The Light Tent

Ever since I found out how photographers on flickr got this studio clean look, I've been curious about photographing through a light box. I finally got my dad to get me one this month for my birthday. It arrived early this morning at work. It came with no instructions whatsoever which I found a bit disconcerting (I'll be including that in my feedback Amazon seller) but I figured it all out myself. I had to watch an instructional youtube video though, made by Adorama to find out what setting my camera should be in while I shot and other little particulars I just needed to be sure of.

I'm super happy with it so far. The detail and richness of the subjects with such evenly diffused light is pretty amazing. I can't wait to experiment with other different kinds of light.

A Doll Story

Me and Baby Checkers

Last night on the drive upstate to Fran’s place in Rockland County, the names of all my old dolls started to stream back into my memory. They are long gone; mostly because of the house fire we had in the Bronx years ago. I could have kept them but there were a lot and I was just so messed up over the whole disaster that it felt foolish at the time to try and keep them. My Barbies, baby dolls, Cabbage Patches all went in the dumpster. I can’t even imagine what I would have done with them all if I’d kept them. I think it was for the best. But I guess what’s gotten me started thinking about it is my present obsession with Blythe dolls and just dolls in general, what they mean and how they influence our development racially, emotionally, socially.

Thinking about my dolls’ names made me realize that my mom may have been a bit of a doll collector in her mature years as well. One of my first dolls that I received from her for Christmas was a black doll in a wedding dress. Her name was Isis. That was what we called her although I realize now that I didn’t give her this name. That was all my mom and the influence of her interest and studies of ancient Egyptian history.
There was another black baby doll I had that I loved. She was all plastic and had a speaker in her chest so I imagined she actually spoke at some point but I certainly don’t remember when. I called her Checkers. No mystery there. I just liked the word Checkers.

Denanda was another black baby doll I loved, with a soft stuffed body with plastic arms, legs and head and eyes that closed when she was prone. Mom and I named her mutually, after a Buddhist chant my mother taught me as a girl. We used to sing it together like a song. Ananda means bliss. The chant is a sort of Buddhist meditation about God and following your own conscience.

Om tat sat sit chit ananda

It means absolute Consciousness, absolute Existence, absolute Bliss.

Mom also made me a doll out of brown velvet with no facial features. My brother and I called her Brown Baby. She had real hair on her head, though I forget whose hair it was. We cast her as the hero of countless doll adventures.

When I think about this stuff now, I realize that much of my self-esteem, self-image and curiosity about other cultures was grounded unconsciously by the way in which my mom integrated her own multicultural interests in the naming of my dolls. Somehow, the diversity in their names (They had traditional Western names like Mandy, Judy and Eve as well) informed my easy acceptance of differences on a wider scale. Somehow, even as a girl I knew that the way people played with dolls was very telling about deeper aspects of their personalities, home life, learned preference and future development. So much can be learned about people from the way in which they play, not just dolls but toys in general. As we get older, toys may change take on various new definitions, but for me, a lack of play is a lack of life. I had so much fun playing as a girl and I have never really stopped.

Project Black Blythe

I have been getting so much helpful mail from Blythe collectors in my flickr correspondence that it’s really made me feel like part of a little community. It usually happens while I’m browsing through flickrverse adding favorites and leaving comments as I go. Someone will check out my pics, add faves and essentially do the same and then add me as a contact so that they can see any new pics I upload in the future on their home page. This is how I came to correspond with Amanda Ruth, a young lady (also an etsy seller) who is in the process of knitting a cute green dress for Emily. It was a dress I saw posted on her flickr set and I as soon as I saw that she had an etsy shop I had to ask her if she could make me that dress.

I’m still trying to figure out a way to get plasticfashion (Laura is her name) to make me a pair of her Blythe jeans. She has a shop on Etsy and Artfire but there is nothing on either of them. That really irritates me especially given how prolific she is. Her Blythe clothes are incredibly detailed and well made and when I saw the jeans I nearly passed out. My mom was a professional seamstress back in the day and we always had at least two sewing machines in the house so I know how hard it is to make clothes for people. I never cared for it myself. I’m more into design. I can only imagine how difficult it must be making accurate measurements for a doll dress.

My latest correspondence is from Jewels Blueberry who just finished customizing a black Blythe, something I am determined to do in the next few months or so. I commented on how nice her doll looked and mentioned my plans as well as a looming lack of confidence about it since I have never done anything like this. She sent me a message in flickr mail right away: a set of clear, detailed and simple instructions on how to make a black Blythe and assurance that it really is pretty simple. It filled me with encouragement and at now I east feel like maybe this is something I can successfully do. I think it will be an interesting and socially informative undertaking, you know? Will a can of spray paint be the only thing to make a Blythe doll black? Stay tuned.