“Make some art today. And feel better.”

 

I found that quote on Pinterest last week and I took it as my marching orders: get back in the studio. Now, don’t misunderstand, I love working in clay and I love my studio. 

But for the last 11 months, my energy has been sidetracked into the reconstruction of my home. Building or rebuilding a home takes creativity, of course. Color choices, counter and floor surface decisions and cabinet designs to name a few. But alongside the design ideas are many days, weeks and months of waiting for the supplies and contractors to get the work done.

During all this, I lost access to my studio, kiln and wheel. In fact, my wheel and kiln area are still blocked. But my studio, where I do slab building and underglazing is unpacked and open. 

New clay. Hurrah!

I love clay. I, especially love new, fresh clay. Last week, I went out and bought 50 pounds of new clay, blue underglaze and clear glaze. Wow, that felt good. But what felt the best was cutting off a big square of porcelain clay back in my studio. 

As I wedged it and rolled it, I wondered how I could go 4 months without putting my hands in clay. It really is wonderful. Soft. Squishy. Smooth. 

There was a moment of fear as I got out my tools and forms. I worried I’d screw it up. Forget some important detail. I’ve been away from clay for so long, I felt blocked and scared. But, as I put my hands on the clay, I began to relax and remember. I got out my favorite lace and rolled it over the surface. Then, carefully formed it into one of my favorite things to make: a lily vase. 

Before I knew it, I’d made 2 new lily vases. 

Restored and relieved. 

There is nothing better than making something out of mud. Standing next to my table rolling out clay. Cutting it. Forming it. Feeling its edges and softening them. Pushing charms and hardware into the soft, strong surface. 

After all the fear and sadness and chaos of the last year, I found my way back to myself. Making some art out of clay today, did indeed, make me feel better. 

Anger vanished. 

Fear floated away. 

All that was with me was, me.

And clay. Hurrah!

Love and Waiting

 

I love clay. The smoothness, strength, flexibility, shaping, and painting. I love how it takes texture. Whether I throw it or roll it, I love how it feels. It takes textures of all kinds: leaves, twigs, lace, handprints, footprints, words and more. I can paint on it like a canvas or draw on it like paper or scratch out designs. 

And I love holding it in my hands through the entire process bringing it to life. Running my fingers over it time and time again to smooth edges and add handles and trim sweet little feet. 

I don’t love firing.

I have, over time, made my peace with bisque firing. I used to agonize over it. I worried that my green ware would blow up into tiny pieces. Not only would I lose one piece but, perhaps, others might be shattered just by being in close contact. All it takes is an unknown bubble to cause such destruction. 

But I know this necessary step will give me the opportunity to add more color, texture or meaning to the pieces. And I love that part of the process, too. And after many years of bisque firings under my belt, I see opportunity. 

Glazing and waiting. 

Once I’ve added all my color and my piece is bisque fired, there are only two steps left: glazing and firing. I hate both. 

Mixing and dipping each piece in clear glaze seems really simple. It is and it isn’t. This time around I bought 2 new gallons of clear glaze. It did not look or feel like my old clear glaze even though it was the same brand. It mixed up differently. It covered differently. It dried on the pieces ok, but I am still worried. Why? Because this, is it. 

All I can do now is load my kiln. Turn it on. Turn it up every 2 hours from low to medium to high. 

All the pieces that I’ve loved to throw, roll, trim, shape, paint and texture are in there baking at 2,200 degrees. 

And wait. Until the kiln turns itself off after reaching it’s required temperature. 

And wait. Until the inside kiln temp is as cool as the outside temperature to unload the kiln.

Will the glaze look wonderful? Will my colors and textures and sweet little feet survive?

Will I love each piece? I hope so. But right now, all I can do is wait. 

About Faces

‘Prologue’ Mask, porcelain, $300

From our very awakening at birth, life is all about faces. Seeing, knowing, loving begins with the faces of those around us. It’s not only a survival tool, it’s our very nature. 

I’ve written about this before. I see faces everywhere. It’s called Pareidolia. So I’m not alone in what I see, it’s an ability we all as humans, share. 

Whether I’m in line at the grocery store, watching clouds in the sky or touching the bark of trees in the woods, faces draw my attention. Happy or sad. Young or old. Spirited or wise. I find meaning and messages and connections and stories in each one. 

‘Healer’ Witch, porcelain, $50

Meeting new faces. 

I just delivered a new group of sculptures to the gallery, Art On Broadway. It’s been a little scary and at first, I wasn’t sure why. I’ve been in many gallery shows, local shows, regional invitationals over the decades as a working artist. 

