Dollface

My fave little Moleskine sketchbook (the cahier journal) fits in my purse or backpack, and I like keep one handy for long lines, car rides, sudden genius (quick before the lights go out).  I have started keeping one just for doll faces, to work on facial expressions, the kind that make a character come alive.

Curiosity killed the cat and knowledge brought her back.  Here's the child detective with a bit too much time on her hands.  Summer, you know, preoccupied adults, musty attics.  Finding things you don't really want to find ...

The Fat Faerie (with slight apologies to all you faes out there), who is the enforcer of the The Rules About Sweet Indulgence.  She never sleeps.  She knows where you live. 

The Machiavellian Courtesan.  A Simpering Siren whose whole career is getting exactly what she wants, and lots of it, with as little effort as possible, except for the mentally taxing effort of all that plotting and the relentless search for high born fools.  Ah, her tiny, shell like ears, her twinkling feet, her poisonous embrace ...

Remember Mrs. Danvers, from the film based on Daphne du Maurier's novel, Rebecca?  The veiled insolence, the servant superior to the mistress, the chilly sense of menace?  Yeah, that one.  Imagine a scene where this character almost talks the innocent young thing into dashing herself onto the sea-tossed rocks far below, yes, just a step out the elegant casement, and all your worries will be ended, you know you want to, and a performance that makes this character believable.  Ah, the skittery frisson of shock and helplessness as you find yourself actually considering defenestration ...


The little doll faces sketchbook I hope will help me reach a goal creating grand, maybe histrionic, possibly menacing, believable characters. Those little fantasies you buy into, that willing suspension of disbelief.  What fun!  Simple, harmless little dollies, wouldn't cause a moment's concern, would they?