When I was a little girl I dreamed about having a Barbie doll. I adored the whole idea of Barbie, the prestige, the bling, the fancy dresses and the accessories in perfect pink! Sadly, I've never received a Barbie doll. Not because the adults were mean or ignorant, but because such dolls were inaccessible. You see, I was growing up in Poland during a time of deep communism, and anything that came from the West, from ideals to toys, was strictly forbidden. With few exceptions…

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If you had a VIP pass into Baltona, a fancy shop filled with capitalistic wonders, you could purchase all sorts of exotic items, like whiskey, cosmetics, brightly wrapped candies, or Barbies.  Those who didn’t mind to pollute their pure socialist spirit with these horrible western goodies had the time of their lives. Problem: no one could get in without proof of being a very important person - you had to be a member of communist party with a senator seat or above o a  a sailor. For the rest of us, the nonconformist land rats, foreign currency was forbidden and illegal to own. So, no Barbie. 

 

Years later when I was 35, I fell in love with a doll again. A rag doll! My fling with Barbie was over. I've glimpsed a picture of her on Facebook. She was a radically different doll. She had no eyes, no facial features at all, she was dressed like an old lady - an obvious offense to her stylish predecessor. She had a headscarf, aprons, and old fashioned dress. She wasn't even sewn together, just yarn-wrapped and tangled. She was magical, beautiful and she reminded me of something! She had this raw, pure and beautiful strength about her, she was wild and untamed and to me she looked like a gipsy princess. When I was 6 years old, every Saturday I dressed up like a gypsy princess (the way I imagined a gypsy princess would look), my mom’s skirts were my fancy dresses, her jewelry royal tiaras, and of course I had to have a flowery throw, an unmistakable attribute of every respectful gipsy lady. 

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So here I was in love again, and fate was splitting us apart, once more.

I just moved back from Europe to North Carolina, and the doll was all the way in Poland. I learned the dolls of this kind are called Motanka, sometimes Motanki, and there was ONE person in Poland  teaching how to make them. On-line classes were unavailable then, this was a pre-covid era and since the process of creating Motanka is technically complex, needs a personal intention, and has elements of auto-therapy, the teacher insisted on in person participation. I was 1000 miles away. I wanted to make my own gypsy princess so badly I decided that I had no other choice but to dive into the depths of the internet in search for schematics, tutorials, and anything that could bring me closer to making my own Motanka. It was surprisingly difficult to find any information. It was 2016 and back then Motanka was a novelty in Poland, almost forgotten in Russia and sporadically practiced in Ukraine. There was practically zero resources in English. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

YouTube came to rescue, I found Ukrainian ladies sharing their knowledge about Motanka in scattered videos. All this material was in Ukrainian and Russian, often without showing the details,  omitting steps critical for understanding the process. It took me 2 years of research to understand the elements that are necessary to ‘properly’ make a Motanka doll. With all that came an abundant library of history, tradition, and cultural approach to Motanka. The practice of making the dolls was so enrapturing that I kept making them for years to come until it was time to start giving them away.

 

Today, Motanka are making a huge comeback, and Eastern European shops on Etsy are filled with gorgeous dolls, intrinsically put together. My Motanka are still Gipsy-like. They are symbolic and true to the nature I first saw in them. They don't shy from splendor, bling and fancy clothing but they are at the same time simple, and purposeful. They are nothing less than magical to me, because every time I make them, their essence and wonderful loving nature comes to life. They bring something to offer to you, as their full authenticity often is reviled when they get to become your friend, guide and guardian. 

 

My dream is to make Motanka Dolls as loved (or more!) as Barbie dolls. My desire is to see a nation of Motanka makers, millions of fans around the world creating the dolls for themselves, for healing, joy, and creative explorations. Motanka can be such a powerful reminder of our ability to create our reality, to invoke self-love, and compassion. Lastly, creating a doll takes us into our inner world and our focus is no longer external but internal, then we get to explore the uncharted territories of our mind and heart.

 

Thank you so much for being here, my friend. 

I am looking forward to seeing your Motanka coming to life!

Happy tangling!

Pati