I realized this week, it felt different because this is the first non-group show I’ve done in quite a while. It’s a dual show with printmaker, Beate Scheller. Her work is lovely in black and white and she, too, loves faces. 

We met on Saturday to hang our show. Again, not something I’ve done in a gallery show. Usually, that task is done by the curator or gallery owner. This time, Beate and I cleared the space, dusted and arranged the pedestals. While Beate hung her prints, I unpacked my new work. Yes, that’s it too. All of these sculptural pieces are new this year and this is their first show. 

Facing my fears. 

Showing my work in a group show is fun and relaxing and easy. My work is on display alongside many other artists’ work. I can hide in plain sight. In this show, I am the only ceramic artist. So not only is my work on display, so am I. 

In this group of work, I started with my love of nature. 

My simple leaf form became a cloak for a group of fairy witches. 

Tree bark inspired a pair of nature goddesses dressed in a combination of natural elements, Celtic symbols and feminine details. Shapeshifters appear again in my work in new forms. 

This group of work has sat around in pieces on my studio shelves for quite a while, staring down at me. I stared up at their faces, wondering. And finally, listening. 

They finally told me their stories and I did my best to bring them to form. But these are not just my stories, they are yours, too. These are stories we have all understood from our first look at the world around us. 

It’s all about faces.   

Sculpting is Fun. Doing My Own Photography is NOT.

I held my breath as I opened the kiln. Then, I let it out with a smile and a thank you to the clay gods, goddesses and the universe. I’ve been working so hard on this new body of sculptural work. It’s taken months and with some pieces years to get to this point. There is no going back. It’s over for better or worse. 

This time, I am blessed. Every piece came out in one piece, colors bright and the new pearl glaze shimmering nicely. But I wasn’t done, yet. 

It’s time for your close up. 

I am not a professional photographer. I had a wonderful, talented pro who took pictures of my work for years and I admired his excellence and expertise every time. He patiently assessed every piece I’d brought, decided on background, set up and snapped away. He retired. Now I am on my own. 

In this age of cell phone photography, it’s easy to think that shooting pictures is as easy as a click of a button. It’s not. 

Good photography is a complex dance between light and shadow, foreground and background, composition and editing. These days you need a digital camera with double digit megapixels, zoom, computer downloadable and a good editing app or software. Add a tripod, seamless background, table set up and lights. Whew.

Let there be light. 

Lighting is the key to good art photography. My photographer did a wonderful job and I now try to emulate his technique as best I can. I use this set up in my garage which is the only place I can have the kind of complete darkness which is necessary to get good lighting. 

I know it sounds crazy but starting in complete darkness is the key to good lighting. When I first attempted my photos, I had too much light and the background was too light, too flat and dulled the colors in my pieces. This time I really tried to get more contrast between the background and my work. I was aiming for gradation from top to bottom of dark to light in each picture. I think I did better this time. But I know I need to learn more. 

Learning is lifelong. 

Yes it is. It’s not always easy and I’m not the most patient student. Technology overwhelms me sometimes. Playing with lights and camera makes me act a little crazy. I’ll admit, my dog heard a lot of bad words that day. Sorry, pup. 

But all in all, I love learning. Even when I get frustrated, I never want to stop. I truly believe that the key to a long, healthy life is learning. Maybe one of these times taking pictures of my work will become as easy as building with clay on a good day.

My Saturday: Gallery Sitting and Art Making(and fun)

Photo by Michelle Barnett

I am not a ‘sitter’. By that I mean, I don’t like to sit for long periods of time. Physically, mentally and creatively, I just like to be moving. I walk everyday, do yoga, stand while I hand build and most of my best ideas come to me while I’m moving around or leaning against my favorite tree. 

As an Art On Broadway artist, I staff the gallery once a month. This is called ‘gallery sitting’ and today was my day. Gallery sitting turned into gallery standing, gallery creating, gallery selling and gallery meeting and greeting.

Gallery standing. 

When I arrive in the morning, the first thing I always do is housekeeping. I sweep the floor inside, entry way and sidewalk in front of the gallery. Then I dust the shelves, cubbies, pedestals, glass art, ceramic art, wood pieces. I wipe the finger prints off the door, clean the glass desk and water the plants. 

Photo by Michelle Barnett

Then I look around and see what needs ‘fluffing’. This is a term another artist uses to describe moving things around in a space. We have wonderful art and artists who work to set up displays but as she explained to me, moving even great displays around creates energy. That energy attracts people to look and see and buy the art. So I fluff. 

Gallery creating. 

This week I worked in my studio hand building new vases and jars. I love making. What I don’t love is waiting. Clay is a unique medium that requires you to work quickly and slowly and patiently. Clay has to sit but not too long. 

