She sits waiting. This is the mesmerizing part. She did not exist. Now she watches and waits. I can turn off the lights, walk through the garden, pass by the bird feeders, call the dog and walk up the stairs. I can eat dinner, watch a movie, drink wine and go to bed. Next morning I will unlock the studio door and she will be sitting looking at me. ‘I’m here, now what’, she says.
I’ve started something. I can’t go back. This is the out of control part of creation. She wants more and I know this.
Here she is in pieces. It’s the eyes. She can already picture herself. This stage has to be short. No breaks. ‘Flesh me out’, is all I hear. I get to work.
I take a deep breath and hear her sigh. Now we can work together. I tuck a delicate floral rayon under her chin. Nothing. Then I scrounge around in the tulle and bunch up black netting, mocking up a crinoline. Hmmm. Soft rumpled lace, palest pink. She just sits there. We are getting nowhere.
We both take a nap.
I know what she needs. A little colour. Ah a little red wine. Diluted of course. She immediately sticks her face in it. My kind of girl.
Her legs were my idea.
Enough for today she says.