There’s one thing that’s helping me stay sane right now.
Mud.
Yup, mud.
Some people call it clay. I buy mine from a local clay company. But the components of clay are found in nature. According to Wikipedia, “It’s a natural product of the erosion of igneous rocks like granite and feldspar. It breaks down over millions of years into fine particles which collect in riverbeds, lake basins and coastal areas, where they are found as sedimentary deposits.”
So, yeah. It’s mud that’s been washed by rain and eroded by rocks. And it’s now in my studio in a nice, neat plastic bag. And I love opening the bag and slicing off a thick slab of it. Slapping it down, folding it over and kneading it into a ball or rolling it into a slab on my canvas covered board.
Then the fun begins.
My hands get muddy. My mind climbs into the backseat. And my soul sighs. I can make so many things from one chunk of mud.
A vase.
A face.
A bowl.
A bird.
A leaf platter.
These are finished pieces. Piece by piece, they’re rolled and stamped and shaped and painted and dried very slowly. But they all started out as a chunk of mud. So fun.
Then the work of finishing.
Today, I did a part of the process that’s my least favorite: glazing. Why is it my least favorite? I think it’s because it’s all about chemicals and precision: waxing, mixing, testing for the right consistency, dipping, catching drips and wiping. Then there’s the clean up. Ugh.
There’s also a lot of set up and clean up involved because my studio is inside my house. I have to cover the tables and floor, bring in buckets of water and towels and sponges. It’s work.
Mud, madness, and sanity.
Yes, it’s work. But it’s also play. Bringing out my childhood love of playing in the woods in the dirt. And right now, with all the dirt and scandal, the most powerful thing I can do for myself is play in the mud.
Try it. It might help. And you might find playing in the dirt is more fun than reading about it.
