Jolyma
"The
mirror reflects more than my hands can feel.
Lines, edges, shadings, a weariness under the eyes, an awkward stance.
Yet, not reflected is a certain vibrancy --
a compassion and wisdom and wonder so many people rely on.
Only you, my beaded art doll,
capture the fullness of me as I age in place .
You embody changes I want to make, so I aptly name you…"
Jolyma
As a
child you spoke to me from mud as I sat at the far end of the garden patting
earthen cakes between my palms. And how luminous that mud like the color
of your skin could be. Chocolate, gold and olive green the fertile soil
in which you breathe. Life survives and thrives in your rich ground. How
thick and verdant a tapestry you weave coaxing tender shoots from seed
direct towards the sun.
Beneath
your feet flow waters pure in blues of midnight, cobalt, azure. And from
your head, your crown pours too a stead fall of water vapor to keep the
cycle in full fervor. Seashells salt the brine while dolphins race the
open water, crabs scuttle and pince morsels as starfish graze the coral
fileds. This sacred water serves to cleanse each day anew, filling teardrops
to burst and run away hot hurts, quench body's thirst and keep the cups
all running over. These are the waters from which life pours forth on
this most juicy of planet homes.
A copper
skirt around your hips adorns that middle place from whence we all emerged.
Copper that perfect balance metal someplace between both gold and silver,
reminder of the middle way that runs between all righteous poles. The
path of peace, where bees do chant their blessed drone, dragonflies take
wing and turtles through the leafy carpets chomp. Honeyed is this path
you walk and sweet the air from flower blossoms.
Your
robe all crimson, filled with holy fire licks like flames up your slender,
wiry frame. You wear your heat in honest glory not secreting away your
passions deep to erupt and drown some unsuspecting town in molten rage.
No, you model it true for all to see and marvel at its scorching shimmer.
Passionately you blaze, immune to life's cruel dowsing lessons.
And above
your head in celebration you raise and praise the sun and moon our most
local of heavenly spheres. To whose light and motion we shall ever remain
in debt, crediting us as they do each day and night with forces awesome.
You honor and treasure these blessed principles of male/female might.
The moon that draws the tidal swell uniting women through monthly rites,
calling wolves to howl and us to nights dark contemplation. And the Sun
whose golden reach extends each dawn to quell the fears of night, shines
upon our kingdom green encouraging each tree to grow, bloom and bear sweet
fruit.
Jolyma
appears to those that listen and sit in silence before the mirror. Sometimes
belly round and beautiful she appears like some ripened fig and other
times all wrinkled and cracked like some ancient desert Brujera. But mostly
I see her like this: a dancer robed in crimson fire with copper skirt
abuzz with bees, the sun and moon held aloft in perfect balance a torch
enlightening the Earth round and rich beneath her feet. In this guise
she embodies life as celebration. My life as celebration.
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Frontal Image
Back Image
Detailed Image
(rotation)
List of Materials
and Techniques Employed
Dimensions:
25" tall x 8" wide
Construction
Techniques:
wire armature
dowel legs
stuffed with Fiber Fill
Painted with Fabric Dye
Styrofoam base/sun/moon
Materials
List:
muslin
felt
lame
batting
fiber Fill
copper wire/millinery wire/craft wire/steel wire
wooden dowels/plywood/pvc tubing
gemtac glue
silamide/thread/beeswax
seed beads
bugle beads
fire polish glass beads
swarovski crystal beads
indian glass beads
antique glass beads
amber beads
dangles -- pewter, sterling ,copper & brass
Techniques:
Self Taught (don't know proper terms)
All hand sewn with thread or wire.
VISIT
HER WEBSITES:
kingfishercrafts.etsy.com
animalsandicons.etsy.com
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KATHY
FORD
from Deep Gap, North Carolina
Doll named
Jolyma
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