"There's no one in the world who knows so many stories as Ole Luk-Oie. He can tell capital histories." - HCA
I honestly can't recall my first memories of becoming enchanted with the story of Ole Lukoje, but undeniably, I can attribute the fascination with this magical little spirit, by the fanciful parasol or umbrella he holds above the sleeping nods of good little children. Oh! Wait a minute! Didn't I just spell his name differently than that in the translation offered above? Yes. You will find his name spelled many different ways, primarily due to the translator of the stories by Hans Christian Andersen. We know him most readily by the name of The Sandman.
In 1971, the rock group known as America, released a song called Sandman, but upon listening to the words carefully, it has very little to do with our magic sprite. "He rides the sky like an eagle in the eye of a hurricane that's abandoned." Well, perhaps that stanza of lyrics can fit.
I understand there was also a recent movie called The Sandman (2017). Some warped mind concocted this horror tale of a little girl who brings to life a monster from her nightmares, who brings harm to anyone who wants to hurt her. The only relation here is that the Sandman is the bringer of dreams.
But who exactly is Ole Lukoje? Here's another bit of trivia. You won't find his story in many, if any, of the contemporary books of HCA tales. And yet he's been around surely from the time Hans put these stories to paper. When I began researching for this project, I was hunting down a book that would have this story in it. Where I found it was in a much crumbling copy by McLoughlin Bros., first edition 1895. This illustration, titled A Christmas Eve Dream, was in the front of the book as an introduction for the story much further within of Ole Lukoje. I bought the book, read the story, and was much disappointed that it was only one of two color illustrations throughout the book. The other being the cover, which was of Snow White. Oh, do
confuse us more, please! Snow White is Grimm! The interesting thing about research is that the more answers you find, the more answers you seek. So, who is Ole Lukoje and what exactly does he look like? Let's get the truth from Hans.
"Towards evening, when the children still sit nicely at the table, or upon their stools, Ole Lukoje comes. He comes up the stairs quite softly, for he walks in socks: he opens the door noiselessly, and whisk! he squirts sweet milk in the children's eyes, a small, small stream, but enough to prevent them from keeping their eyes open; and thus, they cannot see him."
"When the children sleep, Ole Lukoje sits down upon their bed. He is well dressed: his coat is of silk, but it is impossible to say of what color, for it shines red, green, and blue, according as he turns. Under each arm he carries an umbrella: the one with pictures on it
he spreads over the good children, and they dream all night the most glorious stories; but on his other umbrella nothing at all is painted: he spreads this over the naughty children, and these sleep in a dull way, and when they awake in the morning, they have not dreamed of anything."
It from his "magic squirt" that the stream of sweet milk to cloud their eyes comes from. So, when you see something resembling a caulking tube or a hypodermic needle in Ole Lukoje's belt or hands, it's the magic squirt! I find all this terribly fascinating! With all the tales out there and all the many translations, and all the image interpretations, when it comes to bringing one to life in a doll, you might have to pick and choose aspects of what most appeals to you and what will bring the character to life for you. This illustration on the right is my favorite. I've had it in my archives for many years, and the beautiful parasol was the main and focal piece of my project.
Now I've indicated in prior posts that I've been working on parasols, and this was
the reason why. My first shot at it was with Cissy and her kimono for Cherry Blossom season. There was also a large one made with circus animals and acrobats for a friend's birthday. One with roses and butterflies as a gift for Easter and one for Ellowyne in Wonderland with Alice illustrations decoupaged on it from a book illustrated by Rene Cloke. I figured that by now I should know what I'm doing to replicate in some fashion, the glorious parasol held by the tiny imp in the picture above.
I've also been reading, for the first time, Tales from the Arabian Nights and these are just as fascinating in their many translations over time. But that is a blog for another time. However, the illustrations by Harry G. Theaker (1873 - 1954), to me, are the most rich and glorious of them all. And were perfect for the colorful
story parasol.
You will notice, when you peruse the illustrations I've attached below in this blog, that many story parasols had an Asian or exotic theme to them. I did include a mermaid for Hans though. This project was all about the parasol. It was the first thing I made, and this final version was my third attempt.
