Here's one I didn't make earlier... by Keren David

 I wrote a more polished version of this post earlier today...and then,  when I remembered to post it, couldn't find it anywhere. Vanished! 

So, take it from me, I had some interesting things to say about going to see Barbie and being powerfully reminded of what it was like to play with dolls -  mostly with my friend Hilary L who now lives in the north of Scotland but who I happened to see last week - how we consigned Barbie and Sindy and Ken and Action Man to boring adult roles (mainly domesticated parents) and instead concentrated on creating adventures for the doll who looked like us, who was called Patch. (And now I'm wondering who came up with that name).  Hilary and I reminisced about my doll Tressy who someone (OK, it was me)  inflicted with a terrible case of blue measles, sadly indelible and 'cured' by pale pink enamel paint which peeled and blistered alarmingly. Not so much Weird Barbie as Zombie Tressy. 

 Never mind the gender politics, what I loved best about Barbie was the many clever things it had to say about play -  how children play and how they reject playing when they become teenagers, how mothers can see play as a way to be close to their children, and to reconnect with their own inner feelings and creativity. Plus I enjoyed the sheer universality of the play experience - especially when the Kens broke into pretend horse-riding mode, which reminded me of my other friend Hilary T who, I swear, spent 1968- 73neighing and cantering around Welwyn Garden City. 

Playing and playfulness is so often lacking in adulthood, and was very much what I tried to create when I taught creative writing classes. And that's another thing I was reminded of last week when I went to an intensive course in mixed media collage at City Lit -  held over four evenings in a week, a wonderful birthday present from my friends Yvette, Nicky and Laura.  I was the complete novice in a room full of  artists (check out the instagram account @ravingpoet64 to see just one of the amazing talents in the room) and at first I was daunted and completely lacking in confidence. Luckily our teacher, the artist Simon English was superbly encouraging -  and then I realised that the works I made on the first evening totally reflected the feeling of  frustration that I also remembered from childhood art classes. Here's one example. 

 

The next evening was easier, as we were working with books -  and once I'd identified a book that I didn't mind carving up, I enjoyed creating a 'Book of Secrets' immensely. The next night I worked on a picture based on a photograph that I'd taken on my way to work one day. 

Before the fourth and final evening I remembered that I'd had some Japanese origami paper in a box that was stored on top of the freezer. I couldn't reach it, but my six foot 23-year old son got it down for me. And when he did I saw that I'd actually prepared for this course about 15 years before. In the box were folders of papers and pictures, postage stamps and sweet wrappers -  all there to make collages with my children. Who are now grown up, and not especially interested in art at all.
I thought of Barbie, and the mother played by America Ferrera and how (SPOILER) she starts to create alternative Barbies once her daughter seems to have outgrown both dolls and her parenting. 
And then I picked up some of the folders and headed for class and made a zillion things...

And I intend to carry on!