Creating Strength and Clarity

 

The bad TV show continues to spew out episodes daily in our country. It’s hard to watch the episodes spin out angry threats and misinformation. I watch and listen and  support the courts and truthful reporting. I have to say upfront, my husband has been a broadcast news reporter for decades and I trust his information.

Trusted sources give me more than information, they give me strength and clarity. I make it a goal to stay out of the chaotic news feeding frenzy. If you want that too, I recommend reading, Turner’s Take here on Substack. https://miketurner921.substack.com/p/hands-off?r=2j4566

Clay and crochet and clarity. 

As an artist, my work gives me a lot of time alone. As I roll and knead and push and pull the clay, my head clears. I let the clay lead me where it wants to go. This week, each piece formed into a bird. One small. One larger. 

I didn’t draw it or design it or force it. The clay moved with my hands and fingers into the shape of a small little bird and a crow. They’re  not finished yet and that’s ok. Wings and details will be added as they dry a bit. But I guess I’m not surprised a crow flew into my studio this week. I do love crows. We have many who nest in our great big fir tree. They fly to the back porch cover to take loud splashing baths. I smile with delight every time.   

Everyday, I crochet. All during my illness and now during this crazy time, I find the rhythm of hook and yarn is like meditation that calms my body and soothes my mind. Lately, I’m making Christmas stockings at the request of a local shelter for women and children. I’ve never made crochet stockings before, so it’s a new creative challenge for me. 

(Ok, I don’t do patterns, I usually wing it. But I’m trying out patterns and using some stash and new yarn.) The one on the bottom left is in progress. 

Creating strength. 

Especially now, with the weak posturing loudly, I look for quiet strength. Senators and judges who use their strength and the law against the lawless. People raising their voices and writing words to protest. 

Here’s what I found out after I formed my birds this week. Birds symbolize freedom, something we are all fighting for right now. And crows are symbols of transformation, wisdom, strength, intelligence and the ability to see beyond the ordinary. 

I don’t know about you, but I need that right now. 

Maybe that’s why I found two more birds I’d done weeks ago and forgotten. 

I need to feel strong and free and see above the headlines. 

Hello Fall!

Cool air flows through my window. Clouds fill the blue gray sky. Yellow, gold and red color peeps in between the green leaves in the distant hills. Fall is here. Finally. 

I’ll admit, I haven’t always been a fan of Fall. It felt sad to see Summer go and see my kids go back to school. I love summer’s roses and lavender. The taste of fresh, warm garden tomatoes and crunchy cucumbers. But this year, I’m breathing a sigh of relief that those 90-100 degree days are behind me. 

Fall leaves fresh from the kiln. 

It was a delight to fire up my kiln with a load full of new porcelain leaves. I collect the actual leaves from my nearby park so I’m never sure what I’ll find. This year was a great year. I found many lovely leaves in several sizes to use in my studio. 

I roll out slabs of porcelain clay and carefully push the leaves into the soft surface. Once they set up, I cut all the edge details and decide which ones I’ll use as bowl shapes or plates. After slow, careful drying, I bisque fire clay and the actual leaves burn away. Then I add a wash of color. Finally, the leaves are glazed and fired. 

Pinecones and pumpkins.

Changing up for the fall season around my house means adding the delicious smells of vanilla, pumpkin and cinnamon. I love making arrangements of pine cones, acorns from the park and mini white pumpkins. 

As the color slowly changes outside, I always add some color changes inside. 

Ceramic leaves in crimson and black. 

Teal and crimson birds, vases of late blooming hydrangeas. 

Seasonal inspiration. 

In the studio, I’m playing with new ideas. After being forced out of my studio last year, I found creative comfort in playing with an old friend, watercolor painting. I took watercolor classes with a local artist when I was sixteen. I loved how the colors flowed and melded using the wet into wet technique. It was my comfort then and now. 

So I thought I might try taking my love of watercolor painting and combining it with clay. This is my first attempt and I’m  not sure if I like how it turned out.  

But I’ve decided to let fall changes inspire me to make some changes, too. 

February Love Story #3

It’s another week in February and another way to focus on love. 

Welcome to week three of February love stories where I’m focusing on things in my life that make me happy in body, mind, heart and soul. It’s so easy for me to go through my days in a kind of work haze: to do, do, done and more to do. 

While I love to be busy creating with my hands in clay, I don’t want to forget all the connections I make in and around me that bring peace and joy. And places that open my eyes and inspire ideas. 

Life is a walk in the park. 

I know, since 2020, nothing has felt that way. Right? It’s not been an easy three years, but  even on my worst days when fear surrounded me, my park was there. 

Calm waters waiting. Green grass growing. Peaceful reflections. 

Leaves changing. Geese migrating. 

Deer and fawns running through the woods.

Sun, snow or rain. 

No matter what the weather, I walk. Even when water is dripping down off my hood, there is so much beauty around to see. I’ve seen more otters swimming in the lake on rainy days. And geese landing with a slide across the ice. 

