Part of the lexicon of my family of origin is the phrase fluffy pillow. It refers to anything which is a perfect miniature replica of something else. Somehow or other one (or more?) of my sisters and I discovered as youngsters that we had in common the experience, during the hypnagogic state that can precede sleep, of seeing perfect miniatures float through our minds as compelling images, the eponymous example being a perfect miniature version of a fluffy bed pillow.
I’ve always enjoyed miniatures. How many of you might remember My Merry play sets from the 1950s?!
Perhaps that’s why I often paint small. I love me a fluffy pillow!
Today’s CutUp, if I were decorating a dollhouse with miniatures, would make an eye-catching statement piece in any one of a number of rooms—I see it as a small hand-hooked wool accent rug.
Step into the dollhouse living room with me, and have a seat on the divan. Let’s watch a child and her father.
I’d always loved this rug
with its border of cabbage roses.
When I was little, I would stand
on my father’s feet
and he would dance at my command.
“Hop to that flower, Daddy,” I would say,
pointing to a rose in the opposite corner.
He would jump to the designated flower,
and I would press against him,
wildly laughing. “Now that flower, Daddy,”
and he would leap again.
“Faster, faster,” I’d say,
and we would leap from rose to rose
as I clung to him, never wanting to let go.
—Bliss Broyard, My Father Dancing
3.5 x 4.5″; acrylic, ink, and collage on card stock
CutUp
2024
dottyseiter: now playing 
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