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Another of the Phoenix contest cutups, Amy Bowersox, fasioned a dog.
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Sue Kane and Bill Kummer, who work at the library, provided plenty of ambience: They taped up several glossy, lovingly photographed pictures of Spam recipes around the room (some more appetizing than others). They also set up a boombox, loaded in Monty Python's Spam Song and programmed it for endless repeat. (Happily, they shut it off before the contest started, because hearing the song again and again would render anyone incapable of creating anything from Spam but a murder weapon.)
I arrived early, so as to size up the competition. I expected a lot from Colleen Asay, of Phoenix, who came quip-equipped.
"It's ham that flunked its physical," she said. "That's what my grandmother always said." Then she held up the can and mused about the ingredients. "As they said in Chicago stockyards — everything but the squeal."
Nevertheless, she had that very morning prepared her son a breakfast of eggs, toast and Spam. Fried, of course.
"Frying redeems it," she said. "When it just sits there, quivering on the plate, it's kind of frightening."
Dale Novak would be tough, as well. Not only did he arrive wearing a Spam T-shirt, he also toted a television-size soft-sculpture of a can of Spam he created in college, complete with the little key on the bottom that once was used to open the product.
What's worse, Novak had actually practiced.
When the one-hour contest kicked off, 10 of us had entered. I knew that I couldn't actually carve anything recognizable — my greatest artistic achievement was the time in high school when I hit a moving car with an egg — so I tried to rely on limited work and a clever title. I cut the Spam in half, sliced off the corners of one rectangle and squished it a bit, trying to round it into a ball.
Then, using thin strips, I made fingers, attached them to a hunk that was supposed to be a hand and draped them over the ball, which I had balanced on the lip of the empty can. I added an arm (which was tough — even with toothpicks to secure it, it kept falling off) and voila! Spam Dunk.
Dale Novak captures his masterpiece, "Spamalot," on film. "I guess practice helps," the 32-year-old Phoenix
resident said.
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Meanwhile, some actual talent was being displayed elsewhere. Asay, for instance, used an ordinary kitchen knife to shave away tiny bits of Spam until she had sculpted what appeared to be a real rabbit — albeit a small one, with all the fur removed. Still, it was impressive, although she deflected my praise.
"Have you ever made a radish rose?" she asked, as if this was something someone who has devoted a lot of his life to lying on the couch watching sports on television might do in his spare time. No, I replied.
"Well that explains it," she said, and continued.
Five-year-old Jenessa Lancaster, of Phoenix, whittled away at what would become Dog Going Home. (At one point her entry included a pile of leftover Spam underneath, which she planned to call Dog Going Pottie, but she thought better of it.)
Not one to waste anything, after she finished sculpting, Jenessa looked up at her parents and said, "Can I eat some now, Mom?"
Novak busied himself with Spamalot, a tiny Spam castle, complete with a drawbridge. It looked like an actual castle, the only exceptions being that it was made of Spam and fit on a paper plate. Once you saw this, there wasn't much question who the winner would be.
Indeed, Novak won first place — and another Spam T-shirt — and Asay took second.
"I guess practice helps," Novak said after his win. "After years of being a Spam enthusiast, it finally pays off."
For my part, Spam Dunk netted fourth place. Not bad, considering that I possess the innate artistic talent of a garbage disposal.
There will be another contest next year, Kane said, and I recommend entering. It's fun, it's goofy and it's more challenging than you might think. Besides, where else is it OK to play with your food?
Think of it as your patriotic duty.
Bill Goodykoontz can be reached at 271-8828, or at bill.goodykoontz@pni.com on the internet.
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