Cheap elves in short supply for holidays

First, he wrestled with the tackiness factor.

Then, he wrestled with the wording.

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HOLLY CRENSHAW/hcrenshaw@ajc.com

In this ad, photographer Dane Sponberg seeks a pint-size model for a Christmas shot.

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Courtesy of Dane Sponberg /Handout

Sponberg and his faithful dog, Jerry, pose as the Grinch and his pitiful pet for last year’s Christmas card. This difficult shoot, however, led Sponberg back behind the camera this season.

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Finally, he wrestled with how high he should hang the “Dwarf Needed” fliers he posted around town.

Hang them too high, he worried, and he might miss his intended audience. Hang them too low, and people might think he’s some jerk making a bad joke.

“I decided to go with chest-level on me,” 24-year-old Dane Sponberg said, “since I’m a pretty tall guy.”

Make that tall but twisted.

Sponberg, a professional photographer who lives in Cabbagetown, is the brains behind the snarky but legitimate holiday come-on plastered on telephone poles across Atlanta. For weeks, he’s been searching for someone to pose as an elf for this year’s Christmas card.

Sponberg has been making his own Christmas cards since he was a kid, when he’d draw holiday images at his mother’s urging.

“I used to want to be a cartoonist,” he said, “until I realized I can’t really draw.”

Armed with a photography degree from the Savannah College of Art and Design, he decided two years ago to recruit a friend to portray a drunken Santa leering at a scantily clad Mrs. Claus.

Any vestige of good taste attached to his name vanished with the click of a shutter.

Last Christmas, in a pose that seems positively wholesome by comparison, he turned the camera on himself dressed as the Grinch.

And in true Grinch-like spirit, he pulled it off like a penny-pinching miser.

He salvaged Styrofoam from a Best Buy store, then sat in front of the TV for hours with a serrated knife and shaved it into snow.

He made furry green pants from cheap, fuzzy fabric he covered with spray paint.

He fashioned a tree branch into antlers, just like the Grinch did, then plied his saintly lab mix, Jerry, with treats until the docile dog no longer feared the odd-looking object.

“But once it was on his head, it took him about 20 seconds to shake it off,” Sponberg said.

Clearly, posing for his own Christmas cards presented many obstacles. So this year Sponberg revived the drunken Santa concept, but with an unsuspecting elf as the object of Santa’s affection.

It seemed perfectly fair, he thought, to offer $100 for an hour’s worth of work. And if a professional actor or model came forward, he’d throw in a few head shots for free.

Friends told him the very idea of putting out a “Dwarf Needed” appeal was insensitive, boorish and downright appalling.

When he checked with a few specialty talent agencies, though, he didn’t feel so bad.

One Web site, shortdwarf.com, bills itself as “your premier source for leprechauns, elves, oompa loompas and many more short characters!”

Danny Black of Lansing, Mich., a co-owner of shortdwarf.com and part of its talent roster, says there’s nothing offensive about Sponberg’s quest. So far, the company’s holiday business has been “unbelievable.”

“In spite of the economic times, folks still need to have a little happiness in their lives and want to celebrate the holidays in a unique way,” Black said. “And how much more unique than a real live elf at an otherwise really boring party, where you gotta make nice to the boss and you can’t flirt with his secretary just because you’re a little boozed up, but at least you can share some happiness because the company decided to engage an elf to distribute those $5 Christmas bonuses to everybody?”

Competing agencies include Dwarf Entertainment, which promises it can “add a little something extra to spice up your next event” with its roster of tiny dancers.

For those in need of a mini-Elvis, a Valentine’s Day cupid, a St. Patrick’s Day leprechaun, an Easter Bunny, a Santa’s helper — even a Halloween “Chucky” — there’s the Micro Wrestling Federation, with “a micro superstar” on call for all those heartwarming holiday occasions.

As Sponberg discovered, though, there are superstar fees attached. For his photo shoot, it would cost $800.

The cheap route suddenly became the only way to go. A listing on the populist-oriented Craigslist proved a bust, save for a single crank e-mail.

But the fliers he posted in Little Five Points and around the Emory and Georgia Tech campuses did generate one serious inquiry from an actor. Maybe it was the idea of posing with a too jolly Santa, but once he discovered the details, he declined.

Now, Sponberg realizes, time is running low. With a little luck, he might yet salvage his elusive artistic vision. All it would take is a quick dash to a costume store for pointy ears, a hat and curly-toed shoes.

Still, “I fear I may have passed the point of no return in employing a little person,” he said.

Short of a Christmas miracle, that is.