The object #13 Doll

I made this doll about 20 years ago, I reckon. She is no one in particular, though a lot of people have thought she is supposed to be my daughter, Emily. She has Emily hair. I think the resemblance stops there. She has been sitting on various shelves in various places for so many years that her clothing has faded places from the sun and her hair is quite full of dust that I don't really know how to remove.

I have made a lot of dolls over the years, but this is the only one I ever made with sculpted parts. Her head, hands and arms and legs and feet were fashioned from polymer clay and attached to a fabric body. It was a whim. I had seen dolls made this way and wondered how it might work. The hands and legs are rather clumsy, but I still rather like her face. I'll probably never make another. This one is my office companion.

People seem to be doll people or not. No inbetweens. I played with my dolls, as a child, but mostly I sewed for them and dressed them in my creations. I learned a lot about sewing by sewing doll clothes.

This doll has no name. There is something a little spooky, a little wistful, a little eery about dolls. Some people seem to hate them on principle. Are they toys, effigies, sculpture, witchcraft?  Cuteness is not a quality I look for in dolls. I wish I had made these dolls.