Young Charlotte lived by the mountain side,
A wild and lonely spot;
No dwelling there, for three miles round,
Except her father’s cot;
And yet on many a winter’s eve
Young swains were gather’d there,
For her father kept a social board,
And she was very fair.
Her father loved to see her dress’d
As prim as a city belle,
For she was all the child he had,
And he loved his daughter well…
I’m not quite sure when Charlotte first appeared for me. It may have been the one my mother-in-law gave me recently, or it may have started years ago, growing up in a house with an avid collector-of-all-things as a father. Dad collected penny dolls, doll castings, dolls with real hair, baby heads, maybe even Charlottes.
Frozen Charlotte, actually, a small, white porcelain doll, popular in the late Victorian era, roughly between 1850 and 1920, and forever linked through poem and song, to a ghost of a young girl frozen on her way to a ball in 1840.
From my life-long experience with ghosts and the heartbreaking tale of Charlotte, comes this series of sculptures involving Charlotte, her story reimagined for 21st century believers. Come see this new, haunting work during Bridgeport Open Studios, Friday, November 10 – Sunday, November 12.