Skip to main content

Angelica, Barbies

I received Angel Face this weekend, was somewhat disappointed in the quality as described. The seller claimed her as MIB, but she missed her diamond ring, and her cosmetics have been opened and smeared all over her face and in her hair. I was able to clean off everything with my Magic Eraser. Her vinyl is noticeably more fragile than that of my vintage reproduction. I can see that she is decaying, however slowly.

Her hair has a waxy coat that allows for styling, just like my Fashion Face. Her hair was in its original style, but the rubber band rotted through it, and I haven't managed to pick it all out. I love her sunstreaked hair. It's brown underneath. I would never have thought Barbie could offer me this kind of peace and contemplation, but those evenings when in the late afternoon I have sat by the window photographing her or styling her hair I have felt so happy. There is a sense of familiarity, and a sense that I wished I could return to my childhood playthings with my camera and sewing abilities, and make them things, and now that is what I am going to do.

I wish to make Angel Face some plastic canvas yarn furniture in pink.

I have decided in my old tradition of naming Barbies that I will call her Angelica.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Korean Gothic Imaginary

Today has been such a huge day for me, even though I haven't left the house and have just done work all day long. I went forward with emailing my prospective advisor about my dissertation topic on Korean literature, and he agreed to supervise this dissertation. Korean literature, and Hallyu 1.0, topics so important to me, will be legitimated as part of my scholarly identity. I feel like today is a kind of spiritual wedding day for my scholarly career (although the dissertation defense will more literally be that). My goal is to become a professor of Korean literature and that dream, as of today, is much closer. Almost fatefully, I happened to see this Soom Super Gem Girl sculpt that the vendor posted on Den of Angels. I was not in any danger of forgetting the elements of Korean imaginaries that make my blood run cold and my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. "Gross beauty," I have called it, but I really mean it in the nicest way.  A number of Edgar Alla...

Why Did I Sell This Doll?

Over the past several days, I have been going through my digital photo files, restoring images to old posts on this blog, and adding in doll-related posts from other blogs that are defunct. In so doing, I have come across old posts about dolls that I completely forgot I ever had. This 14" porcelain bjd, designed by Aidamaris Roman, is one of them. She was produced for Paradise Galleries under the name "Confetti," and I purchased her on August 24, 2012. She was absolutely amazing! Around this same time, I was head over heels over Emilie Autumn's "Opheliac" album, and it was impossible not to conflate this doll's appearance with the overall aesthetic of "Opheliac."  I named her Bettina Cinders. She was a little larger than a Barbie, but she slept in a Barbie bed covered with a vintage striped apron that matched her aesthetic. Additionally, she could wear some of the looser-fitting Barbie clothes, like those here.  I remember...

I don't want to go / I want to go

I don't want to go out anymore.  I don't want to go out beyond the perimeter of this property. I just want to absorb the nature of this place. I have seen so much, and I just want to reflect. If I stay here long enough and think through and remember, I'll be able to unravel this tangle of places and people I've encountered over the years, and put everything in order. I'll have a complete understanding of all I've seen and done, then, if I could just take enough time here, and don't see anything else for a while.  I only want to go out to local places, because now, I have learned that the soil seethes with history, and that stones radiate stories. I have learned how to read history in the trees, soil, and stones, and I only want to go out to local places and read those stories, and experience the past overlaying the present. In those moments, the curtain between the past and the present vanishes. Nothing ever ...