Hand sculpted and sewn, ∼35 cm/14" one of a kind art doll. Her not removable dress is made of beige linen and white gauze and lace, adorned with tiny bells. She has a cape made of vintage embroidered cotton with white feathers sewn on it and leaves on its closure. The face and limbs are painted, her arms and legs are moveable and slightly bendable. The doll is almost zero waste as I fill the textile scraps back to the the body along with wool and dried herbs.
This is not a toy for children, rather an artwork or home decor. Please don't wash it in water, just wipe it with a soft dry cloth if necessary. Dropping or scratching can damage the doll.
Order includes only one of the dolls, the Ghost of the Frozen Wind.
In times past there was the Forest. It gave home to an abundance of different life forms – growling feral beasts, oddly formed mushrooms, birds singing otherworldly songs, luminescent insects, and tall old trees of course.
Those ancient trees coated with lush moss were homes to squirrels, murders of crows and solitary owls, with forgotten treasures hidden underneath their roots. Deers peeled off their barks and foxes – glints of scarlet – scurried among their trunks. One by one they were only trees, but together, connecting with invisible veins of consciousness they were the Forest, an entity breathing with millions of lungs, seeing with millions of eyes, living millions of lives.
Beneath them sprouted an evanescent carpet of pale flowers in fast reincarnation blooming in the shadows of their primeval surroundings. The blossoms attracted armies of insects: dainty butterflies, tipsy bumblebees and observant dragonflies, glittering in the faint beams of light.
The wind carried the scent of the flowers from insect to insect, but not only that: it carried the arc of the owls’ flight and the blue jays’ lost feathers, the rhythm of the blackbirds’ songs. In autumn it shook the golden leaves off the branches, replaced them with cobwebs and later with sparkling snow.
One day it was all over. The trees started to disappear, leaving only truncated stumps behind, the animals fled from their collapsing homes, the flowers withered under the scorching sun and the wind froze in deadly silence. Only three spectres remained, haunting the murky, bare land with their eternal, macabre dance: the ghost of the withered flowers, the ghost of the ancient trees and the ghost of the frozen wind.