Spiraling Spirals

I signed up for an art gathering on Zoom. There wasn’t a theme or agenda. Just a few people and an artist/leader using whatever materials they had on hand. Watercolors. Inks. Colored pencils. Crayons. 

We were muted so background noise wasn’t distracting. And we could leave our cameras on or off. I turned mine off. 

I had my desk area covered with a variety of materials: watercolor paints, brushes, watercolor crayons and ink. And blank white paper, not the good watercolor paper, just a sheet off a drawing pad. 

Then, I picked up a crayon and started to move it around and around the paper. Lines appeared. Circles moved around and became spirals. Somewhere during the time, I loaded a brush with color and tapped it over the paper. 

Splat. Splat. Splat. 

To me, there’s something so satisfying hearing the sound of the paint hitting the paper. And I love how the already wet colors merged with the splats. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t plan it. And I didn’t consider it ‘art’. 

It felt like kindergarten all over again. Where the easel is all set up with blank white paper, clean brushes, water and a row of paint colors ready to use. 

If the colors mixed by themselves that was even better. I tilted the paper, too. Even more fun!

Spirals spiraling. 

I didn’t even notice the shape or direction of my mark making. I didn’t control the splats. I just let go and let it flow. And I didn’t even notice how many spirals had appeared until the group gathered and we started sharing our papers. 

The artist/leader noticed all the spirals on my paper. She asked if I’d chosen to make them and if it had some special meaning for me. I honestly didn’t realize I’d made so many spirals and wasn’t sure what meaning they had for me.

But I did joke: maybe I’m spiraling? 

Something from nothing: a realization. 

After the meet up was over, I showed my husband the paper and mentioned the artist’s question about spirals and my work. I told him what I told her that it just randomly appeared and I had no idea why. He said I’ve used spirals in and out of my work for years. 

He pointed to a screening mask hanging in the hallway. As you can see above. 

A stamp I made and used on a bowl, a plate and a bird. 

I had no idea it was an ongoing theme for me. I’m not sure what it means. Or why I use it, except I like its shape and swooping curve. So I googled it, of course, and here’s the meaning and info from my online search. 

“Cycles of Life: Across many cultures, including Celtic and Indigenous traditions, the continuous loop of a spiral represents the natural progression of birth, life, death, and rebirth. It signifies that time and existence are not linear, but cyclical. 

Nature and Creation: The spiral mirrors patterns found everywhere in the natural world, from hurricanes and seashells to galaxies and the double-helix of our DNA. It acts as a visual metaphor for the generative forces of the universe. 

Wisdom and Progression: Moving along the curves of a spiral represents advancing through life's lessons, returning to familiar situations with higher levels of understanding and clarity.”

I do have a Celtic heritage, so maybe it’s coming from there? I know many people refer to ‘spiraling’ when they’re anxious and we are living through difficult times. Or maybe, just the opposite, it’s something my spirit finds calming especially right now? 

Maybe I don’t have to know the ‘why’ but instead just embrace it as part of my life and, obviously, part of my art.  

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. 

 

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.

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!

Seeing from the Inside Out

I don’t know where to start writing today. There’s just so much out there right now, my mind and inbox overflows. And one thing I don’t 

want to do is add more fuel to the fire or try to wash it all away. It’s maddening and overwhelming and sad. 

I’m aware. I’m not sticking my head in the sand. I’m just trying to find my own balance. And the only thing that balances it all out for me right now is beauty and art. So I take my walks around the lake and listen to the geese. Watch the ducks swim past me. And, if I’m lucky snatch a glimpse of a heron. 

At home, I crochet because the movement of my fingers in and around yarn soothes my soul. Right now, I’m crocheting red ‘resistance’ hats. Learning to make a tassel was a new process but I did figure it out, finally. The next hat will be better. 

And I doodle and paint and play with clay. This week, when it all got too much, I took out my black pen and let it swirl up, down and around. Then I got out my watercolor pencils and colored the sections in like a coloring book. Another day, I brushed water into each section. Another day, I went over my black lines with more black. It’s nothing. It’s just a doodle. But it gave my mind and soul a safe place to meander for a while. 

Another day, I took out some clay pieces that needed the next step: color. I made these pieces in the last 6 months or so with no agenda in mind. I’ve never made anything like this before. They’re not functional clay pieces. They have no fancy titles or artsy ideas. Maybe I could call them clay doodles? I don’t know. What I do know is they needed color but I wasn’t sure which colors. Again, I had no plan. I just got out my colored underglazes and started painting. 

They will need a clear glaze and firing to be finished. But that’s ok, I think the slow process isn’t just important to the clay.

 It’s important for me, for my mind and my body and my soul. 

To quiet. To rest. To see from the inside out for a change.