My father brought my daughter a bag of old dolls that he found abandoned in an old 1800's house in TN. He thought that she could make something with them or practice sewing by making them doll clothes. Some of them were in pretty rough shape. So, my sister - who was in town visiting me- and I decided that all of us would breath new life into them by painting them and upcycling them. We had quite a lot of fun! My daughter is working on a purple metallic one, I have finished one ( below ) and have one in the works, and my sister has almost two completed.
Showing posts with label Altered Art Dolls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Altered Art Dolls. Show all posts
Monday, April 20, 2009
Upcycled Discarded Baby Dolls
My father brought my daughter a bag of old dolls that he found abandoned in an old 1800's house in TN. He thought that she could make something with them or practice sewing by making them doll clothes. Some of them were in pretty rough shape. So, my sister - who was in town visiting me- and I decided that all of us would breath new life into them by painting them and upcycling them. We had quite a lot of fun! My daughter is working on a purple metallic one, I have finished one ( below ) and have one in the works, and my sister has almost two completed.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Leda and the Swan

Leda and the Swan, a 16th century copy after a lost painting by Michelangelo, 1530 (National Gallery, London)
I am working on an altered art doll of Leda and the Swan. She is a bit strange but I am having fun with her.
Leda and the Swan is a motif from Greek mythology, in which Zeus came to Leda in the form of a swan.
"Leda and the Swan" is a poem by William Butler Yeats first published in 1928 (below). Combining psychological realism with a mystic vision, it describes the swan's raping of Leda.
- A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
- Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
- By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
- He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
- How can those terrified vague fingers push
- The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
- And how can body, laid in that white rush,
- But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
- A shudder in the loins engenders there
- The broken wall, the burning roof and tower[20]
- And Agamemnon dead.
-
-
-
-
- Being so caught up,
-
-
-
-
- So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
- Did she put on his knowledge with his power
- Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
