Into this world, against her will, she was born. Bobbi tumbled and fell, got up and walked, with others on the same path.

Into this world, against her will, she was born. Jacki feels the fire. She burns it for fuel, kindling spirits.

Anya dreams to wake and wakes to dream. She weaves dreams with reality. She chooses a new world.

“My independent mind is ready for the puzzling truth.”

Black white and red. All the colours on her.

I stuffed her head with more and more and more. The thick ribbed cotton that holds her head together stretched thin, revealing every bump under her skin. The black form enjoys the company of a bright neutral red with white paisley. To the end of the slender red arms, is an open palm on the left and a fist on the right. Asking questions, questioning questions that’s only a glimpse of a days works.

Her name is Amy.

Alert and resilient, Greta speaks her mind and isn’t afraid of getting into the deep.

What’s with the hair? Seems to suit her just fine. The hair is screaming from a distance, stay away or die. Her t-shirt says ‘march on’. March alongside her, otherwise, bear the consequences.

Someone with rebellious streak is what I had in mind while making Greta. Her face has been unpicked several times (no, fabric surgery is not the same as plastic surgery), to express the wildness balanced with a sense of justice. I think she needs an iconic, if a little absurd, hairstyle, for her role as an activist.