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Wednesday, February 20, 2019

Poppet Ponderings


A friend of mine recently wondered whether there was anything new that could be written about dolls. I certainly hope there is; I have another book about then being published, and one ready to go.  One is sort of a memoir, the other is poetry. I can admit that I have a lot more to say.  Just tonight, I was watching the old Johnny Carson Tonight Show and discovered two dolls I didn’t know about, Suzy Snapshot by Galoob and Bottle Baby by Tyco.  I was able to find both on ebay.


 
One subject to pursue is the pop culture fad that dolls are creepy and scary.  I’ve harped on that before, I know, but it is affecting peoples’ lives and businesses now.  Children are discouraged from playing with dolls, commercials make fun of collectors, doll dealers have to put up with would be patrons telling them their dolls are creepy.  
 
I have the TV on in the background, and I saw Halloween dolls and props on The Office, and a teddy bear on The Nanny.  There is a bobble head mascot on The Office.  The Nanny often features dolls as props, and there is a Nanny doll, which I have.  I love my Halloween monster dolls; they are cute, and reflect us and our interests as humans. I love our own Terror at Skellington Manor haunted house because they have a doll room, full of dolls, but they take care of them, and even ask me to identify them for them.  They also have wonderful animatronics, cousins of automatons and mechanical dolls. They really like dolls, and the whole thing with them is tongue in cheek.
 
Lately, things in my life have been very difficult. Were it not for the dolls and the dollhouses, these past few years, I’m not sure what would have happened to me.  Our passions keep us alive.  Mine are similar to those my late mother, my best friend, my inspiration, shared.  Often, I can’t believe my parents are gone and I’m alone.  The dolls were always a family endeavor.  We took trips to find them, bought them as souvenirs, Dad built doll houses and doll cases, ’he drove my mother to find them when I was away at school, and my mother made dolls, dressed them, helped me fix them. Both were supportive and proud of them.  The rest of my extended family was in on it, too.
 
We also liked coins, stamps, books, and shells.  We have postcards and ticket stubs and lots of slides from all our trips.  These are not just things; they sustain me and remind me that life was once good.
 
Planning this doll museum has been a huge dream, and a big project.  Dolls and “the doll motif” have been a huge part of my life.  Barbara Pym, the writer I wrote a book and my dissertation on, stated we all needed something to love, even if that something were not another person. She meant we had to have a passion in life, something that got us excited and made us want to wake up each morning.  Virginia Woolf, who preceded Pym at Oxford and whom Pym read, said we should all have a room of our own, hence her work, A Room of One’s Own.  If you don’t want to read it, get Eileen Atkins one woman portrayal.  It makes you think.   That room could be a shelf, a “she shack”, or again, something you do that is unique to you, like collecting dolls, crafts, arts, sports, it is up to you to define.
 
During one of my dark times when I couldn’t decide what to do and felt useless, I mentioned to my Dad that all I really knew had to do with dolls. “That’s a talent’, he said.  It surprised me, but it didn’t.  It is a talent to assemble, curate, and maintain a great collection.  It takes organization, management, memory, and communication skills.   What I’ve learned about them took years of study, and not just on dolls.  I read historical texts, plays, literature, sociology books, psychology texts, legal cases and texts, patents, and more.  Books on art and costume crept into my library, and of course, lots of paper dolls, fashion plates, and ephemera.    The dolls have been the best education I’ve had, and I have 12.5 years of college and grad school alone behind me. I could have been a surgeon, but I’d rather be a doll doctor!
 
It’s a shame so many people are ditching good dolls in charity and thrift shops.  It’s a shame doll snobs with high prices and bad attitudes discourage people from getting interested in the hobby.  It’s a shame haunted doll crap is making us all ignorant and driving away kids who are missing out on a lot of fun and chances to make friends and learn something.
 
Dolls are more than money or investment, though good antiques can out do the stock market any day.  I find most doll dealers to be passionate about their inventory and eager to help new collectors learn.  They respect collectors, and are enthusiastic about sharing information and coming together. They are part of the doll community, and important to all of us who study and who collect.
 
Doll shows are social events where we catch up with each other.  I’ve made many friends over dolls, some near and dear to me, as much as my own family.  Dolls have brought my husband and me closer as we work on books and museum projects together.  
 
