Spring Comes to the Paper Wasp Gallery!

As Arly drove down Dauphin Street she let me roll the window down so I could feel the wind in my face, and it felt fine! It was Saturday, which meant, as far as I could tell, that we were going back down to the park, which she called Cathedral Square, to spend the afternoon at the Paper Wasp. At first, when she told me that last week, I gave her a look like she was one brick short of a full load, but then she explained to me that it was a gallery, full of art and books, and I gave her the benefit of the doubt. 

I could honestly pitch a tent in that gallery. When I walked in, I immediately felt like a cool, cotton turquoise blanket had been wrapped around me. Maybe it was the fact that those turquoise blue walls made my blue face seem extra pretty, I'm just not sure, but I knew I loved it. Along the walls were whimsical paintings and artwork from the story, Peter and the Wolf by Prokofiev. I remembered listening to that story with my Angle Face on her record player, as she held up the book to show us the pictures. It made me feel close to her, like it was only yesterday.


Along the shelves were these interesting books. Arly said that Wayne, that's who owned the shop, was a book binder, and I laughed and told her he was one, peculiar binder upper. I had never seen books like these, all weaved with linen thread, and some even had these sharp, pointy shells sticking out of them, which she said were sea urchins. I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to put a sea urchin on a book, but the longer I looked at them, and realized that they were one of a kind, like me, I took a fancy to them. 

Everywhere I looked my eyes were filled with beautiful things. I took a deep breath in and soaked up all the art vibes I felt around me, which made my face feel like it was best of show. When a customer came in Arly placed me up on the counter and I quickly got nervous, because I didn't want to be seen, not after the other day. I quietly made my way around an old, twirly letter press machine, and came face to face with the most gorgeous Gerber daisies, as peach as my bottom used to be and probably a lot softer.  I knew they would be the perfect place to hide behind, so I snuggled up extra close and pretended my face was a flower blossom too, and just as pretty. 


Arly said that it was spring in Mobile, and the flowers were beginning to bloom. I looked at her funny and told her I remember daisies like these, but I couldn't put my finger on just why. That bothered me. A few minutes later, I tied my satin lined bow on my head, so I could look like the diva that I felt I was, and headed for the window. Carefully, I crawled up onto the pebbled shelf that lined the window seal and stood looking out at the families playing in the park. 

There were couples who seemed hopelessly in love walking by and a few times there were children who would walk up to the window and just look at me. At first that made me uncomfortable, but when I remembered how I felt hiding in the flowers, I just pretended I was still a beautiful little blue flower standing tall, and I wasn't afraid anymore. 

A little girl waved to me as she rode by in her stroller, and I waved backed. It gave me the thought that since it was spring, maybe there was hope that people would find things more beautiful. I closed my eyes and made a wish, that one day, I would be as special as the art on display in this place. Until then, I would have to pretend to be my own piece of art, which I choose to call......"Roots As Blue Blossoms", in honor of spring....of course.


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See No Evil

As soon as my eye caught a glimpse of the figure looking at me, looking at me with those white eyes, I just had to go touch it. The whiteness seemed odd to me because it didn't look like an ordinary eye, but just the same, it was beautiful. When I looked at my face in the mirror I noticed that my eyes had changed, they were no longer the golden brown that I was used to seeing, they were black, and I hated them.

I can still see out of my eyes, still use them to function, still discern between colors and light, but they aren't 'pretty' anymore, not pretty like they used to be. My Angel Face used to talk about my eyes all the time, because when she saw them, they made her smile. I miss that smile and her ocean blue eyes, so gentle and sweet, oh how I miss them.

The eyes that I saw now, on this cold, shiny what I think to be a statue thing, made me wonder why they are simply white. Placed on the glass shelf just next to him lay a card with the words "See No Evil" written like it's his name or maybe a description of what he's supposed to do, and I find that a little weird. It's weird to me because he is looking around at the most beautiful place, and where would evil be here I think to myself. As I start to look around him, I see other eyes, staring coldly, with strange expressions coming from them and I wondered if this artist had a thing for eyes.



The words "See No Evil" danced around in my head for a while and for the life of me I didn't want to go there, go where I knew they would take me. I simply wanted to stay mesmerized with all this beautiful art around me and not think about seeing no evil, for I had seen enough evil to last a hundred lifetimes. But then, after those words flew from my head to my heart, I realized the purpose of those white eyes. They were opaque, he could see nothing, and for one small second I understood why my eyes were painted black. For one small second I remembered what I had seen when my eyes were beautiful, and I prayed for blindness.


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Visiting An Art Gallery Makes Me Feel At Home!

Evidently, I am not the only one who has a thing for paints. Arly, who I am becoming quite fond of, seems to be an artist. There are buckets of paints all over the place, random brushes here and there that seem to have lost their way back home, canvases stacked behind corners, just peeking out, and so many books about art she could start her own library. It's such a strange place, but lovely just the same, and living here makes me feel at home, with my blue face and strange new skin. If I didn't know better, I would almost think I could be a piece of art too, but then again, I am just a doll. 


After our trip the other day I was just a teeny bit hesitant about going back out into that big world, to be seen, to be laughed at and at first, after Arly said we would be going to an art gallery, I hid behind the record player hoping she would forget I was there. I used to do that a lot with my Angel Face, we would hide behind her bed, in her closet, or back behind the old shed hoping no one would see us. I always got the feeling she was hiding for real, because she was scared, but we never talked about it, at least not that I can remember right now. I didn't have that much luck with Arly, she seems to always know where I am. 


When we pulled up to the gallery I noticed that there were large windows and just inside, almost like a rainbow had burst all over the walls, I saw more colors than I had in my entire long life. It was beautiful! Arly had told me that no one there would laugh, that they would find me beautiful, and she was right. Everyone I met just oohed and aahed over me, which for a beauty like myself, made my head swell just a bit.

At the end of one of the counters, just past where I was standing, my eyes landed on the most fascinating pile of colors and fabrics. They were piled up and draped across a strange, stiff dog who must, at one time in his past life, have loved to parade around like a movie star. He was still doing a decent job now, even though he was acting all stoic and uppity. It made me laugh a little to myself because I had news for him, he was a dog! He was a dressed up DOG!

Once I regained my composure from laughing I couldn't help but place my hand gently on the fabric, which was soft and warm, and for a minute it made me think of my Angel Face's hair. When I thought about my own hair, and how much I had missing, I draped a few strands around my face and pretended I had beauty parlor locks that matched my "looks like the sky" complexion. I couldn't explain it, but I felt at home here, not like the home where I lived, but the home inside myself, the one that tells me I am whole and right where I should be. Time hasn't been my friend it seems, but this feeling, I prayed, would last forever. 


Arly told me her best friend knits those scarves, that's what all the fabric is, these fascinating, one of a kind, like me, scarves. And just as I was ready to bury myself in all of them, an eye caught my attention. Not just any eye, but one looking straight through my soul it seemed....

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