I made the body of these jars on Thursday, then they sat. Next lids need to be cut, tops and sculptural elements need to be added. Depending on the weather, the sitting time is anywhere from a day to a week. Summertime means the jars needed attention by Saturday at the latest. 

So I packed them up and took them to the gallery with me. 

Gallery selling, meeting and greeting.

I had very few visitors in the morning, but after I set up my workspace and starting working people walked in instead of walking by. They came in and looked all around the gallery. Some were interested in what I was doing. Some were not. But they all had more interested looks on their faces, asked more questions about the art and artists in the gallery. 

Happily, I did sell art. It wasn’t mine, instead it was a piece by one of our newest artists. I made the sale, wrapped it up and found a new piece to hang in the empty space which required a little more fluffing to make it all look good again. 

Standing and working on my jars, fluffing the art and cleaning all sent out good energy. That energy brought people in to look, talk and take home something beautiful. Gallery sitting, standing and art making made for a fun day. 

Perfect Doesn’t Live Here

I am getting ready for a ceramics show. Actually, I’ve been working towards this show for the last six months. Right after the holidays, I got busy throwing bowls and cups and hand building lily vases and jars. I love that part of the process and it goes pretty smoothly.

Drying doesn’t. The porcelain clay I work with does not like to be rushed. It likes to sit, nicely covered for weeks and weeks and weeks. After some time has passed, I can paint the first layer of color. Then, I wait some more.

Patience doesn’t mean perfect. 

I have worked on patience for years and I have gotten much better because, if I push porcelain to the next phase before it’s ready, it cracks. Or worse, it blows up. 

So I waited. I made more pieces. I waited some more. Finally, it was time to do the first bisque fire. I put on another layer of color, and did the second bisque fire. Everything came through looking pretty good. 

But not perfect. I’d love to say that my handmade work is perfectly done. I’d love to say that my technique is flawless. I’d love to say that I have the perfect clay and glaze combination that works consistently every time. Yeah, right. 

Snap. Crackle. Pop. 

The last time I did mugs using my favorite black glaze on the handle, it literally came out of the kiln and flaked off. I’ve never had that happen before and I’ve been using that same glaze for 5 years. 

This time, I eliminated the black handle and put the red or turquoise color on the inside, leaf and side decoration only. I left the handles in the clay body and clear glazed them instead. Well, this handle not only snapped on this mug, it decided to sculpt itself into an entirely different shape. Unusable. 

I had one wine cup that went in perfect and came out with a small pinhole crack in the bottom. It leaks. Unusable. I had two bowls come out with small cracks on the bottom but the inside is perfect. Usable. But not perfect. 

On one mug the red color, again a long time favorite, popped off in a very small area. The clay is vitrified and the area is tiny, so it is still usable. But not perfect. 

So here I am. I do have many nice pieces ready to go to the show. And I’d like to say all my work is perfect but as you can see, perfect doesn’t live here. Not in my studio anyway.   

All I can say is I am an artist, working in the clay that I love and doing the very best that I can.

Done. Almost.

Firing up the kiln is always exciting and scary and this week was no exception. It’s a bisque load which is only the first firing. This is the firing I use to set the first layers of color and dry out the clay. Hopefully all the pieces will make it through this phase in one piece with no cracks. But this is only the first of two to three more firings. 

Next, depending on the piece, I add more color or a color wash. In most cases, I put the pieces in another bisque firing to set the color before I do the final glaze fire. But other pieces get added color lightly applied, then a special clear coat for the final stage. 

Finishing while Firing. 

While my kiln was doing the first part of the process on these new pieces, I was finishing up on several pieces. Finally.

I admit I hate finishing. I don’t like endings in my work because I love the process of creating. But the other reason is good old fashioned fear of failure. 

Questions and self doubt and past mistakes creep in like fog on a dark night.

What was I thinking? Do I even like this piece? What if it turns out ugly and not even close to what I had in mind? What if I hate it and everyone else does too? Hey, I was asked to leave a gallery because I changed my color palette and they didn’t like it.

Because these two pieces are both sculptural, I get especially nervous. Have you ever had people come into your studio, stop in front of your work, start pointing and talking? Then when you come up to see if you can answer questions they tell you they know all about it. Thank You. Then they leave. Or they say, well it’s not very pretty is it? Or wherever did you get an idea like that? Yeah, maybe I have a reason to be nervous. 

Is it art? It is what it is. 

I love clay and color and texture. I love creating bowls and mugs and vases and plates that are colorful and textural that people can use everyday. I also love letting my hands tell a story or describe a character that I imagine. My only problem is that my hands don’t always manifest my imagined image exactly. 

