There are dolls – and then there are dolls. And the magical creatures created by artists such as Nancy the Dollmaker render any arguments as to whether doll making at this level is “truly” an art or a craft simply beside the point.
A child of the Midwest, Nancy Whitcomb was born in Iowa and raised in Kansas. She studied drawing and painting at the University of Kansas in Lawrence, earning a degree in Art Education before moving to Connecticut, where she lived for years. In 2004, Whitcomb and husband, Bruce, moved to Sebastian.
Whitcomb’s journey into doll making was long, circuitous and full of creativity. Although a skilled painter, Whitcomb was never fond of the medium. “I didn’t want to let the paint take over, do what it wanted,” she says, preferring to take her artistic endeavors in a different direction. She found that direction while working as designer and manager of The Banner Guild at Trinity Episcopal Church in Hartford, a group that made “hangings and vestments for churches.” Whitcomb created original banner designs on a 1-inch to 1-foot grid, indicating each color and shade. Using felt fabric, Guild members would then cut the pieces and assemble the works.
Whitcomb leafs through a book showing the dozens of rich, colorful banners of all sizes, up to 5 feet wide and 18 feet high, that she created for Trinity over the years. They depict Biblical scenes, gardens, and people. During that time, the Guild also created banners for other churches as far away as El Salvador, Africa and Myanmar. Many contains Biblical passages, some in Greek or Hebrew; one banner depicts the women of the Bible; another shows Mary wearing several different ethnic costumes; and a large, amazing Jacob’s Ladder banner, with a number of small angels.
“Each worker [on the banner] had her own angel,” Whitcomb says.
At Trinity, Whitcomb also designed a set of needlepoint kneelers and an amazing, one-of-a-kind cope or mantle for Trinity’s pastor. She calls it “The Big Bang Coat,” because it depicts the sun and the planets at the moment of the creation of the Universe. Made of wool and silk, lined with gold cotton, it is a breathtaking creation.
The last series of banners Whitcomb designed for Trinity, The Tree of Life Series, was done after she had moved to Florida, and dedicated in the fall of 2009. She had always “wanted to work with the image of the Tree of Life,” and the series of 12 glorious banners, is, she says, “the culmination of years of preparation while designing other works.”
While still in Connecticut, but looking toward retirement, Whitcomb took doll making classes with friends, just for fun. “I started with frogs,” she says, as her sense of humor begins to show. “There was Sigmund Frog – he had glasses; and the ballerina frog, Natasha Frog-ofskaia. They were bullfrogs – big!”
She leads the way back to her workroom: a long worktable, surrounded by shelves of fabric and special tools, patterns, pots of “Darwi paper clay” for the faces.
Completed dolls are carefully wrapped in tissue paper; slender doll bodies with tall pointed hats poke out of containers like exotic flowers. On the floor is a large box, containing polyfiber stuffing.
Whitcomb reaches to a top shelf and lifts down a wonderful creature in a long, silvery robe. “This is my alien, “she says. “I made him around 1995. I started from scratch. He was the most challenging,”
The face is benevolent and exotic – green, with deeper green cat eyes; the headdress is made of feathers, in shades of cocoa. He has tiny, long fingernails, which Whitcomb created from plastic straws. “He is an extraterrestrial,” she says. “His name is KLK.”
KLK, she adds, has won several prizes, including top awards at the New England State Fair. “He won everything he entered,” she says.
There are little child dolls with mops of looped yarn hair, felt coats with delicate appliqued trim layered over dresses, bright shoes and knit sox, with matching skivvies. Mysterious mermaids in watery blues and greens, with seaweedy hair, shell hats and necklaces, diaphanous skirts, gaze serenely from round-eyed, fish-like faces.
An unadorned doll body rests on a stand, awaiting embellishment to shape its personality. This, says Whitcomb, will be a special creation for a major competition. She plans a warrior princess, with intricately hand-beaded, long leather coat, silky brown and purple-striped gown beneath, purple leather boots, a purple leather helmet, a marvelous spear or rod of some sort. She’s not sure about the hair yet.
Among the most fascinating features of these captivating creatures are their hands, with individual, long, curled fingers – very, very small, yet well-defined. Like the rest of the doll bodies, each piece must be cut out, stitched together, turned right-side-out and THEN – stuffed with polyfiber. How in the world does she do that?
“Very special, very small brass tools,” Whitcomb says. There is, she admits, quite a steep learning curve. Looking at those tiny doll fingers, it still seems impossible.
To complete one of her dolls, “I find I need 2-3 weeks,” she says. The work can be so intense and intricate, after a couple of hours, she will take a break and decompress.
Now retired in Sebastian, Whitcomb fills most of her time creating her dolls, which she does for fun, for specific competitions, for friends and relatives and for special orders. She also shows at various area festivals and shows, and she can often be found at Riverview Park’s events.
For more information: 772-388-1136.
