Breaking Through

 

Ice and snow covered my world for the last week. There’s nothing I love more than snow. But walking around the snowy park and frozen lake near my home, I didn’t really see it in the same way this time. 

Instead, I was afraid of yet another disaster to add to mounting COVID list. And many, many people were without light and heat. Working from home doesn’t work without internet. Do virtual schools give kids a snow day?

Creative ice. 

I’ve pushed myself through this whole year to create as much as possible not just to keep my work out there, but to keep myself going. If you read my last blog, you’ll know I finally hit the wall. Making turned into a slog instead of a joy. Creative ideas seemed to stop flowing and pushing myself just made it worse. 

I spent a few days watching the ice coat my trees and the snow fall. It was too cold in my garage to throw or trim on my wheel, so I found myself in my studio puttering around. I wrote in my journal, moved a few pieces around and rummaged through my closet. 

Next thing I knew I’d rearranged my studio. Again.

I took everything off my two big black work carts and flipped them from left to right. I pushed one cart shelf up five inches to create a taller space. I rearranged the lower shelves with bisque molds all on one side and clay on the other. I got rid of dirty old plastic that I’ve been using for the last 10 years which I’m sure isn’t healthy. I cleaned, dusted and mopped. 

Drip by drip. 

Next thing I knew, it was thawing outside my window. The sheets of ice were breaking up. The snow had melted on the sidewalk. 

Inside, I’d created a new area dedicated to photography. In the past, anytime I needed photos of my work, I’d go to a professional. When he retired, I had to go it alone. At first that involved carting a stand, tabletop, lights, tripod and cameras out to my garage. I moved inside, but still every time I needed photos, I had to rearrange my entire studio. 

Now, I’ve got a photo area all set up and ready to go. All I have to do is put my piece on the shelf, my phone/camera in the tripod and shoot! Here are some of my first experiments with my new set up. 

Melting happens. 

After all the cleaning, I spent the next day throwing. When I went to put the bowls in the studio to dry, I saw a total of seven new bowls drying on the shelves. 

What happened to my COVID wall? Last time I looked my shelves were empty and inside I felt frozen. But somehow, in spite of all the snow and ice, moving and mopping, something inside of me melted. 

The cold inside me started to thaw and slowly, drip by drip, my creative spirit broke through.  

And some of the beauty that fell outside, had somehow fallen softly on my soul. 

Hello, it’s me July.

Really? It’s July? I’m just shaking my head in confusion here because the last time I looked up or out it was March. Oh, right. Covid. How could I forget? How could anyone? I don’t want to start a rant about that, there’s enough of that on social media. 

I wish to focus on blue skies and sunshine and hope and love. I wish to picture my new bowls, teacups and teapots cheering someone’s day. I wish to see my new, little birds fly off and perch in the land of smiling people. 

Act Kind. 

My word of the year, act, found it’s way into my work. A series of new bowls bring messages I hope to act on more. It’s been way too easy to be fearful and angry and sad lately. While I understand the importance of all that is going on around me, I see my soul was reaching for the message. The meaning. The learning. 

All I could do was work. Put my hands in my clay. Trim my cups. Paint. And let the words and symbols appear. 

Act True. 

Act Bold.  

Spirals, hearts and wings. 

Spirals are ancient, cross-cultural symbols. The circle moving in and out and around represents the changes, unfolding in the journey of life. I’ve always been drawn to it, perhaps due to my Celtic heritage, it makes me feel both comforted and challenged. 

Hearts, of course, represent love but also ‘the heart’. Mine. Yours. And the ‘heart’ of the matter. I see it as a perfect symbol right now. I see how leading from the heart and getting to the heart of what matters are key in unfolding outward and reaching beyond our situation. 

My first bird didn’t have wings. Yet, now they all do. Heart-shaped and word-stamped wings. Hmm. More messages. 

Fly. 

This seems an odd message right now, don’t you think? Getting out and about is full of new rules, social distancing and face masks. Going on a trip, especially in a plane, is even more risky. Although some places are opening up, hours are limited and sales are slow. 

I worried. I wondered perched in my safe studio. Should I try to sell online? If so, how? I decided to re-open my Etsy shop last week. I took my own photos featuring my functional tea and whiskey cups only. Just 5 pieces. But it’s a start. 

A friend heard about my teacups and asked if I was going to make a teapot. I’ve never made one because I don’t like throwing lids. Then I saw ‘my kind of teapot’. And now I’ve made 2 teapots, I call ‘Me’ and ‘Mini-me’. 

Yes, months have flown by. And I must admit, my wings have felt very heavy in June. My usual speed slowed and it didn’t feel like I was going anywhere at all. 

But now I see, I did fly to some new and wonderful places all without leaving the nest. 

Value, Acceptance, Success, Selfishness and Creative Quick Sand.

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I slipped into creative quick sand and I didn't even know I had buried myself and my art until I read this blog, The Pale Rook  by Johanna Flanagan.  All I knew was that since my silly milestone birthday in December, I had a sinking feeling.   It was vague, like a misty foggy day that crept in and around me.  

I tried to ignore it.  Power through it.  Push myself to work harder and faster.  

I worked on the wheel more often.  I set goals for production and worked on ways to streamline my work, to make more so I'd sell more.  I tried to come up with new concepts for small sculptures or mini masks.  I worked really, really, really hard.  

But running and pushing and trying to create new work, doesn't work.  

And it didn't really keep that milestone hanging around my neck from weighing me down. I was just hoping to out run it or hide from it.  What I didn't realize until I read Johanna's blog was that the milestone wasn't weighing me down.  

The creative quick sand in which I was sinking had been there for a very long time.  

And, in reading her honest words, I saw I wasn't alone.  These issues are so common and yet, so insidious for women, that we don't see them.  But, we do feel them and they do affect our lives and our art and our work.

Issue #1...Value.  I don't value my talent.  I am constantly depreciating my talent by saying that anyone can do what I do. I never think it's good enough or that I'm worthy enough.  

Issue #2...Acceptance.  I want to be liked.  I want my work to be liked.  I say I do the work that I need to do(and I have) BUT I really, really, really want to hear..."I really like your work.  Your work is so beautiful."

Issue #3...Success and selfishness.  If I make too much money, or charge too much for my work, I'm a materialistic, selfish person.  If I care about making art, that should be success enough, right?  Charging too much money for a piece and it doesn't sell, I'm a failure.  If I lower my prices and it doesn't sell, I'm even more of a failure. 

Wow.  This isn't a milestone around my neck, it's boulders.  Big ones.

I've always made things with my hands.  Doll clothes.  Embroidery.  Jewelry.  Watercolor paintings.  I originally did clay sculptures and masks.  I couldn't throw because I didn't think I could.  My sculptures in clay were medium sizes but I didn't think they were big enough or good enough to show in galleries.
 
So I did bigger mixed media sculptural work with clay and metal and writing.  It had doors and windows and layers.  I showed and sold in galleries for years but when it didn't all sell, I changed.  

I can see now, that I gradually made my work simpler and smaller and cheaper.

Thanks to Johanna's blog post, I see a light from the depths of my quick sand pit.  And I realize that the milestone isn't a millstone around my neck but a wake up call to lift that old weight off my psyche.  

Once and for all.  

Because after all, my life isn't getting any longer, so maybe it's finally time to quit spending the rest of my time down in this pit.