Dolls

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About the Artist

Why dolls? What does my art mean to me? What am I trying to express? Why do I do this? These are the questions I ask myself as I work fabric and ideas into my rhagdolls. There are no simple answers, there never are.  There is only the journey.

So much has brought me to this point in my art. So much shapes the look of the dolls. I’ve come a long way round trip from a small factory city in the northeast and back again. Many are the people who were my influences. Many are the cultures. Countless are the little things.

My great-grandmother embroidered in the Matyo style, her intricate workings fascinated me from an early age. The tiny stitches, the flowers, the rich colors, the words I could not read. The cutwork lace! Much of her work now graces my home.

One grandfather was a collector of art dolls. One grandmother made dolls for all her grandchildren that we all cherish still. From one of her old patterns, one of her old dolls became my original body pattern.

The grandmother that painted gave me oil pastels, so many pretty colors all in a row. The grandfather taught me to wield a hammer. The African artifacts brought back form their travels were dark wooden mysteries. A blue dashiki. A hand-woven grass bag. Metal. Tribal. Wood. Ivory.
   

 

 

 

  
 

 

 

Also at this time I was introduced to renaissance faires and period garments. I poured over books on the subject: Tilke, Kohler, Winter. I met three very talented costumers, one working with the Carmel Little Theater.

At the countless faires I attended I noticed a lack of toys offered for sale. Yes, there were wooden swords and shields, but nothing for my niece.  It was then that I first began to toy with the notion of dolls in ‘garb’: ‘Raggedy Anne of Cleaves’. Research revealed a limited history, but as I was once told ‘If it was possible, than it was probable’. Dolls made from scraps of fabric and yarns were possible.

I focused my love of buttons, fabrics and stitch work and all the absorbed cultures, styles, colors, sounds, sights, tastes and talents into my need for a creative outlet. I started on the dolls. rhagdolls.

They spoke names to me. They told me who they were and from where they came. They told of their travels. They told their tales. They whispered in my mind’s ear. I began to understand that the dolls just might kindle creative thought and play in children. Encouraging a child’s creativity and imagination is something I feel strongly about, especially having been raised in that rich environment.

To all the artistic people who encouraged my childhood imagination, I, and the dolls, tip hat. To all who support what I am doing today, my heart felt thanks. To my husband, all my joy. 

 

©2010 by rhagdolls.com

  
 
 

Each Christmas brought a wooden toy my dad made, while my mom made her daughters new dresses. The trip to Penny’s fabric department became part of the holiday ritual. All that fabric to touch. The buttons nestled in all those little drawers.

I was taught to sew and embroider at an early age. A pillow sham worked for my newborn sister when I was eight. In Girl Scouts, I participated in the “Dolly Derby”, where I earned ribbons.

My travels took me across the country.

In San Antonio, with houses painted like so many crayons in a box, the overwhelming love of color hit me like the heat of August. Everywhere color! My sense of color has never been the same! Mexican pastries sugarcoated in colors that defy nature. Easter eggs filled with confetti.

My employment has always been in a field that allowed me to use my creative flair. I give grateful thanks to the chef that once told me “people eat with their eyes!” Also those that taught me the art in cooking: the balance of flavor, color and texture.  Both ideas translated to what I am now doing.

In San Francisco I worked as a sous-chef for an international clothing manufacturer. There amidst the rolls upon rolls of fabrics lining the halls, I fell hem over heels in love with fabric! It was in retrospect a quirky twist of fate. I talked with designers, buyers, sewing ladies and the ‘notions lady’. There in 'Baghdad by the Bay' I discovered colors muted by fog and movement suggested in the rise and fall of the streets. And fabric stores: out in The Avenues shops that sold silks, in the Mission outlets filled with the remnants from design houses, and Britex. ‘Folkwear’ patterns, with ethnic dress other than my own Hungarian, found there way to my sewing room.