slice

If I'm going to be hacking up resin doll parts, I'll have to do so outside, which means that, besides proper respiratory protection, a cordless rotary tool of the appropriate power is also a necessity.

Considering the Dremel 8220-1/28 12V cordless.

Novella's new straps

I replaced the white ribbons on Novella's top with yellow ones tonight. Amazing. I don't think she'll be a Medusa raver girl any more, so I'm still thinking about what to do for her faceup and hair.( Read more... )

Mellifer looking temporarily pharaonic

Finally got around to making Mellifer his truly elaborate skirt out of some fabric from Andrea and a safety pin. While I was at it, I gave him a headdress made of a scrap of the same material held on by some clear rubber bands. Even though I like the effect, it's not what I'm looking for, so it will go away as soon as he gets hair.
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Oops. I realized after taking these that none of them really show his skirt, which was the whole reason I was supposed to be taking the pictures.

Was there really any doubt?

Tested Mazzy's hair on Novella's head. To the surprise of no one ever, she's going with a short 'do in a deep, bright pink, but not as ratty as this wig. I think I'm just going to throw that wig out, unless I can find a way to give it more even coverage and body.

EDIT: Ooooh, found the perfect style: Monique Lucky, size 4, hot pink: two buns on either side of the head, with bangs and long tendrils around the face.
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Angel of Grief

I swear that there's a variation of this famous cemetery statue in a graveyard somewhere in Vermont. I swear that I found a black and white, full-page photo of it in some book of grave iconography somewhere in the state and photocopied it and put it on my wall -- it was that beautiful.

I really don't have an emotional reaction to much modern cemetery iconography, but I love the Angel of Grief. She looks like she has just tumbled from the sky to the edge of the grave in question. Her limp, dejected hand, from which has dropped the branch she was carrying, expresses most eloquently her devastation. She is no prim, restrained angel, with meek eyes turned skyward in diffident supplication; she is a human and earthy creature, drawn down hard by the gravity of grief. She is grieving with her whole body. She embodies grief. William Wetmore Story, the sculptor, captures with great tenderness and sensitivity the human perception of grief: a heaviness in one's heart so dire that it can pull winged beings from the sky and turn them to stone.

Awesomely enough, miniature versions of the Angel of Grief exist [here's one], a sign to me that clearly I should create a Victorian 1:6 scale cemetery set and make a little Angel of Grief the centerpiece. The zombies of Vermont would say, "Let's meet at the grieving angel." She'd need some weathering, though... Here's a technique for faux concrete that may help...