I rediscovered a box with my (daughters) doll house furniture, and pulled out a few items. I've already painted this furniture since taking the photo. I'm so noncommittal about picking colours for my real furniture, I thought I could practice on this instead.
Can you see the mattress I made, propped up there?
More about the dollhouse another day.
I wanted you to see the wire basket I painted, then realized I should tell you about Marguerite the marionette. Half the fun I have in my workroom, is organizing my stuff, pulling out things I haven't seen in eons. One of the things I came across was Marguerite, with her poor tangled, decayed strings. I played with her on occasion, when my children were small. Then, she really and truly came to life! She walked across the carpet, shook hands, had conversations and did little dances. My children spoke directly to her and no longer paid attention to the mother pulling the strings on the other end.
Not long ago I listened to an interview with a fiction writer, who spoke about the deep power of imagination. She jokingly said she wondered about her sanity at times because some of the characters that revealed themselves to her where so alien, so foreign to what she was. Being a writer, she was obviously much more eloquent, but you get the idea. That reminds me of some of the dreams I've had, one in particular about looking at these amazing paintings. When I woke up, I realized that I indeed was the creator of the paintings. Somewhere, they came from my imagination. It also reminds me of what it was like to be a child and be lost in the act of pretending.
I will re-string you Marguerite, and maybe add a little embroidery to your neckerchief.
I would like to see you dance again, with those clip clop-pity, green shoes.
