Showing Up.

  

As an artist and writer, I thrive on quiet. Looking out the window. Staring at the sky. Watching the dogwood bloom and the birds fly by. Today, I saw a pair of geese herding a large brood of fuzzy goslings from the grass into the lake at the park. 

These are small, everyday things in and around us all. Things I know we see but maybe, don’t see. Like flowers and leaves and birds, they’re all part of our daily life. But somehow, they stick with me and show up in my studio. 

Flowering. 

When I pick up a lump of clay, I don’t always know what I’m going to make. I’ve made many vases, bowls and plates but in the last year or so something has changed. 

One day, I rolled out clay and out came a face. I wasn’t sure why or what it was going to be, so I set it aside. Another day, I walked into my kitchen and saw a vase of sunflowers. Next thing I knew, this is what appeared in my studio. 

Then, on a walk I collected oak leaves. And this appeared. 

Another day, I bought some poppies. And this showed up.  

On a fall walk, I picked up some of my favorite ginkgo leaves. And this happened. 

And they all seemed to have a ladybug nosing around. I do love ladybugs. 

Now what?

Shelves in my studio began to fill up with flowers and leaves and ladybugs. Some had faces and some were just birds or orchids or tulips. I thought the bigger ones could look nice on a wall. But the squares seemed to need something more. 

But what? 

I finally figured out that a frame was needed. This is definitely not my are of expertise, so I asked for help. My daughter in law had the idea of shadow boxes. My clever husband figured out how to mount and hang them. 

And it all worked! 

Now a few of them are on their way to a local show. 

Who knew that a sunflower, some leaves and a ladybug would show up on a wall?

Thank you 2025 Word of the Year: Thrive

 

I’ve had a hell of a few years from 2022 to 2025. Here’s a recap:

2022 - 4th of July flood in my house, damage took a year to repair. 

2023 - My husband got laid off. We lost income and health insurance. It took 6 months for me to get Social Security and Medicare. 

2024 - The year of Misdiagnosed Illness that ended in major surgery to repair. 

2025 - Recovery from surgery both physical and emotional. Didn’t know about PTSD

But I’m here. I survived. And that’s why I picked Thrive as last years word of the year. 

Because I wanted and needed and hoped, now I’d be able to Thrive, not just survive.   

And I did. 

It wasn’t easy or fun. There was still pain and physical limits. And after I worked my way through all that, I got hit upside the head with trauma. Now, I’d had surgery before: 2 C sections, 1 broken wrist, 1 skin cancer removal. But none of them hit me like this surgery did. Every little twinge sent me into the fear zone. 

And I understand it now, thanks to support from others who’ve been through it. And books about it. And, most importantly, thank you, my  Substack friends who have been down this rough road ahead of me and were here to shine a light for me to see by.  

Art as therapy. Throwing is out. 

After the surgery, I couldn’t do my art the same way anymore. I used to love throwing clay on the wheel. But it uses my abdominals and it was very uncomfortable. I had to let it go and move on. Honestly, now I know, it was time anyway.

I was gifted a wheel and kiln from a wonderfully supportive couple decades ago. They loved my copper work, saw my clay work and gave me a huge gift. I was a failure at throwing in high school. (Cue embarrassing clay incident: clay sailing off wheel and hitting the wall behind me. WTF) Yeah. I went back to ‘school’ and learned to throw. I even sold it at shows and galleries. 

But I’m not a production potter. What I truly love is sculpture and faces and masks. And over the months, my surgery recovery led me back to where I’d began. I didn’t realize it at first. I was just ‘goofing’ around and trying to do whatever my body would allow. 

Relief.

It all started with doodling. When I was still unable to do much, I was gifted with a set of sparkle gel pens and a drawing pad. Some days, all I could do was doodle. Maybe swish some watercolor paints around. And crochet. 

But I worked my way back to my studio. I had a little clay left, so I rolled it out and played around. Here’s what found me: drawings and watercolors coming to life in clay. What a weird idea, right? 

I made one, then another and another. 

Then a face appeared. It sat on the shelf, alone. Until one day, I looked up at the sunflowers in my kitchen and got an idea. 

Soon, in addition to the sunflower, a poppy, gingko and oak leave reliefs appeared. 

I’m not sure how or where I’m going to be able to show them. But I’m hoping  somewhere, somehow, someone will help make it happen. 

That these new pieces, along with me, will thrive. 

Fun Moves

 

My word of the year is Move. I picked it because with all the physical and emotional challenges thrown my way last year, I really felt the need to move on. Maybe the truth is I was desperate to move away from all the pain, shock, and fear that dominated my life last year. 

I’ve learned it takes more time to heal than I thought. I’m not a patient person. But looking back, I can see I am moving forward and healing is happening. 

