trigger to sculpt stems mostly from that excited place where most
people go deep inside to create their babies. please do not misunderstand...
i do indeed know how babies are made...but thats exactly how what
i mean is meant. Ovarian sparks, monthly cycles...the urge to push,
not in that particular order. The courtship, is of course, the romantic
fantasy that leads to all the rest. Ink sketching seduces me to
obsess on rough sculpts, that eventually turn me on, to the desire
to see them again, to fruition. that drive to be around them day
and night and never to leave their side, begins the manipulations
in wet clay of 2, 3 even 4 of one head, each slightly more appealing
than the first...but the eyes are always saved for last."
sculpts original dolls, puppets, banks, and nearly anything that
can be personified into an historical harlot, harpie, heroine or
heiress. her weapon of choice is fire...2200 degrees and hotter,
secret recipe, handcrafted-stoneware clay body, is companion to
her compulsive tendencies to throw on the potters wheel, slab, hand
build and even hollow cast her one of a kind bébes, and perverted
puppets©. As coveted as her clay, are her glazes. All are handmade
using oxides & carbonates to colour and glycerin to taste.
kiln firing, finds lateefah assembling her hand crocheted wigs,
she custom dyes to match the clothing of a collector's particular
theme. the crinolines, frocks, stockings and underpinnings are all
needle sewn from antique laces painstakingly collected and acquired.
in-animates are given voice modulars, stuffed with heartbeats, dated
music, or stifled screams. All dollies are anatomically correct,
with soft leather torsos and straddle~able limbs. Figurines, reliquaries,
peggybanks© and girl-pressed tile, all stack up in her Kil
Studios, as she can rarely make one thing at a time. Into next year,
lateefah will be reworking her design of a ball jointed, swivel
head that has got her all thumbs.
sculpting, i am most likely to pop in a Todd Browning flick and
blast 1890s minstrel 45s and 10th century tarentellas at once...i
abhor a quiet studio, and bang on my piano when i get stuck or need
reprieve for a sec...the bloody thing is covered in clay and none
of the cords sound unless banged on like mad...my neighbors would
much prefer i knew midnight from noon...but i do not."
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