By Delphine RL
Like anyone, I’ve been inspired by various people who helped me find my own self, sometimes in a good way and sometimes in a bad way; but, hey, in any case, it’s still something to build upon. Some of these people had an influence on me consciously and others unconsciously.
I remember a special teacher at the university where I studied Archaeology and History of Arts: Mr. Alexandre F., whose specialty was Ancient Greek ceramics. This man could make a course so fun that it would be impossible for anyone to forget what he taught during the session, especially when he explained how Ancient Greek ceramics were made while talking about the “Pintade au chou” recipe (guinea fowl with cabbage)! This man was amazingly talented in his area of research, skilled in pedagogy, and he was also always available for advice or explanations.
He was instrumental in helping me understand I could do good things, so much so that he actually helped me to feel confident for the first time about my way of thinking, of considering life: “Oh my God, my logic and thoughts are valid? Yay!” My blood pumped from the intensity of enthusiasm and joy I had found there.
Then, I encountered several teachers whose behavior was not alright at all:
One didn’t ethically respect body boundaries with students: one-to-one sessions were extremely uncomfortable, but he was my advisor;
Another stole my materials and connections to start field work without me—I had hoped to work with him or in his department when I met him, memoir in hand, to show him how I worked in my field and the people I had met;
A last one, in Fine Arts, traumatized me so much with their critiques of my choices and drawings that I spent one year without touching a pencil, so convinced that I could only make shit art if I chose to draw.
It was now time for darkness to run through my veins into my heart and brain, and slow down the pulse of joy and enthusiasm.
These men made me lose most of the confidence I had acquired with the genius Alexandre F., and I thought: if these people act like that, it must be my fault and my inability to perceive people. As a result of that poor judgment about myself, I couldn’t trust anyone institutional for years….
Until I crossed the path of a truly great person. I could say she was a true Lady, because of the nobility of both her heart and her deep sense of ethics, as well as her ability to laugh and find the humor in life: Barb Kobe, the mentor you’d want to learn from.
Through her Healing Doll Way process, I learnt that I was worthy of existence, worthy of utility. Thanks to this artistic method, those involved in this process of imagining, feeling, and creating dolls can dive deeply into themselves and become more aware of their true identity, overcome traumas, and be able to take the next step in their lives. Each doll is a story told and a story told is a wound on the way to healing. For me, a Doll Maker is a Storyteller, and a Storyteller is a person who chooses life, who chooses to reconnect, who chooses to live connected to the world again.
It took me three years with Barb teaching to be able to start to accept myself and my creativity as valuable. I became a Doll Maker and a Storyteller at the same time due to the reconciliation she helped create inside of me. For me, to be a Doll Maker and a Storyteller is to imagine stories so that they can be expressed through the making of art. Each doll and each story tells who I am and who I want to be; by sharing my dolls and my stories, I allow myself to be part of this world, proudly, fiercely, and according to my heart, body, and soul.
I am not sure that Barb Kobe knew how powerful her presence, spirit, and artistic perspective as the second milestone I needed to rebuild myself: her humility being what it was, she could say “You found your inner resources.” True, but still… And with her way of being inspired by everything around her, without any cultural or social judgment, she planted seeds of true awareness in me, without my conscious knowledge, as a part of my mind was secretly tiptoeing on my true path, totally unaware.
It was at the end of 2018—and these seeds would only sprout in 2023—after I went back on making dolls and writing stories, after a double crack in my life, during which two things happened:
First, I was forced to move out sudddenly from my perfect house close to the woods to the omnipresence of concrete in a city, a kind of prison for me. Second was the bloody mess that COVID had initiated, as I could no longer be alone to create and had to stand by my family to go through this crisis together.
Five years and a lot to learn. But sometimes I’m a bad learner and I resist opportunities to grow….
That is why I had to meet two other wonderful mentors, equally humble and skilled as Barb Kobe—Lewis Mehl-Madrona and Barbara Mainguy—who taught me how to use stories and arts to process and heal.
From my perspective, I received the thought that the wonderful power of traditional or contemporary tales and stories is within every moment of our lives: with an open mind to self, fun, people and nature connections, many of our resources, answers, and guidance are reachable, and you can find a shortcut if you combine it with artistic expression. Simple.
Let’s do that and… be patient. This is not my strong suit, I must say!
But it was indeed a perfect match with my inner Dollmaker, who was stamping inside my heart and mind at the same time, ready to express herself again. All I had to do was to accept both—because it was so accurate for me—and then leave room for what could emerge from this association.
All these magnificent people built strength within me, stone after stone, letting my structure breathe during the process until I could build the rest alone, because I could allow myself to feel what was just and vital to my existence: the last piece to possibly feeling whole.
It’s at this moment that I remembered another mentor I had all along, tiptoeing in my heart and mind.
His name was Lestat de Lioncourt. This character was born from Anne Rice’s imagination at the end of the ’70s book series, The Vampire Chronicles. I was lucky to find a very good translation and her words caught me immediately, as a 14-year-old teenager who had a few experiences with girls and boys before a social auto-oblivion…
Yes, I know: a fictional vampire ? LOL, you could say.
But, he was so free! He went through deep stuff and rose anyway, enjoying everything he could in his path. He never gave up, he “lived” what he could and always stayed enthusiastic about everything and everyone, without shame or judgment. He was the only bisexual example I had and he was strong, fierce, joyful, curious, ambitious, sometimes naïve, sometimes unfair, but at every moment of his second life, he stayed true to himself no matter what. I even sometimes forget he is a he, because to me, he knows nothing about gender barriers, stereotyping limitations; he just feels what he must and goes where he must, and I always admired him for that. I still do.
Today, I wonder if this character was in fact working for me in the background, to prepare me to remember one day, when I was ready, that it was OK to be myself—he never let go of this task. But at some point, I find myself thinking that Lestat may have had to find some help, putting Barb, Lewis, and Barbara on my path, so I’ll learn to unveil all the scenes that were intertwined before my eyes for so long.
When I think of it, that is a hell of a team! But I was blessed we ran into each other, saying to darkness to go f… itself and to welcome good, tasty blood to flow at its own convenience. 😉
Delphine RL—Imagination worker, Dollmaker, and Storyteller. She loves to find her stories by meeting people and being immersed in nature, especially by the ocean, in Brittany, France, where she lives.