Making is fun. 

I love to make things. Working with my hands is calming and centering and, well fun too. I’m grateful for the chance to create almost everyday. It doesn’t have to be a work of art, either. Baking cookies. Crocheting hats or blankets or pillows. Even making a flower arrangement is fun. 

My husband found his fun this week, too. He’s been building a radio controlled plane! I’m so happy to see him having fun putting together this complicated working plane. 

This week, I had a new idea I wanted to make out of clay. Don’t ask me exactly what they are because I’m not sure what to call them. I just saw it in my mind’s eye and let my hands do the work. I started out just making one but before the week was out, I’d make three. 

Moving from pain to play. 

I’ve still got some health issues to resolve but it’s moving along. At last, I see a bright, sunny light at the end of this difficult tunnel. And I think one of the most important factors in getting well is finding something to do that’s fun. 

Clay is play for me. It’s soothing and quiet and soft. And creating something new from a slab of cool clay is, well, just fun. 

Moving through change is a challenge

It takes time, day by day

To find a way to play

To discover some new fun moves. 

To do or not to do

 

This is the question going through my mind lately. With life changes and health issues, I’ve had a lot to absorb and process these days. One of the main things I’m thinking about is my art and how it’s changed over the years. My first gallery show was in 2000, where I showed masks sculpted out of window screening. Yup, the kind of screening you buy at the home improvement store. 

From there, I made and showed screening or clay masks in boxes that contained a copper repose landscape and a story that tied all the pieces together. Some were free standing and some hung on the wall. 

A gift that changed my art and life.

During an open studio years ago, a very sweet couple came to see my art. They had bought one of my copper masks and spotted some of my clay sculptures. Wondering why they hadn’t seen these in the gallery, I told them I only had a few because without a kiln, I was only able to get the pieces fired by a kind art teacher. They then offered me their kiln and insisted I take the wheel they had, too. 

That led to a few years of clay classes where I learned to throw and glaze. And after that, throwing became my biggest focus. I threw and showed and sold mostly functional pieces: mugs, bowls and vases. A few sculptural pieces snuck in but not a lot.  

Now what?

That’s the question I’ve been asking myself a lot these days. With all the life and health changes throwing just doesn’t feel the same. I still love clay, so I did what I could physically do, making some lily vases, leaves and small sculptures. 

When my small sculptures sold well last year, I saw it as a sign to make more. I did. I made a lot more. But what I found out is that making more doesn’t mean selling more. Even though I did sell almost all of my birds(made in 2020) and polar bears(made in 2023), I had a hard time making more. It just didn’t feel the same to ‘remake’ my work as it did to make a new idea in clay. I know this may sound weird, but I struggled with copying myself. 

Perhaps, production work just doesn’t work for me. My art has certainly evolved over the years, I worried about that, too. I think that’s why I wanted to produce more to prove I could and to sell more. 

To do or not to do, what do I do? 

To force myself into the studio to copy myself isn’t working. 

Maybe that’s the problem: production instead of creating.

Making more didn’t lead to more sales.  

Maybe, just maybe less is more. 

Season of Change

 

I can’t believe it’s November already. Leaves have fallen. The garden is harvested. And trees, bushes and flowers have been trimmed. Mother Nature is shortening the sunshine getting us all ready for winter. I don’t know if I’m ready, yet. 

I do love the color changes. Hydrangeas turn from bright blue to burgundy as they dry in vases around the house. Leaves float down in shades of bright yellow, gold and red. I always find this season inspiring which leads to different work in the studio. 

Changing leaves. 

It’s this time of year when I can collect my favorite leaves in the park. I admit, I don’t know the species of tree. Maybe it’s a Maple? But I love the shape and size and structure of these leaves. So I carefully collect them and carry them home putting them under light plastic covers to keep them fresh. 

In the studio, I roll out my favorite clay and carefully imprint each leaf on it. Then, I draw through the clay following the leaf shape and place each one on the shelf to slowly dry. 

What starts out as leaf and clay ends as a finished porcelain plate or platter in shades of gray or burgundy. 

Changing life. 

My husband and I are into a new life phase many call ‘retirement’. I don’t like the word because it implies we are not doing anything but sitting around. And it’s definitely not true for us. 

We may not be working 9-5 but we are both still active and productive. We are both taking care of our grandchildren several times a week. We walk every day and we are both producing creative work. 

He’s busy writing and producing new podcasts on Substack. 

I’m busy in the studio making sculptures, leaves and lily vases. And selling my work in a new local gallery. 

Like the seasons, life changes. 

And while somethings fall away, 

Other things can bloom and grow. 

We can’t stop time from flying, 

But we can enjoy the flight.