October 16th, 2025, Issue # 98

What happens when the art doll is done?

Behind the curtain final touches

Howdie!

Happy Thursday!

Because every art doll deserves a proper home and a way to tell her history, giving birth to a new doll does not mean the work is done.

Once the form and personality are developed, three essential chapters remain: spreading her story, designing props that showcase her personality, and crafting permanent documentation, referred to as a certificate of authenticity.

What is a certificate of authenticity

and why does it matter?

If you’ve never encountered a certificate of authenticity, think of it as a bridge between artist and collector—a document that ensures the artwork’s origin is known and its story preserved. Picture Van Gogh's Starry Night lacking documentation. Van Gogh could have never imagined that, centuries later, his paintings would need to be proven authentic.

None of us do.

While Chatterleaf Sage may never find her way into the Musée d’Orsay in Paris, she deserves the same reverence—a paper trail proving her origin, materials, and maker.

When two passions collide, magic surfaces.

Bookbinding runs through my hands as naturally as creating art dolls.

It should come as no surprise that a few art dolls ago, I reasoned that the certificate of authenticity and a book could dance together; a storybook made about an art doll that could serve as the doll’s certificate of authenticity. The surface choices and binding techniques could echo the doll’s personality. A woodland Meday, such as Chatterleaf Sage might deserve a Coptic bound book with exposed threads mimicking vine growth. Narrative and certificate could merge, lifting authentication into art of itself, rather than paperwork tucked in a drawer.

For these reasons, this weeks’ time in the studio belonged entirely to Chatterleaf Sage.

Walking to the studio, windblown, twisted sycamore branches scattered on the lawn caught my eye. I gathered a handful not knowing their purpose but trusting they'd whisper their role eventually.

In the studio, my focus quickly began solving the puzzle of how to create a handbound book that would tell Chatterleaf Sage’s story and serve as a certificate of authenticity. I envisioned silk leaves as the book covers, imagining pages cut to mirror their veined edges. Then realized, their surfaces would be too small. The story wouldn't fit.

The solution emerged in the form of well constructed box that I had saved. It could become a clamshell box (the bookbinding term for a protective case housing precious volumes). The silk leaves could be draped over its exterior, while inside a traditionally bound book could rest. Those gathered branches could be attached to the box itself—creating a forest setting as Chatterleaf Sage's permanent home.

That is how it all began!

More than twelve hours later I am still working on printing pages for the book.

Why?

Formatting!

What I had not taken into account was the size of the clamshell box, 7 inches by 3 inches. The book would need to be no bigger than 6 1/2 inches by 2 1/2 inches, in order for it to fit inside. Once margins were set in place, not much space was left on a page to tell a story. Since a standard size paper measures 8 1/2 X 11 inches, I either printed 1 page per sheet of paper (wasteful) or figured out how to maximize the blank space of a page.

Like Chatterleaf Sage herself, every page I bind will be touched with love—a heartfelt dedication to her story and the enchantment that brought her into being. This is work born of passion and purpose. The greatest reward lies not in the promise of a fortune to be made, but in the profound joy of sharing her magic with the world.

Know someone who'd treasure her? Could that someone be you? Claim her before someone else does.

Bye for now,

Nora