art barbies, certain ethnics, and the enduring chill

It's Dyngus Day or something, which I didn't know about being a half-caste Polack, but I wonder how many people in the almost-hood are going to bust out their accordions in the rain tonight, though I'm sure lots of revelry might commence, though I'm going to skip all that to do art since it's been about two weeks since I've enameled anything.



Being that I was a weird child, I never really got into horses and Barbies. Nancy Drew novels and dress-up yes, but I wanted to be Boadicea because I read about her in a Highlights magazine and also a lot of Rosemary Sutcliffe novels that kind of glossed over the whole torturing prisoners/getting killed by the Romans bit.



My friend up the street was also a weird kid and we spent our summers taming the mass of flowering bushes, trellises and lilacs into our own play area/domain between having her dad take us to cemeteries and museums and Little Italy for gelato. When her other friend would come over, sometimes we'd play with her dolls but I never liked blonde and usually claimed her Princess Jasmine one instead, when we weren't having super-soaker fights with the boys around the corner.

I'm all for getting kids into art because art is awesome, and since these aren't as bimbotastic as other Barbies, I can't hate on it too badly except that it's just kind of corny and doesn't look that good.



Then again, it's also not as terrible as this. I've got my love of kitsch as much as anyone, but history's finest mementos that aren't Church In A Box don't really do anything for me.