Things happen on the way from my heart to my hands. Sometimes there is a breath of beauty I could not have thought of before. Sometimes, there is tension and misinterpretation of a language I am always learning to speak. 

When it comes down to the end, what’s done is done. It is what it is. 

And it’s my job at this point to let it go. 

Springing Forward

Spring is one my favorite seasons for all the right reasons: new buds and blooms and freshness. It’s always energizing. I find myself taking bigger, deeper breaths clearing out the winter gloom. I feel lighter in my mind, body and spirit. 

With all this new energy buzzing all around me, new ideas and worked seems to be blooming too. My studio shelves are now bursting with work. I’m ready at last to load my kiln and fire it up. I see I’ll need to do 2 bisque loads and, probably, 2 glaze loads! For me, that’s a really significant amount of work in less than 3 months. 

Talking to the Trees. 

I’ve written quite a few essays about my journeys in the woods and my encounters with my wise trees. I know to some this may seem odd or even unbelievable, that’s ok. I get it. We all have our own ways to honor the spirit of creation in this world. And I believe that the more we honor that spirit of love, peace and knowledge around us, the better we will all be. 

Mother Cedar, as I call her, is always a place of energy and wisdom for me. When I lean against her trunk, I immediately feel the energy of connection. It soothes and energizes me. And if I’m lucky that day, I get a message of guidance. 

Today’s was simple: Be kind. I immediately took the words to mean, be kind to others. And then, I got another nudge. While being kind to others is important, the message was closer to home. What did she mean? It was clear. Be kind to myself. This is very hard for me to do, and a good lesson for the season. Spring up with kindness. 

Darling Darby. 

I am so thankful for my beautiful boy puppy. He is full of energy and playfulness. I didn’t realize until he came into my life that I’d forgotten something very essential to life: Play. As he sniffs and romps around the yard, I see the world in a new light. And I feel the lightness and joy through his simple enjoyment of what this day brings. 

Although what I do creating, throwing, painting and sculpting may make it look like I play all the time. The truth is, most of the time, I work hard. I push and pull and, yes, schedule my time. I may not work 9 to 5, but I block out hours and days so my work gets priority. This is an important part of the process.

But it doesn’t always have to be that way. Just like the buds, blooms and bouncy puppies, I can Spring forward. Sniff the freshness. Watch the buds open. Touch the earth, my work and even myself, with true kindness that helps us all bloom and grow. 

Life Changing Quotes

Quote: “What do you choose to believe?”

Quotes seem to pop up around me like flowers in Spring. And this one popped up in my inbox. At first, I shrugged and moved on but the second sentence grabbed me and wouldn’t let me go. 

“Whether you believe it’s possible or whether you believe it’s impossible, you’re right.”

I’ve had many times in my life where I didn’t believe in possible. I know I’m not alone. Our lives are full of impossible situations, things we cannot change and events beyond our control. You know what I mean: death, disease, war, and poverty. But there are others that while they seem impossible at the moment, may lead us into a new light of possibility. 

What can change possible from impossible? Choosing to believe. I know it sounds too simple but I also know it’s proven true for me. I didn’t believe I could ever learn to throw clay into bowls and cups, yet, here they are on my studio shelves.

I didn’t believe when my sweet, Labrador Jilly died so suddenly that I would be able to love another puppy again. Yet, when my new baby boy, Darby came into my life my heart opened up bigger. 

Quote: “If you don’t want to do it and you don’t have to do it. Don’t do it.”

This is a game changer for me. I was brought up to do everything for everyone and to do it well. Dirty cup sitting on a table that’s not mine, pick it up and wash it. Join the committee and do not just my best job, but more than is required. Be Vice President of my sorority, President of Women In Communications. Win awards. Work overtime. Read all the parenting books, go to seminars and do all the laundry, too. 

Always, my motivation was to help. Everyone. What I realize now, is that’s not always helpful  for them or me. Because too much helping them, left me tired and burned out. And guess what? It didn’t help them either. 

This quote is now my way to help myself by asking what do I really want to do? When I’m tempted to jump in somewhere and give it all I’ve got, I read it. Then I take a breath in and out. 

Quote: “Remember when you wanted what you currently have.”

Popping up on my Facebook feed, I thank many of my friends there for providing wisdom like this along with inspiration and laughs. 

This quote struck a particular chord. About 10 years ago, things were not going so well for my family and I. We had to weather the emotional, physical and financial storms of lay-offs, broken bones with no health insurance and college tuitions. 

I remember wanting it to all end well. New and better jobs. College graduations. Bones healed. And, particularly for me, a chance to take ceramics classes, learn to throw and maybe be able to sell a few pieces. 

Surprise! What I wanted, we all currently have!