Doodad Collage

Entering Wonderland.

I chose to arrange the collage to show play as my two daughters, Elanor and Claire, see it. Their imaginations are incredible. When they play, they become part of their toys' world. That world is real. To illustrate this world, I picked Alice and the cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. This photo is courtesy of Lenny's Alice and Wonderland Site and is illustrated by John Tenniel. I chose this not just for Lewis Carroll's depiction of Wonderland, but also for how books frame and outline their play. It's magical to listen to. As a backdrop I used a flower pot to suggest that our creativity flourishes within boundaries, within limits. Order and creativity must mingle. If you have only order, there can't be freedom for creativity. If you have only creativity, you cannot make use of it or see it. They both need each other.



The fairy.



A container.


Elanor


Peeks, a doodad.


The umbrella, a doodad.


Claire, on the left.


This photo is courtesy of Lenny's Alice and Wonderland Site. Illustrated by John Tenniel.

Fairies: Through the Eyes of My Daughters

Where they live, in the tree next door.


Come in, Fairy.

6 Images of Doodads: on their own terms

This is how Peeks lives, in his box.



Peeks' hand.



How Peeks got his name. Likely from China.



Under the doll umbrella, looking up.



The top of the umbrella, looking down.



The umbrella collapsed.

My Subject: Doodads

Doodads fill my life: I trip over them; I search for them; I rescue them from the toilet; I clean them up several times a day; I wash them; once in a while I use them to entertain.

I call these toys doodads, because mostly they are not significant to me. But they matter to my daughters. And because they matter, these objects punctuate the events in my typical day. "Where is my wub?" "Open the umbrella." "Put on Polly's dress!"

For this project, instead of showing doodads interrupt my events as they typically do, I incorporated them into the actual event as participants. And in doing so, I discovered latent irony. For instance, it is funny to me that the Polly pocket, a toymaker's playful, sellable interpretation of womanhood, would be under my feet as I'm cleaning up dinner. Where is my fairy godmother when I need her the most? Another irony, Peeks the clown on the way to the bus stop: I am never laughing on the way to bus stop but hollering "Chop! Chop!" Would we get there faster if I laughed our way there? Most likely.

Lastly, I am struck by the beauty of these familiar objects. My favorite shot is the under "Event 2: Making pigtails in Claire's hair." This is the place where I do this. In the picture, I like the way the textures and patterns of the crocheted umbrella play with the eyelet curtain. That beauty mingles so unabashedly with the ordinary compels me to treasure more the seemingly mundane. I'm not sure there is anything mundane about raising three daughters. There certainly isn't when it comes to combing hair. Some of my most important conversations with Claire happen here. Her curious observations, insightful questions play with my questions and sometimes wisdom.

Ten Events

1. Waking up and feeding Baby Margaret.




2. Making pigtails in Claire's hair.




3. Running to the bus stop.




4. Laundry.




5. Finding Elanor's wub before her nap.




6. Working.




7. Helping Claire practice piano.




8. Making dinner while tripping over matchbox cars.




9. Cleaning up dinner.




10. Climbing into the shower.