... was made reluctantly a number of years ago at Arrowmont.
It was an exercise to start the flow of creativity in a week long workshop, "Healing Art", conducted by
Susan Shie and James Accord. At the end of the orientation assembly the night before, everyone in our class was instructed to bring a sock to class. I was a bit put off when we were told to spend the first day making a sock doll. There was no instruction other than to make the doll. It seemed a waste of time because each of us had already spent a lot of time and effort to prepare for creating a specific piece of art that dealt with healing.
Somewhere I have a group photo with my classmates and their dolls. One that has really stuck with me is a most gorgeous beaded mermaid doll made from a grungy tube sock.
I don't know why, but the first thing I did was to turn my sock inside out. The extra lengths of thread where the knitting changed colors intrigued me. As I stuffed and shaped her body, childhood memories began to surface. For some reason I could not explain, I just couldn't give her arms. She was endowed with all other female attributes, including underarm hair. She even got a cute little hat made from the top part of the sock.
I stayed late in the studio to finish her ... there was going to be no more time wasted on a sock doll when I had a BIG serious project to work out. Just before I fell asleep, the memory of making a sock doll when I was in a children's home hit me. I really, really wanted a doll. The only way I could have one was to secretly make it and her clothes from my socks. It's pretty certain that I did have some thread and a pair of scissors. She was probably stuffed with a pair of panties. Of course, I had to hide her and could only play when everyone else was asleep. The disappearance of my socks was a mystery to everyone else.
The second day of class opened with a discussion of our experience in making the dolls. Then we were told, what by then was obvious to each of us, that the act of creating a doll with no instructions or outside input was a way of opening channels of creativity on a deeper level.
The theme for my healing art quilt was my broken family, which is why my siblings and I were in the children's home. Making the sock doll opened a floodgate of memories for those years over half a century ago. That quilt was never finished, but the process of creating it brought a closure for a difficult and painful childhood. This spirit doll is a presence in Studio South. Can you spot her?
Initially my plan was to make a small vignette of a decorated Christmas tree in a bell jar-like display. Then I begin collecting and making things. Before I knew it, I had way too much for a small display. So ... I had to collect and make more to fill a room. My husband's uncle built the room for me back in the early 1980's.
And I did have her, but not until I bought her when I was in my forties. She now belongs to my great-niece.
I more than made up for my childhood deprivation with a huge collection of dolls. About five years ago I began gifting a special doll to each of the girls, old and young, in my family.
She very much wanted an American Girl doll with all the accessories that her family could not afford to buy. If there had been one in my collection it would've been hers. I included more clothes with accessories. These are three that I had designed and made.
Also included was that chair in the above photo plus a lot of other "stuff" I had collected for dolls.
This limited edition art doll is the last doll added to my collection. She was gifted to a grown up niece who is seriously collecting dolls.
The foundation of her collection is the dolls I had dressed and gifted to her throughout her childhood. No little girls in my family went without.
The pattern I had made for the doll on this cover was also published as "Allison's Dress", a multiple sizes pattern for real girls.
It was an exercise to start the flow of creativity in a week long workshop, "Healing Art", conducted by Susan Shie and James Accord. At the end of the orientation assembly the night before, everyone in our class was instructed to bring a sock to class. I was a bit put off when we were told to spend the first day making a sock doll. There was no instruction other than to make the doll. It seemed a waste of time because each of us had already spent a lot of time and effort to prepare for creating a specific piece of art that dealt with healing.
Somewhere I have a group photo with my classmates and their dolls. One that has really stuck with me is a most gorgeous beaded mermaid doll made from a grungy tube sock.
I stayed late in the studio to finish her ... there was going to be no more time wasted on a sock doll when I had a BIG serious project to work out. Just before I fell asleep, the memory of making a sock doll when I was in a children's home hit me. I really, really wanted a doll. The only way I could have one was to secretly make it and her clothes from my socks. It's pretty certain that I did have some thread and a pair of scissors. She was probably stuffed with a pair of panties. Of course, I had to hide her and could only play when everyone else was asleep. The disappearance of my socks was a mystery to everyone else.
These first two pictures are from Patty. She's in charge of the exchange.
My contribution to each is a pair of breasts since I didn't include any when I designed the pattern*.
They are made "yo-yo" style, stuffed with a circle cut from batting, and have nipple decorations to conceal the hole and stitching where the fabric is drawn up.
This one was given "Bee" wings and button buttocks by one of the participants before I got her.
What are the chances of my finding a fabric in my stash that matched the dolls body so well that she looks bare breasted?
We Thursday Bee ladies are having fun!