What is this thing and why am I doing it?

Simply put, it’s a dollhouse.

It’s also a literary thesis nobody asked for, as well as a diary of skillshare in the form of art tutorials. It’s a thing that helps me spark conversation with people in hopes of growing into a better, more empathetic human, and it’s my opportunity to invest back into the community. It’s a multitude of things that are just kind of developing into itself, and I have honestly no idea what it will become or where it will take me, but it’s something. And for the time being, it’s been extraordinarily positive.

This project started as a simple interest in miniature making in the thralls of 2020, spawned by a lot of Covid-induced indoor time. Since then, and with the help of so many strangers turned friends, it’s evolved into something a little bit more than that.

Southern Gothic is a genre that is a little difficult to pin down. It’s one of those things that has often been described as “if you know….you just know”, which has a lot to do with not just understanding the socio-political history of the Southern US, but the contextual details of what makes it particularly prone to romanticism…and how that romanticism, like any other, is subject to rot and decay. Southern history is obviously something we teach through textbook, but so much of its essence is best passed down through oral history, song, proverb, fable and art. If Southern history 101 is the left, more logical brain, Southern Gothic is the right, far more emotional one. And it’s got opinions.

For me, this project is about exploring all of the above, while using the dollhouse as a medium to communicate broadly what can be learned from looking at some of the key social issues that exist today through the lens of the decaying romanticism Southern Gothic is all about.

The house itself is designed to reflect a variety of Southern Gothic literary elements, themes and tropes, ranging from racial issues, to gender constructs, to sexuality, to food history, etc. As I dive into each topic, I open up broader conversation with my social media followers where can then collect personal stories, historical context, and literary references before distilling into visual representation and placing it directly into the structure. Each element is intentional, well researched, and honestly, just cool AF to look at, because what’s the point if it’s not interesting? However, the reason for it existing is not in the final product, but in the space explored prior to product—the time taken to think, learn and share.

By the end of the project, I hope to represent hundreds of details, coupled with solid references so the viewer can rabbit hole for hours into why things were designed the way they were.

What will I do with it when it’s all done?

I get this question a lot, so I’ll mention that here. I eventually plan on hiding the house in a secret room of a short term rental, where I’ll lead you to find it using a series of puzzles and histories. In the meantime, I’d really love to compile all of my learnings into a book so they don’t disappear forever should Instagram decide to shut it down, and to give myself an opportunity to support some Southern programs that exist to help the afflicted communities whom I’ll be representing. After all of that, it will be left to my grandchildren, like so many dollhouses have been done before.