An Ode To My Wheel

 

At first, I was afraid of you just a little bit. I’d taken classes to learn how to use you, but I wasn’t sure you’d act the same as the other wheels. I mean, everything has its unique rhythm and character. Right? But slowly and quietly with a little soft instrumental music playing, we became friends. 

Sometimes, especially at first, I rushed you a little too fast and, well, the clay slipped off you onto the floor. Shocking, yes. But not your fault, obviously. I had to get to know you and learn to lean into you and trust. When I turned you to the left to center a ball of clay and turned you to the right to shape a cup or bowl, it was magic. 

We made many, many things together. Big bowls and small ones. Teacups and mugs. Even small sculptured “Party Animals” who helped get me through Covid. 

It’s not you, it’s me. 

I still love clay. And I’m still making clay sculpture and vases and other pieces using the slab method. But abdominal surgery made it too painful for me to sit with you and throw. Bending forward and pressing to center just didn’t work the way it used to anymore. 

But still you sat there stalwart, waiting quietly in the garage for me. Ready to move into action the moment I plugged you in. 

You’ve been there for every change I’ve gone through in the last 20 plus years. 

Helping me. Delighting me. Calming me. And most of all giving me a chance to right a wrong that happened all the way back in high school art class: when my ball of clay spun off the wheel and hit the wall behind me. You never did that to me. 

Now it’s time for me to let you go. It’s time for you to move on. It’s time for you to find someone, like me, ok maybe someone with more experience, to turn you on. It’s time for you to help transform chunks of messy mud into beautiful things again. 

Thank you for all the messy, gooey, luscious fun we had together.

Sigh. I’m going to miss you. 

Something from Nothing

I’m just going to write today. I need a way out of the downward swirl. I want to feel good about something and stay away from all the bad out there. If I were my eight year old self again, I’d be sitting in the corner of my closet with a book. 

Reading saved me as a kid. It was an approved way to spend my time on a hot summer day. Sitting in the shade, on the neighbors porch, reading Nancy Drew. It still helps me, reading a ‘cozy’ mystery. You know the genre’, where the female character solves the mystery, maybe with the help of a few friends, the criminal gets caught and they all go out to celebrate. 

Oh, how I wish the world really worked that way all the time. Don’t you?

Now instead of escaping into my closet or the next door neighbors patio, I walk. I take my grandson to the park to play.  I lean on the trees in the woods nearby. I bake with my husband. I make things out of clay. And I crochet with no pattern. 

Right now, I’m in the ‘finishing’ phase in the studio. This is the part that makes my nerves all jangled. It’s not just that it’s the end of the making, which I love, but it’s the beginning of the booming inner critic’s voice. You know what I mean?

“Oh this will never sell.”

“What were you thinking?”

“Who is going to want a sunflower with a face?”

“It’s not a perfect flower, you know.”

“This is does not look even close to a real bird.”

Yeah. My inner critic is a nasty bitch. I really should fire her. 

Believe me, I’ve tried. 

But she just keeps coming back to work. 

And she gets even louder when I’m filling out forms to enter a show.  

That’s my next step. One I dread, too. Filling out the application form. Downloading the images. Hoping that my iPad will cooperate with the venue’s computer. Then, of course, is the wait. Acceptance or Rejection? It always feels like I’m putting myself into a revolving door over which I have no control. 

Sigh. Why do I put myself through all this, you might ask? Good Question. 

 I love seeing things in the sky, the trees, the flowers and letting my imagination flow.  

I love clay. I love painting. I love making something from nothing.  

I do it because I love what I see. 

And, I want others to see what I love. 

And I think we all need to see more love around us.