The Child Empress of Mars

by Laramie Sasseville, based on The Child Empress of Mars by Theodora Goss.

Starting with a wired gauze ribbon, I doubled it and sewed the lengths together so that the design from one side shows mistily through to the other, and I used a wandering crewel-stitch to secure the pieces together.To further the impression of heavy mists described in the story, I made lots of feathery structures with tiny translucent white seed beads and gold, garnet, & translucent-gold beads. One of the things I liked most about the story that inspired the piece was the way it had of making alien
things seem oddly familiar. So, hidden among the ‘mists’ are a lot of odd little things: round and faceted agates, freshwater pearls, fish, flower, insect, and bird beads of various sorts. The finished piece is approximately 16” long.

This piece will be auctioned off to benefit the Interstitial Arts Foundation at iafauctions.com

Tags: thechildempressofmars, theodoragoss, interfictions2auction, interfictions2, interstitialartsfoundation, interstitial
Uploaded: October 30, 2009
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2 comments

LaramieSasseville wrote...
I forgot to mention, in case it's not obvious: this is a bookmark, a bookmark fit for an Empress.

LaramieSasseville wrote...
Also: please check out my other work here: www.dreamspell.net/crafts/ Thanks!


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    IAFAuctions.com is part of the fundraising arm of the Interstitial Arts Foundation, a not–for–profit organization dedicated to the study, support, and promotion of interstitial art.

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    A Taste of Interfictions 2
    • “"Which is harder to get rid of: a wicked stepmother or a frog that insists you keep your promises to it?"

      That was last week's winning question, and all I can see in my head is the shocked, inconsolable look on the contestant’s face when she got it wrong.”
      From: Quiz by Eilis O'Neal
    • “The first time the Black Dog showed up I was five. We were living in Miriwinni and it lurked behind the low, chain link fence that marked out our backyard, hunkered down in the long grass filling the space between the fence line and the train tracks. No-one else could see it, not even my parents. It was good at hiding when other people looked.”
      From: Black Dog: A Biography by Peter M. Ball
    • “There's a red, ripe moon, like a berry, in the sky. Blood moon they call it, berry moon, I say. Juicy and full, that fat piece of fruit, makes me want to swallow it whole. A pearl of heaven's own blood in my mouth, and then... The sky surrounding my glossy morsel is brimming with purple champagne, foaming with stars. I wait for them to fall down and cover me in shimmering dust. Will it crackle and hiss when it touches my skin? Will it burn? Taste perhaps like ice and water, vanilla and nuts, when I lick it off my hands? It is my duty, you know, to eat it all up. "Greedy", you may say, but then, you still love me...”
      From: Berry Moon by Camilla Bruce
    • “My father's oldest brother was at the age when little boys fall in love with war. In the family's rush to get downstairs, no one noticed that he had brought his favorite hat into the basement, the one that superficially resembled the square czapka with the scarlet band of the Zandarmeria, the Polish Military Police. When the gun shots, the screams, and the smoke had cleared, the Germans discovered that their fugitive Polish soldier was just a ten year old boy.”
      From: Count Poniatowski and the Beautiful Chicken by Elizabeth Ziemska

    Click here for another excerpt

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