Let me tell you about this weird thing that happened last weekend.

I made a sign.

Well, “made” is a generous word for what actually happened.

I had an idea,

some supplies, and

a limited amount of time.

I used black paint to repurpose a canvas I’d painted on.

One layer of black paint. I put a fan on it to dry faster.

Second layer of black paint. I put the fan on it, waited until the paint was tacky, and sprayed glitter on the canvas. Let dry.

I painted gold on all four edges of the black canvas. Let dry.

I then took white paint and drew RIP TIM CURRY to give myself a guide for what came next.

I took glue that I use for press-on nails and put a line of glue along the painted RIP TIM CURRY lines, one by one.

I then took small tweezers and placed various sizes of clear rhinestones along the words.

Time was ticking. I had to get ready for the show in Olympia that night.

It wasn’t finished. I knew it wasn’t finished.

There were little imperfections and things I still wanted to fix.

I wanted to add more rhinestones to make it pop more.

I wanted enough rhinestones to really cover the paint lines.

If you know me, you know I can get caught up in wanting a creative project to look the way it does in my head.

But there was a show in a few hours, and I wanted to bring this damn sign.

So, I brought the imperfect sign.

We decided to put it up on the merch table.

PEOPLE LOVED IT!

They complimented it. Asked who made it.

Somewhere along the way, we decided the sign would come with us to every show from now on. At least for now.

My little rush job was going on tour!

Even my director noticed and said something to me.

I don’t know why that means so much, except that sometimes you make something because you have an idea.

You put it out into the world without knowing whether anyone else will care.

Then someone notices.

Someone appreciates the effort.

Something you made becomes part of something bigger than yourself.

Suddenly, the unfinished thing you almost didn’t bring is exactly where it belongs.

There is, of course, a more serious reason for the sign.

Tim Curry’s death has hit the Rocky Horror community hard.

His portrayal of Dr. Frank-N-Furter helped create a character and a cultural phenomenon that have lived far beyond the original film.

For so many of us, The Rocky Horror Picture Show isn’t just a movie.

It’s a shared language.

It’s a place to be weird, to be loud, to be theatrical, to be a little outrageous, and to be authentically yourself.

It’s a place to find other people who understand why any of that matters.

It’s the kind of thing that brings strangers together in a dark theater, where we dress up, shout at a screen, perform onstage, and make memories with people we might never have met otherwise.

Now, we’re carrying a little tribute to Tim Curry with us.

It’s not an elaborate memorial.

It’s not some grand artistic statement.

It’s almost kind of ugly.

It’s a black sign with rhinestones and red lips, made in a hurry by someone who just wanted to contribute something.

I guess that’s what I love about it.

Grief doesn’t always arrive as a grand gesture.

Sometimes it’s a conversation, or a photograph, or a story someone tells about a person who mattered.

Sometimes it’s showing up to a place you love and finding that other people are feeling the loss, too.

Sometimes it’s making something with your hands because you need somewhere to put all those feelings.

I spend a lot of time creating things.

I write poetry. I write essays.

I put costumes together and add rhinestones to things that probably don’t need them.

I perform, and I make things for the community I’m lucky enough to be a part of.

Sometimes, I wonder whether the things I make matter to anyone besides me.

I think anyone who’s a creative artist and puts their work into the world knows that familiar feeling.

You make something, you share it, and then you wait.

You wonder if anyone saw it.

If it meant anything.

If it made anyone smile, or think, or feel.

I think the sign reminded me that creative work doesn’t have to be perfect to matter.

It doesn’t have to be finished to be worth sharing.

It doesn’t have to be something that you sell, publish, or receive applause for to become meaningful.

It just has to exist.

It just has to show up.

My little rhinestone sign is going to sit on the merch table at our shows.

The audience who shows up will see it.

Maybe they’ll smile.

Maybe they’ll think about Tim Curry and the legacy he gave us.

Maybe they will remember a show they attended, their favorite character, or the first time they discovered a strange movie that made them feel like they belonged somewhere.

I’ll know I made it.

I’ll remember that I almost didn’t bring it because it wasn’t finished.

Funny, huh?

We spend so much time waiting until we’re ready.

Waiting until our work is polished enough.

Waiting until we feel confident enough to let someone see what we’ve made.

We convince ourselves that the unfinished parts are reasons to keep things to ourselves.

I think the imperfect things are the things that connect us.

Maybe a few rhinestones and a repurposed black canvas are enough.

So, here’s to Tim Curry.

To the strange and wonderful world of Rocky Horror.

To the people who make things with their hearts and their hands.

To all the unfinished little creations we put into the world anyway.

May we keep making things.

May we keep showing up.

And may we never underestimate the power of a few rhinestones.