It happened while I was making clothing for my Barbie out of toilet paper. Too young for scissors, I had torn a hole for her head and was trying to join the side seams with a stapler when I hit my finger. The staple entered one side and came out the other side of my tiny fingernail. The housekeeper picked me up and ran across the back field to a neighbor who was a doctor. This early childhood story illustrates my innate desire to create and also foreshadows many finger-stabbings that I have willingly suffered in a life-long quest of craft.
My creativity and experimentation was not limited to garments, however. I made mud dolls and laid them in the sun to dry: soon discovering the difference between mud and clay. In school, I was always the one chosen to decorate the bulletin boards. Mother told me that each day, as I walked home from school, I’d stop at every house on the…
- Joined September 16, 2010