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.

    IAF Photostream
    All Valentines are One Valentine Remembrances Burning Beard by Rachel Pollack Dream of the Child Empress of Mars Everybody Knows C. Jane Washburn - The Child Empress of Mars The Animometer Remembrances The Long and the Short of Long-Term Memory Book The Black Dog Forever
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    A Taste of Interfictions 2
    • “Information is sacred. I don't remember why, or who told me. But I know that information is sacred, so I write it down, scraps of knowledge and observations. I used to write in leather-bound journals with elegant heavy pens, but my fetish for elegance has fallen by the wayside in my rush to commit everything to paper. Now I use cheap marbled composition books, purchased by the dozen. The pen is still important, though. It must write in smooth lines of black, not catch on the page. There is too much to capture.”
      From: Valentines by Shira Lipkin
    • “Every day for three decades, the abandoned house strains against its galling anchors, hoping to pull free. It has waited thirty years for its pipes and pilings to finally decay so it can leave for Florida to find the Macek family. Nobody in its Milford neighborhood will likely miss the house or even notice its absence; it has hidden for decades behind overgrown bushes, weeds, and legends. When they talk about the house at all, the neighbors whisper about the child killer who lived there long ago with his family: a wife and five children who never knew their father kept his rotting playmate in the crawlspace until the police came. The house, however, knows the truth and wants to confess it, even if it has to crawl eight hundred miles.”
      From: Remembrance is Something Like a House by Will Ludwigsen
    • “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
    • “I was not quite ten when Renata grew up out of my right shoulder like a second head. She was just a blemish at first, a smudge that looked a little like the state of Florida. Then she was a squashed spider mole, then she was a monster, a mewling, squirming mass of purple flesh that smelled like raw chicken, and then she was just Renata, my little sister, saying let me have the arms, Davy, I need the arms, my nose itches, please please please, give me the arms, so I can scratch my nose!”
      From: The Two of Me by Ray Vukcevich

    Click here for another excerpt

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