Bookshelves, CD racks and players, stools, cardboard boxes, strings and yarn and dustbunnies all crammed in a closet, an alcove curtained off for my devices. The world where I was God. Fabrics drape in three Dee, a dance and a sculpture, a mold and a chrysalis, a shield and a mask.
As a child, stitching things together by hand, legs and arms and sexy dresses and beggar tatters. Then the desire to make my own clothing.
Some part of me feels touched, drawn to this exhibition. My fingers making dolls and doll clothes and turning myself into a doll, too.