The Seaside Angel

It is some years ago now, a summer of grief.
I swam daily in the gulf, my tears over the loss of a deep love, mingling with the waves.
I know I was swimming out too far, way over my head.
I could not touch the bottom of the sea, or my sadness. I knew I was in danger, but I did not care.
I heard a distant call from the beach, someone calling my daughter's name "Amanda."
It was this name and perhaps the frantic note that alerted me, as my daughter was not with me that day, I swam alone.
Perhaps it was the nudge of an angel, that made me turn back to shore, look over my shoulder to see her.
A little girl, maybe 5 years old...well over her head too, gasping and struggling as her Mother shouted from the shore.
I see her little head disappear under the waves and a shock goes through me.
I swim, already winded, though this matters not to me now.
I grab her arm. She surfaces, her little face drawing breath in a gasp.
I drag her to the shore, where her Mother, hip deep in the surf, snatches her from me, weeping, and angry.
I am spent now, but so is a part of my grief.
This brush with danger, this covering of angel wings has saved me from drowning too.
This Seaside Angel is a memory of that time and for someone who is recovering from a grief.
May she protect you, or just remind you to protect yourself!.
She is 12 inches tall, and is not pleased with your recklessness.
and this is actually a true story.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/152091549/the-seaside-angel

The painted lady Butterfly Fey.

I had to call my daughter this morning.

She's in Seattle.
My story maker had taken a break, I'd like to think not a break down, but none the less,
was in a deep sleep.
I woke her up, it seems that my story maker wasn't the only thing who was sleeping.
I told her that I needed help.
A different perspective on a story for a doll named the Painted Lady.
I described her, and I said that it looked like she had been out all night dancing in glitter,
we talked about places a person could go to have this experience...dancing in a field of Glitter.
So,
That is how the story was born.
A Collaborative effort...
I hope your wishes come true,
and even if they don't...
I hope we all get the chance or make the experience of a night filled with dancing in a field or meadow of places where the shooting stars have landed, and planted their wishes.
Maybe if you can't make your own wish come true,
you could pick up someone else's wish and grant theirs.

The Painted Lady Butterfly Fey

No mistakes!

Some folks have asked me at times
"Why do you coffee dye your dolls?
And why do you bake them?

There are a lot of methods for aging primitive creations.
You can find recipes for making your dolls look primitive or old, all over the internet.

I like strong coffee for this process of aging. and usually use it hot and right from the same pot that I am drinking from.

It takes a little bit of nerve to pour it over your freshly made creation...
and I sometimes think..."OH NOOOOO!"
"I've ruined it."
and truthfully, in the shaping process and rinsing process that occurs afterward, I try to redeem some of the colors that get muted.
I literally hold the face under the kitchen spigot and rinse it...and shape the neck and clothing. Wringing it out to get the extra fluid out...
I place the doll FACE DOWN on aluminum foil.
into an oven at 325 degrees.
I like to think and I do BELieVE that baking them gives them something I cannot.
It infuses them
with an unknown.
Turns them over to an in between where my hand creates and that of the unknown,
 where I think Magic happens.
In the TWEEN,
something Happens. I cannot explain it to you...other than to use these words...they are all that I have.
I trust this process.
When I paint the face,
and lay down the first color of complexion,
The coffee migrates to form a halo around the face itself.
Framing the chin, the eyes and so forth.

So,
Be fearless.
There are no mistakes.