During the isolation of the covid pandemic, my daughter Bee and I escaped into her playroom, and into her dollhouses. We wallpapered the tiny walls with our own designs, made and painted tiny plates and bowls with clay, and sewed quilts and dresses for the inhabitants, a family of small bunnies and mice. It brought us immense comfort to stay busy with what felt like an endless project: like any other major renovation, it seemed that there was always more to do. Like so many of us, I felt fortunate for this time with Bee, especially at this moment in her life. I could feel her childhood ending and could see her beginning to turn towards other, more grown-up things. I knew that I was very lucky to have time stand still for just a little longer. At one point, after a particularly long painting session (the walls were white but not the “right” white), Bee looked at me and said “do you think these rabbits know how lucky they are?”
Lucky Rabbit is a celebration of the imaginary worlds inhabited by dollhouse dwellers and their minders. It’s also a scrapbook of sorts for Bee and I, and hopefully, others as well.