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. 

 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. 

 

Small Things

 

I’m going to start out by saying: I don’t know what to write about today. Nothing I say will eliminate the evil and greed. I admit, I don’t understand why some people use their power to hurt others, especially when they have more than they need to live their own lives. 

I see it. And I just shake my head in disbelief.  

I do my best to be kind and good and understanding. I don’t feel I’m here to compete with others. I feel I’m here to help. Understand. Love. And create. 

Creating helps. 

Whether it’s making new ceramic reliefs, dabbling in watercolors, writing or crocheting creating something with my hands and heart helps me. It keeps me moving forward in spite of a world that wants to hold me back. 

So, I create a blue bird and an orchid in clay. 

A watercolor on clay. 

A freeform crochet piece that may be a drawstring bag? I don’t know. I’m just using up leftover yarn. 

It really doesn’t matter what you or I create today. What matters is putting creative energy out there to balance the destructive energy. To surround the fear with color and light and softness and love. 

Yes, we have to create in spite of all that’s going on around us. To create is to dream of a better day, to see through a different lens and to love the beauty in the world around us.

Chain of Joy

I’m sitting here on the window seat looking out at a light blue sky with thin white clouds. I can hear the buzz of the weed eater in the backyard and hum of the washing machine. 

Just another day in my neck of the ‘woods’. 

How do I feel right now? 

I’m Ok. And maybe a little worried. 

Are my kids and grandkids ok?

Is my husband out with the weed eater ok?

Why is the dog scratching his eye?

What is that greedy guy in the big White House going to do next?

Taking a breath in and out. I sigh.

I’m doing what I can: protesting, boycotting and supporting my friends and neighbors. 

But it’s hard to let go of the baseline worry that hums away underneath everything right now. Hard to focus on joy when there are people suffering because of the greedy criminals in our capitol.

But we have to find joy. 

We have to look for beauty. 

We have to bring what we love into the world, right now. 

Maybe, especially right now.  

Because joy and beauty and love is how we stay strong. 

Sharing it with each other is the chain that keeps us together. 

Ok, I’m still worried. 

But, maybe, we can be worried together and let it ignite change.

And maybe, together we can find and share some beauty.

And some joy.   

What are you doing that brings joy and love and beauty into your life right now?

Let’s start our own chain of joy. 

 

 

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?

Taking a deep breath.

 

I realize I’ve been holding my breath for months now. Waiting and waiting and waiting for all of ‘this’ to be over. I know I’m not alone, although it feels like it. I can feel the collective intake every time that ‘someone’ makes a statement which none of us want to hear. It’s like some bad movie which is so bad, it fails at the box office. 

Oh, wait a minute, didn’t ‘hers’ already do that?

Anyway.  Let’s all take a slow breath in and then slowly out.

Breathe.  

No Kings day showed how many of us are on the same page. Over eight million of us. I don’t know about you, but that helps me breathe a little better. 

But what really saves me every day is art. Even though it’s not all fun and games, the process keeps me focused. This week was the stage of working with mud that scares me the most. Why? Because at this stage, there’s no going back. It either works or it doesn’t.

To dip or not to dip. 

When I do functional pieces like cups, bowls, vases, I dip them in a large bucket of mixed glaze. Wipe off the bottoms and let them dry. Then load them in the kiln. 

But this technique doesn’t work well with sculptural or relief pieces. There are lots of edges and crevices and details to glaze around. I thought about painting on layers of glaze, but then again, too much here or there and the piece is ruined. I decided the only way was pouring the glaze over the pieces while spinning them on a small wheel. Then doing touch up. 

Firing with fingers crossed. 

After 2 days of drying time, I loaded each piece carefully into the kiln. Set the cone in the bracket. Propped the lid. Plugged the holes and pushed the switch. And set the timer. While other clay people have kilns with digital timers, I set the timer on my phone.

Once the kiln is on, I’m watching the clock and ready to turn it up every 2 hours. I turn the switch. Lo. Medium. High. And then I wait for it to click off. Even then, I’m still waiting for the kiln to cool off completely before I can open it. All the while I’m sitting there thinking: will the pieces crack? Will the glaze work evenly? Will all my work result in beauty or failure?

It’s completely cool now, outside and inside temperatures match. 

It’s time. 

Holding my breath, I open it up. A big sigh. Luckily all went well. 

My new idea to do relief pieces worked! 

Now, I take a big breath in and a sigh of relief!