So, my advice?  Collect, keep an open mind.  As Genevieve Angione wrote, all dolls are collectible.  Study and notice it, even if you don’t collect it, but good general collections have their place.  To paraphrase George Orwell, break any of my rules before doing something barbaric.  In other words, collect what you like in dolls.  Follow your passion, but don’t put down someone else’s.  As for all the negative creepy doll nay sayers, you’re a regrettable part of doll history, but grow up and straighten out your miserable lives. Quit ruining it for everyone else, learn to think for yourselves, and don’t follow every pop culture fad. Finally, well, go get a hobby!  Try collecting dolls seriously. 
 
Happy collecting everyone!

Wednesday, February 13, 2019

In Honor of Black History Month


One of the saddest stories I can think of that dealt with romantic loss and betrayal happened to one of my teachers in junior high.  His fiancĂ©e ran of with the best man.  My teacher used to walk around class when we were doing home work singing under his breath, “I wonder who’s kissing her now?”

 

His story had a happy ending; he married someone else and had a family and is happily retired. 

 

Leo Moss’s story, unfortunately, had an unhappy ending.  Yet, perhaps Moss’s story isn’t that sad; doll collectors carry on his legacy and memorialize him through his dolls. Noted author Myla Perkins amassed a wonderful Moss collection, about to be auctioned, and Leo Moss dolls grace the noted collection of Debra Neff, on its way for exhibition to Paris.

 

Moss was from Macon, GA, which is still a charming town full of history.  Don’t miss the cemetery with the statue of the little Victorian girl.  The statue was placed there by her parents in loving memory after their child died at age 12.

 

Leo Moss is known now as a doll maker, but he was an itinerant worker who, as one story alleges, sold white dolls that he made to gather funding for the black portrait dolls he wanted to make of his own family.  Part of the legend of his dolls involves the modeled tear on some of the faces, like the one on the doll “Lillian.”   

Evidently, oMss made papier mache out of bits of wallpaper he gathered on his odd jobs.  An X-ray of one of the Neff dolls reveals that he used Caucasian composition baby dolls as a foundation for the black dolls he created.

 

A great place to encounter Leo Moss and his dolls for the first time is amid the pages of “Who won Second Place at Omaha?”  This book is a black and white photo study of the dolls that made up the now defunct Aunt Len’s Doll Museum in Harlem.  The owner, Lenon Hoyte, was a well known collector with a large and amazing collection of rare dolls.  A play about Hoyte and her dolls has been written by Alva Rogers called The Doll Plays (2002). At least one doll from the former museum was sold on Ruby Lane.

 

According to Barbara Whiteman who founded the Philadelphia Doll Museum, there are fewer than 100 Leo Moss dolls in existence, though I’m not sure how that number has been determined.   One doll, circa 1920, is marked “L.M.” on it s shoulder the words “Leotta 2 years 1920” was hand stitched on a tag on the doll’s torso.  This doll came with the information “the child with tears is believed to have been a tribute to the young daughter of Moss.”

 

What made the dolls cry?  According to “Who Won Second Place at Omaha?” Moss’s wife ran away with another man who took not only his wife and children, but his dolls and the patterns and materials for making them.

 

Photos of Moss dolls that I have seen are usually children, yet one is an even rarer Man that is supposedly a self portrait of the artist. One of these is in the Neff collection.

 

More information is available at several blogs and sites online on Leo Moss.  Also, Myla Perkins’ book “Black Dolls” has a section on him.  In fact, if you search for Leo Moss in the dolls and bears category on ebay, Perkins’ book pops up.  Pat Smith has a good article on him in her book “Antique Dolls”, vol. 2.  Somewhere, Leo Moss is smiling down on the antique doll world with the realization that his dolls have evolved from handmade toys to desirable folk art cultural icons.  Some of them are embarking on a world adventure to share with other the magic of one man’s artistic doll dreams.

The Dolls Below are presented in honor of Black History Month and in honor of doll makers every where.



 

 

 

 











Wednesday, February 6, 2019

Dr. E's Doll Museum Blog: Skyward February 2019

Dr. E's Doll Museum Blog: Skyward February 2019: Skyward February 2019   March 23   In 1963, while living as a patient at the Jewish National Home for Asthmatic Children ...