A Day Without Clay.

I had errands to run. Lots and lots of them. Why? Because I’ve been too busy playing with clay.

Monday, I just had to trim those pots I threw last Thursday and add the sculptural elements to the bowls.

Tuesday, I was teaching a great group of kids to make faces, yes, out of clay.

Wednesday, I was in class finishing a round jar to go in the kiln, making an oval bowl and learning to pour slip on greenware.

Thursday was a throwing day. My biggest porcelain bowl to date and the lip did not cave. Yeah! And I experimented with new mug shapes. I like the one I did last the best. It has wonderful curves. After I cleaned the mud off myself, I went back into the studio and waxed out the leaves on a set of mugs and a bowl I need to glaze.

Friday, all those errands demanded to be done. Driving back and forth doing the shopping, sitting in bumper to bumper traffic, I got cranky. But it took me awhile to realize it wasn’t just the freeway blues that was getting me down.

It was a day without clay.

So, ok. I admit it.

My name is Susan and I’m addicted to clay.

Where is she? A real-life mystery.

(Next Monday, I'll post another installment of this true life experience.)


She was stuck. Even though she was surrounded by a crowd of people, no one could help her.

There was one person. One person she wanted to call but surrounded as she was, talking on her cell into the silence of the tightly packed crowd, seemed like an invasion of privacy. Hers and theirs. But really, she felt embarrassed to do what she really wanted to do. Pull out her phone, dial 911 and shout, “Help!”

But it was not an emergency. She looked around. No one whipped out a cell phone. In fact, no one moved at all. Everyone stood stiffly, mostly silent save for the low giggle of the girl in the corner to her right, but she wasn’t sure if that was a nervous reaction to the situation or her boyfriend. And, somehow, she didn’t want to know.

Unbuttoning her coat in spite of the winter weather, she looked up toward the whirring sound above her head and thanked the gods. She was alive, breathing, thirsty and grateful for the free soda taken from the table outside the room. Sipping was calming

How long would she be stuck here with all these strangers? She sipped slowly and stopped saving a half an inch of soda in the bottle. Reaching in, she touched the two chocolates in her coat pocket, but didn’t eat them.

Was it survival instinct or fear? She didn’t know. But stuck and surrounded by 11 other people, she didn’t want a feeding frenzy to start over two small heart-shaped candies.

Lioness on the prowl in Seattle.

http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
I love cats. My very first cat was Bartholomew Jones, a big, fluffy buff colored male who chose me one day at the Oregon Humane Society. That day I was rather taken with a very pretty Siamese, but Bart just kept following me around until I finally picked him up. That was it.

Bart taught me to love cats and I’ve lived with many over the years. And it’s inspired my art as well. So when I heard about a Seattle gallery with a show calling for cat faces, I entered the ‘Lioness'.

Fictilis Gallery in Seattle, Washington is showing a multitude of cat faces in many media for the month of February including my ‘Lioness’ mask.

Lioness is sculpted by hand from window screening and painted with layers of acrylic paint. You can wear the ‘Lioness’ as a mask or hang it on the wall as an art piece either indoors or out. The material is strong and doesn’t rust even for years outside. And the transparency of the screening allows you to wear the mask, look like a Lioness but still be able to see all everything around you.

I love cats, and I respect them, too. They are graceful and powerful creatures. Check out the show at Fictilis at 210 S. Washington Street in Seattle, Washington or take a look at the online pictures here.

Cracks, breaks and repairs: Lessons in clay and life.

Clay is tough and delicate. One day coils stick, slabs stay together and pots hold their shape perfectly. Other days, coils crack, slabs slump and pots break.

Sometimes, a cup looks perfect but breaks in the glazing process. I’ve had red glazes turn brown. Glazes crack, bubble and slide off the side of the bowl.



My gingko leaf bowl handles were tricky but they stayed on until it was time to bisque it. Then for some reason, one handle broke off. So, I put it back on again.


My big question is always, “Why?”

Is it because the weather is too dry or too wet? Is it because I’m working too slow or too fast? Is the kiln too hot or the glaze too thin? Questions need answers, don’t they?

Maybe not.

Maybe there’s no why but what. The what: clay today and the weather both inside me and out.

It’s accepting that life is like that: success and failure, strength and weakness. Sometimes things in life crack and break and need repair. Sometimes cracks and breaks need to be accepted as part of the process, as life. And letting myself see the beauty there, cracks and all.

Clay Play Day.

One thing I notice, when I’ve got my hands in, on, or around clay there are no questions or answers. I’m in the moment.

There is no good clay day or bad. Just clay. And when my hands are moving, my mind is not.

(Ok, this was a 'mistake' that wound up being a fun spoon holder)

There is a stillness that sneaks in and wraps itself around my monkey mind like a soft, warm blanket.

There is peace inside. Outside there is rolling, pinching, pulling and centering.

The wonder of winter.

It snowed today. Here in Portland, snow is major news. Schools close. Traffic snarls. Many people panic. Not me. Born in Michigan, I grew up with white winters. I loved it. I still do. So here I go, with an ode to snow.

Whispering down to the ground, traffic hushed.

Big, feathery, white frozen rain drops floating and twirling.

Black asphalt streets covered in a deep, plush, squishy white carpet showing where every foot has fallen before and after mine.



Ferns fronds bend, rocks hide and creeping thyme freezes in time.



Robins hop across the melting snow looking for food.
And reminding me that after the wonder of winter, is spring.

New Year’s Lesson #1: Success isn’t about perfection.

I made a New Year’s goal to fire up my kiln and try glazing my own pots and sculptures for the first time. I’ve done bisque firing but never glaze firing. So this was an adventure for me into the unknown on my own. The feelings: scary and exciting. The results: surprising.


Two porcelain bowls came out great. The glaze was smooth and rich with just a little bubbling inside one of the bowls. The other bowls are a different story. Both were stoneware clay with matte black on the outside and gloss red and purple on the inside. The insides came out nice and smooth but the matte black was a big disappointment. It was a dull black instead of a satin black and there was some pitting too. Not pretty.

I had about 6 cups, all stoneware clay except one. I poured the glazes inside each one in red, purple or white and then painted the glaze on the outsides. Again the matte glaze, this time white, was a big disappointment. I put it on the outside of two of the mugs and it looked dull and felt rough. Unless I can put a clear glaze on top and refire them, I can’t see using them. They’re so rough; I wouldn’t want to drink from them.

My two sculptural faces were another surprise. Good and bad. One was red and white marbled clay. I used only two oxides and no glaze. The color came out as I expected, but the forehead has a slight crack. I can fix it but I’m surprised because I’ve used these oxides before with no problems. The only difference here is the clay. The other face, yet another clay body, I layered oxides with two different glazes. I wanted a depth of color and patina. I got 3 cracks, dark color with some metallic highlights.


Yesterday, I was relieved and disappointed. Today, I’m determined and inspired.

I faced my New Year goal and glaze fired on my own. I learned what worked and what didn’t. I found some new glazes to try in place of the matte black and white. And I thought of ways to use the cracks in the sculptural faces to add to the piece.

The results were far from perfect but I did it anyway. That’s success all by itself.