About me
My name is Happy Herbert, and I have always loved dolls and dollhouses. I was an only child, and dolls were my siblings and companions. To me, dolls are no fun unless they have not only clothing but possessions, furniture, and a place to live. Would that I'd been born in the era of the American Girl dolls! At any rate, I managed to amass a small collection of dolls and dollhouses over the years. I first met Hitty in the early 1980's through an article in a doll magazine. At the time, Hitty (the original doll about whom the book was written) was missing. Looking back, I feel sure Hitty was just off on another adventure that simply wasn't included in her memoire as penned by Rachel Field. The article led me to search for the book, and I knew from the first reading of Hitty: Her First Hundred Years that some day I would carve a doll like Hitty for my own. Sadly, I knew absolutely NOTHING about carving.
When I picked up a Warren knife and applied it to my first wooden Hitty blank, I learned two things: I was nervous about cutting myself and birch is hard wood. It took me two years to finally carve out something from that chunk of birch that resembled (but oh so vaguely) the Hitty in my mind. I finished her on my own birthday in 2007. She was not pretty. No, not a bit. She had squared off edges and terrible facial angles. Poor Sunny, to this day, she has never left the house, other than to move to a new residence. Thank goodness that blank wasn't Mountain Ash, like the Real Hitty. I'd still be carving.
In 2009, I finally tracked down Janet Denton Cordell, Arkansas Master Carver. That year, I attended three workshops with Janet, one of those also being with her sister, Adina Huckins, and I purchased a decent carving knife. I also carved another four Hitty dolls that year, some okay, some not great. But I was learning.
At some point soon after my first workshop, I knew that carving was what I would do with my "second" life. I'd started sewing at age 5 or 6 and had sewn for my dolls, made cloth dolls from socks, learned to use patterns, and eventually went on to own a reproduction doll business where I made porcelain dolls and taught others to do the same. I also repaired dolls for a thriving antique shop. Dolls were in my blood, yet none of these activities
satsified me the way carving does. Carving lets me literally find the doll hiding in the wood and bring her to life. Every time, it's a miracle. I resolved to wait to sell my dolls until the sight of them would not elicit the comment, "did you see that ugly doll Happy carved?" That concern still echoes in the back of my head. I'm trying to ignore it. Now on Social Security and preparing to retire soon from my day job, I'm about to find the time to do what pleases me the most. In the past year, I've had several people look at my dolls and tell me that now is my time. I can only hope they are right.
One regret is that I didn't meet Hitty (and Janet) at an earlier point in my life so that I could have begun this journey sooner.
When I picked up a Warren knife and applied it to my first wooden Hitty blank, I learned two things: I was nervous about cutting myself and birch is hard wood. It took me two years to finally carve out something from that chunk of birch that resembled (but oh so vaguely) the Hitty in my mind. I finished her on my own birthday in 2007. She was not pretty. No, not a bit. She had squared off edges and terrible facial angles. Poor Sunny, to this day, she has never left the house, other than to move to a new residence. Thank goodness that blank wasn't Mountain Ash, like the Real Hitty. I'd still be carving.
In 2009, I finally tracked down Janet Denton Cordell, Arkansas Master Carver. That year, I attended three workshops with Janet, one of those also being with her sister, Adina Huckins, and I purchased a decent carving knife. I also carved another four Hitty dolls that year, some okay, some not great. But I was learning.
At some point soon after my first workshop, I knew that carving was what I would do with my "second" life. I'd started sewing at age 5 or 6 and had sewn for my dolls, made cloth dolls from socks, learned to use patterns, and eventually went on to own a reproduction doll business where I made porcelain dolls and taught others to do the same. I also repaired dolls for a thriving antique shop. Dolls were in my blood, yet none of these activities
satsified me the way carving does. Carving lets me literally find the doll hiding in the wood and bring her to life. Every time, it's a miracle. I resolved to wait to sell my dolls until the sight of them would not elicit the comment, "did you see that ugly doll Happy carved?" That concern still echoes in the back of my head. I'm trying to ignore it. Now on Social Security and preparing to retire soon from my day job, I'm about to find the time to do what pleases me the most. In the past year, I've had several people look at my dolls and tell me that now is my time. I can only hope they are right.
One regret is that I didn't meet Hitty (and Janet) at an earlier point in my life so that I could have begun this journey sooner.
