The Child Empress of Mars

by C. Jane Washburn, based on The Child Empress of Mars by Theodora Goss in Interfictions 2

15" tall x 12" long Art Doll – Mixed Media: wire, tape, polyclay, semi-precious stones, found objects, fur scraps, silk, acrylics.

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

Tags: interfictions2auction, interfictions2, interstitialartsfoundation, interstitial, doll, dollcraft, theodoragoss, thechildempressofmars
Uploaded: November 4, 2009
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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
    • “This is a story about a man who ties a woman to his bed. No, it's not what you think, he says. Please understand. But how can he explain? All those nights his wife turns into other things. Would anyone believe him?

      He should have known the first time he saw her, he thinks: her waves of dark hair spilling down her back, her torn jeans, her look of fuck you too, her scent of wet leaves, sweat, and dirt. It made him horny. What else can he say?”
      From: The Marriage by Nin Andrews
    • “He was in Sanara when the debris of the dead monster began to wash ashore the next day. Broken crates, and bottles with a strange curved script on them, so different from the Europeans', and shoes. He remembers the shoes best. There had been no bodies, and he thought then that it was better that way, that the soldiers inside that metal hulk were better off left in the sea as they had lived.”
      From: Shoes by Lavie Tidhar
    • “Work dried up after the crash. My magazine folded, and the creditors came around demanding the office furniture and telephone and rent. They got one chair, a cancelled stamp, and a hundred and twelve copies of the second edition of Honeypot which didn't sell as well as the first. "And why should it?" Betsy asked. "Nobody's into poetry. Especially in the language of bees. They could be saying anything."”
      From: For the Love of Carrots by Kelly J. Cogswell
    • “My Obstetrician has four heads.
      She stands in front of me, arms crossed, tapping one foot.
      She only has the two feet.
      We are in Evanston, a socially-politically-ecologically aware suburb of Chicago, and she wears sensible shoes, expensive clogs and natural fibers to draw the eye away from the four heads.”
      From: Afterbirth by Stephanie Shaw

    Click here for another excerpt

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