Growing Collections

I was raised in a tchotchke family and have been friends with plenty of collectors in my lifetime and career. Most acquired books, some china, memorabilia from their youth and/or travels, jewelry, and many, many figurines.  Plenty of us have been hoarders of textiles and other creative media, too.

My mother went through a porcelain doll-collecting phase in her thirties and forties, most purchased from the Franklin Mint, and none from Marie Osmond. I had Japanese and Thai dolls growing up thanks to her father, a diplomat, and I was given a sweet, soft Eskimo/Indigenous doll made by my Inupiat grandmother, Aaka Ruth, that I cherished until I made the mistake of taking it to school with me for show and tell. The doll was taken from my student bin while the class was out at recess, and I never saw it again.  Aaka and my mother gave me more dolls, some with carved bone faces and some with embroidered hide and fur clothing. I loved the miniature parkas, mukluks, kuspuks and mittens of the dolls, and similar dolls and indigenous art have continued to catch my eye in shops and museums. 

This summer wasn't filled with extra work at school, unexpected surgeries, or travel, so I crocheted a lot, read and reviewed picture books, muddled around in the greenhouse, rethought some organization at home, and enjoyed the slower pace. I visited a few thrift stores and antique shops, and unexpectedly came to the realization that I missed the Eskimo doll of my childhood. Ebay sellers had some extremely affordable dolls available in June and July, so I treated myself to a few (pictures below are of one that I did some mending on), and then, out of the blue, something told me to search my Aaka's name.

None of her dolls appeared, but a pair of her slippers did.  Well worn, their owner sold and shipped them quickly to me, and within a week, I had a piece of her back again. I sent the seller a private message explaining who I was and why I was so pleased to have her handiwork and included a photo of us both taken around the time when he likely purchased the slippers from her at the World Eskimo Indian Olympics two decades ago. He graciously replied, also with a photo, letting me know how he and his wife, both educators, had traveled to Alaska and met my Aaka at WEIO, and how the slippers he had purchased for himself had become completely worn through, so he threw their remnants away. His wife stopped wearing hers in order to keep them intact, but because they were both moving to live in elder housing they were whittling down their belongings as much as possible, which is why the slippers were listed on eBay. "You were meant to have them."

I believe it.

Here are the slippers, with their well-rounded toes, and seal appliques:

                     

One of the dolls I received this summer needed to have its mitten strings replaced and repaired, which I took care of this morning:

I wasn't worried about finding matching yarn, but I was able to find embroidery floss in a color that blends in nicely with the fabric so that I could attach the mitten strings behind the hood to keep them where they belong.

Take a peek under the kuspuk- there's fur clothing and beadwork beneath.  The fur is shedding quite a bit, so the doll probably experienced heat at some point.

Though there are pin-prick holes in the fabric that I've decided to leave, she can now keep another doll I adopted over the summer company.

I've collected nesting dolls for years, but this set has been one of my favorite finds.

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Do you collect?