These are images from the omukae ceremony that I held for Ophelia and Shelley, my Dream of Doll Tender Bee-a and Too, on December 6, 2006, close to their second birthday.
The omukae, or welcoming, ceremony is a ceremony designed by the ball-jointed doll company Volks to introduce new Volks dolls to their owners in a special way. I learned about the ceremony by reading threads and viewing images on the site Den of Angels. From what I can tell, Volks uses music, recitation, candles, and flowers in their omukae ceremonies.
I created a ceremonial photo shoot with Ophelia and Shelley using candles, evergreen branches, and tiny flowers. The photos were taken at night with artificial lighting.
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly!--yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost for ever:
Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings
Give various response to each varying blast,
To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.
We rest.--A dream has power to poison sleep;
We rise.--One wandering thought pollutes the day;
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:
It is the same!--For, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free:
Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;
Nought may endure but Mutability.
The omukae, or welcoming, ceremony is a ceremony designed by the ball-jointed doll company Volks to introduce new Volks dolls to their owners in a special way. I learned about the ceremony by reading threads and viewing images on the site Den of Angels. From what I can tell, Volks uses music, recitation, candles, and flowers in their omukae ceremonies.
I created a ceremonial photo shoot with Ophelia and Shelley using candles, evergreen branches, and tiny flowers. The photos were taken at night with artificial lighting.
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| Taken with my Palm Treo 600. |
MUTABILITY.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Percy Bysshe Shelley
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly!--yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost for ever:
Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings
Give various response to each varying blast,
To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.
We rest.--A dream has power to poison sleep;
We rise.--One wandering thought pollutes the day;
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:
It is the same!--For, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free:
Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;
Nought may endure but Mutability.
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| A picture I took of them the following day, in daylight. |
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