Snow covered tree limbs and bridges.  

Heron hanging out and flying closer to the path.

The best of all medicine: Laughter. 

Yes, even during covid, there were little feet running around the park playgrounds. It’s one of the things that lifted my heart and soul. When schools were closed, the park was open and  children were learning. 

Swinging. Sliding. Climbing. 

Exploring the bridges. And playing in the woods.

Natural inspiration. 

Walking is, of course, great exercise. It’s a great workout for my muscles and my heart. But it also strengthens my imagination. And stretches my creativity, loosens my feelings and brings new ideas to the surface that grow into new pieces of art. 

I love my neighborhood park.

   

Grateful

 

I am grateful. Yes, in spite of all the terrible, difficult, confusing, maddening, and scary things this year has thrown in my path, I am humbly grateful.

I am grateful for my breath, my hands, my body (yes, even as it grows older). My arms are strong enough to lift my grandkids. My back bends, slowly. I make sure to use my abs. My legs love to stretch and walk and climb with me every day around the park and back. And my hands still love to throw, shape, trim and paint clay. 

Home and heart. 

Again, I’m grateful for my home, warmth and food. Especially this year with all the problems finding TP, cleaning supplies, flour and even yeast, it’s been scary. Just when I stopped ‘backing up’ my pantry so many things got hard to find. But one day at a time, I’ve gathered and stored. And I’m grateful my pantry is ‘backed up’ once again. 

While many other hearts filled with anger and violence and fear gnawed at my soul, my arms opened to welcome my children and grandchildren home. After many years apart, my daughter, son-in-law and baby grandson came home. Now I get to take care of two sweet, wonderful new humans. My granddaughter, Meyer is at that magical age of 5 and my grandson is moving from baby to toddler learning and growing with amazing speed and sweetness. 

Art and soul. 

Through all these difficult months, art has been my island of peace, safety and joy. Throwing teacups. Trimming delicate feet. Stamping bowls with messages to ‘act brave and kind’. Creating my own new way to make birds with heart shaped wings and encouraging words. 

All of this work lifted me up when my heart started to sink. It gave my body a way to work through my feelings. And my mind something else to focus on and move onward. And I am always and ever grateful for the opportunity to do the work I do.

Inside and out.  

Quarantines. Walks in the park. Gallery sitting with a mask and no visitors. Shopping with social distancing. It feels more than a little surreal. It’s difficult. Frustrating. And sad. 

But inside, my home is still my home. Today, my daughter and I cooked and watched a movie.  My husband and my doggy Darby are now snuggled by the fire. Upstairs, my daughter and son-in-law are gently singing my grandson good night. And tomorrow, my son and granddaughter will be here to eat turkey dinner and

Every day. Every breath. Yes, even for every roll of TP.  

I am grateful. 

Again and again and again. 

What are you grateful for today?

“Still, I rise.”

 

Again and again and again. 2020. This week my inbox and social media is crowded with messages like yours, I’m sure. We are all feeling and seeing and reeling from fires, viruses, deaths and disasters. 

One email focused on letting it all go. Jen Louden made a great point, “There’s a profound difference between surrendering to what is vs. falling into the grubby kind of “why bother? I’m learning to navigate between the two. I’m learning to feel my disappointment and heartache while dropping my stories like, I suck because __________ didn’t work or never happened.”

Inspiration and work. 

I admit, I’ve been in the ‘let it all go’ giving up phase. I also admit, I was heading for ‘why bother’ land. Louden’s email helped me feel the difference and steer myself back on the road.

I found a quote from Maya Angelou’s poem, “Still, I rise” and I read her strong, beautiful, determined words over and over. My heart ached for her pain, saw her courage and felt my own small world rise.

Her words were the inspiration for a new piece. And I delivered it to a new gallery this week. Somehow the birds I’ve been making, Maya Angelou’s wonderful poem and the gallery’s 12x12 square all came together like magic. 

Being useful to the world. 

In the wake of Ruth Beader Ginsberg’s death, an email from Maria Shriver, Sunday Paper arrived with a question of how to turn despair into action. Asking everyone, “how you can be used right now. This is not a time for despair. This is not a time to bow out or go quiet. This is a seminal moment for each of us to dig in and dig deep.”

As an artist, how can I be used right now? I throw and hand build bowls, teacups, vases and birds in clay. This is not a revolutionary thing to do. My pieces don’t shout or march or protest. 

But, I realized the other day, they do make a statement. A friend came by my studio to buy one of my red ‘cup of love’ teacups. 

In the process, she loved and bought a bowl with the words, “Believe Love”.

And smiled happily at my Caterpillar/Butterfly with the words: love, joy, true, act, brave, kind. 

So maybe in letting it all go, I steered myself into new work that helped me rise. And maybe it will help my friend and others to rise, too. 

Despite the fear, death and smoke, I can hear Maya Angelou’s wonderful, brave words: 

“Still, like dust, I’ll rise”, “Still I’ll rise”, “Still, like air, I rise”, and “I rise. I rise. I rise.”