I never really get to celebrate it with as much drama as I’d like, but I love living in New England and getting to watch the remnants of fall leaves drift by the decorations that people make. It’s also fun to ogle the outfits and the treats.
I’m not much of a costumer, I’ve a few iffy renfaire type costumes under my belt and some somewhat better Harry Potter costumes. (I work in a bookstore, it’s an occupational hazard!) So I drool over other people’s costumes and channel my costuming urge into my dolls. Besides, face painting seems more worth the time when it’s permanent 😉Here’s one of my dolls. Obviously going Halloweeny black widow, though her mask is inspired by a broken venetian one I’ve been trying to repair. I’m pretty proud of her, even though it’s a fairly simple outfit. I really want to make a mask like that for myself someday if I can’t fix the broken one.
I lucked out in running across a really inspirational doll artisan through deviantart awhile back. For a miniature Halloween parade of charm and whimsy and art, go admire the Fairies’ Nest .
She’s a wonderful artist, and always seems to be so inspired by fall and Halloween. I adore everything about her dolls really, but what seems to stand out the most to me is how wonderful and open the faces are. And how stunning the details she works into the wings.
Okay, and I love the way she displays her dolls. Their little accessories add so much personality. Take the details on Jinx’s grinning jack-o-lantern. And look at the book Clarissa and her daemon are posed against.
Her dolls are great examples of how projects don’t have to be dark or creepy to be perfect for Halloween. Sweetness works as well!
It’s not that she can’t do scary, some of her pieces are spooky, but ever her spooky is charming.
Since we’re likely to run across a surfeit of vampires this season, a poem from Charles Baudelaire seems an appropriate close for this time of year. (From a 1936 translation by George Dillon)
Thou who abruptly as a knife
Didst come into my heart; thou who,
A demon horde into my life,
Didst enter, wildly dancing, through
The doorways of my sense unlatched
To make my spirit thy domain —
Harlot to whom I am attached
As convicts to the ball and chain,
As gamblers to the wheel’s bright spell,
As drunkards to their raging thirst,
As corpses to their worms — accurst
Be thou! Oh, be thou damned to hell!
I have entreated the swift sword
To strike, that I at once be freed;
The poisoned phial I have implored
To plot with me a ruthless deed.
Alas! the phial and the blade
Do cry aloud and laugh at me:
“Thou art not worthy of our aid;
Thou art not worthy to be free.
“Though one of us should be the tool
To save thee from thy wretched fate,
Thy kisses would resuscitate
The body of thy vampire, fool!”