What works for one type of parasol decorating will be different for another. These are little paper parasols; the kind women often purchase for table favors at weddings. For Ole Lukoje's, I painted it with my brilliant alcohol markers. Then each tiny illustration was carefully sized and cut out and decoupaged on. The border is a bit from a Persian design copied over and over again. The parasol, since it is to remain opened, has been Mod Podged over for the final coat of decoupage,
sealing and shine. The stem and ribs were painted black and sealed as well. I think it took me two weeks to make this. And four months in the research, examples and planning.
For Christmas, my dearest friend, Betsy, sent me this precious, 8" Maggie Iacono doll. She was probably wondering what I might do with the doll, and here she has been turned into Ole Lukoje.
The first thing I did was re-wig the doll. Here, I learned something new. I had purchased this little, vintage blonde wig that was on a crackly plastic form. I was trying to get the mohair off the crackly plastic when I discovered that it was one long strand of curls, like fringe, wound round and round like hat braid. Actually, this turned out to be great since I could wrap the curls around the head for a perfect fit.
I can't stress this enough, but you cannot be afraid of ruining
a doll. Not when you're going to give it a complete makeover. You have to proceed carefully with curiosity and confidence. I guess I've been doing this long enough to have some of that, but when it comes to Maggie Iacono dolls, an extra bit of care in handling is required. These are wool covered, jointed dolls and very expensive. I haven't ruined one yet. Yet. Won't happen.
I chose silk from my stash that had the two-toned sheen to it made by weaving two different colors of silk thread together. Paying attention to Hans's description of the coat, I chose a raspberry and blue silk. The short trousers are a weave of yellow and mango. This way when he turns, the colors will "make-believe" change, as in the story.
I gave him a gold belt, the kind the little sprite wears in my favorite illustration. He also got a blue sleep cap for the same reason, but in a darker shade to bring out the blue in the parasol.
His cap is a fine velveteen lined in a similar shade of silk.
This might be a good time to mention his accessories, other than that of the story parasol. He carries his "dull" black umbrella in one arm and his magic squirt tucked into his belt. The umbrella is one that came from an Integrity doll. A male doll.
I can't tell you just how long I puzzled over this one umbrella accessory. I have other little working umbrellas that came out of China that were considered 1:6 scale - for Barbie sized dolls. This one is just a little bigger. Some have larger tips than others. Some have smaller curved handled stems. Selecting the right sized doll with the right sized umbrella took some work. I
refused to begin the project until I was certain I had the right combination. As it turns out, this black umbrella works as a wonderful stand or prop to keep the doll from falling over. It just worked out well in many ways. I was lucky.
I hadn't even thought about how the doll would hold the parasol up until the last. I was not giving up at this point. I simply sewed the stem to the wool covering the hands. Gently and with purpose of course. I used a thread that matched the wool then carefully blacked the thread over the stem of the parasol so it would not show.
Why do I always share the shoes last? Because they are generally the last thing I make. I thought about green shoes. I thought about adding a tassel or star to the tip of the sleep hat, too. But I chose to make the slippers from the same gold goat skin leather as the belt. And leave the sleep cap simple because seriously,
it's all about the parasol!
As I carefully place this crumbling McLoughlin Bros. book on the shelf among my other antiquarian children's books, I think back on all the research I did on this project. I found so very many bits of paraphernalia attributed to the Sandman, but the one I really wanted was just a picture on Pinterest. It was a hand-blown glass ornament, and I swear that if it ever comes up for auction, I don't care how much I have to pay for it. I must have it. These are the words and promise of a true collector!
In the illustrations and ephemera below, you'll see some of the various interpretations of Ole Lukoje. He is not as well-loved and represented in the states as he is in Europe and Russia.
In the mix are decorative plates, silverware for children, night lights, book covers, porcelain figurines, and what I would refer to as illustrations and paintings inspired by the story. For example, the first painting is of a child sleeping under a parasol very much like that in my favorite illustration of Ole Lukoje. Do you not find that interesting? In the very last image, there is a colorful umbrella over a bed. You can't tell me that this is not attributed to our magical sprite. I'm tickled by the illustrations that are more contemporary like the one from the 1960's.
I might also add that when you see the little boy, Hjalmar, being pulled through the picture frame, this is part of the story Hans told.
These are a selection from about 70-plus images I saved off the Internet. It's fun to know that I am not alone in my enthusiasm for Ole Lukoje, although when I speak of him, people look at me like I've gone half cracked. That's the life of an artist.
As Hans would say, Farvel! Melissa
