty fingers traced over bristle and canvas.

Suddenly he heard a noise. With a dash, he darted into the box of spray cans and pulled his ears down about his face. Wide-eyed he watched and silently begged for help as a man the size of an oak tree approached him. As he got closer, Goblin’s fear turned to awe. It was the man he had seen so many times in the flickering images from his perch in Goblintown. 

 

“Kamp Kilmer called out to you hmm? It does that. Don’t worry little guy. This is a magical place and all are welcome.  Here you can find your story and let it unfold through art.” 
 

Goblin stared for a moment or two before he let his ears go and spring back up. He popped his lips like a goldfish taking a moment to figure out what was happening.

“HoW dEs ArT?”

 

The great man chuckled at the curious goblin and then pointed outside to another cabin. “We will enlist others to collaborate with you. To help you along your journey and realize your artistic self. You will create one piece of work with each of them, and as you do, we will learn your story and you’ll inspire us. Start with the man behind the tree over there painting the wall. His name is Remo”

 

“WhAt me  inSpiRe bY? “Goblin asked.  

“Follow your authentic heart. Oh… And take these with you”,  encouraged the great man as he handed Goblin a couple of spray cans. “If you need me, come find me. I’m Val and… “ he paused, reached for something wrapped in cloth, and handed it to Goblin. “You might need this too.” He winked and then moved away. 

 

Goblin snatched the offered gifts and hesitated only for half a heartbeat before he was gone. Up and over Remo’s shoulder, Goblin took a welcoming seat. As they spoke, Goblin unwrapped his gift. He felt his face shift and twitch as a bright bold smile took form. A mask that represented hope from the most unlikely of places. Triumphant, justice and the courage to do what one must. Goblin tapped Remo’s temple and then stood tall on his shoulder declaring, 

“GOB-Man wᵤZ HeRe!”