Why I Have A Basket Full of Doll Heads?
Every artist makes mistakes, but not every artist has a literal basket full of them. Yet, here I am—an eerie collector of doll heads.
Where Dolls Begin: The Highs and Lows of Creation
When I first started sewing dolls, I wanted them to have beautifully painted faces. I imagined stars in their eyes, delicate expressions, charming features, and personalities shining through each one. But I didn’t anticipate how difficult the process would be.
Painting doll faces turned out to be much harder than I expected. At first, I blamed the brushes, then the paint, and even the fabric itself. Maybe the markers weren’t fine enough, maybe the paint didn’t adhere well to the fabric, or maybe—I had to admit—I simply wasn’t skilled at painting. Whatever the reason, the results were… unsettling. Crooked smiles, uneven eyes, strange expressions—I kept trying over and over, but the faces never turned out the way I envisioned.
And so, the doll heads piled up, one after another. I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away entirely, so I tossed them into a bucket, thinking that maybe—just maybe—they’d serve as a reminder of my progress someday. Or, at the very least, as a humorous testament to my persistent struggles.
Learning, Failing, and Finding a Solution
Despite my growing collection of failed attempts, I refused to give up. I realized that achieving beauty in dollmaking wasn’t just about persistence—it was about finding the right technique that worked for me.
That’s when I remembered I can do embroidery.
I found that stitching facial features was much easier to control, and—surprisingly—I had a natural talent for it. Instead of battling with paint and brushes, I could carefully shape delicate and expressive features with common embroidery thread. The results were charming, whimsical, and most importantly, they finally felt like mine.
The Beauty of Imperfection
Through this process, I learned that a doll doesn’t need to be hyper-realistic to be lovable. While I admire artists who create incredibly lifelike faces with paint and brush, I’ve come to appreciate the magic of simplicity. A doll’s charm isn’t just in its details—it’s in the love and effort poured into creating it.
The Hidden Side of Every Creation
One thing I’ve been thinking about these days is that customers and fellow crafters only see my final product. They are presented with finished dolls, carefully showcased, as if they were effortlessly made. What they don’t see is the learning process—the frustration, the self-doubt, the discarded (or in my case, bucketed) failed attempts.
This is something every aspiring artist should understand. The creative process is full of failures. But those failures are necessary. They teach us, push us forward, and lead to discoveries we wouldn’t have made otherwise.
So, if you’re struggling with a new technique, if things aren’t working out and you feel like giving up—don’t. Keep going. Try new methods, experiment, and most importantly, embrace your mistakes. Who knows? One day, you might find yourself staring at a bucket full of lessons, just like I did.
And trust me—it’s not as scary as it sounds… Nor as spooky as these little creepy eyes gazing at you from my basket…
Vicky in many versions
A couple of variations of my sewn doll Vicky show the development and improvement of skills, as well as the fact that no hand made item can be identical to the previous one.