What’s Next?

 

Finishing things in the studio and around the house feels good, yet my mind races ahead to what’s next. The ongoing quest or question drives creation and maybe, drives me a little crazy? 

I wanted, and maybe needed, to do a relief sculpture of oak leaves. The face, like the others I’ve made, is a mystical goddess. With her eyes opening outward, a tribal like eyebrow and smiling lips, she feels to me like wisdom and love. 

So far I’ve made her the center of a sunflower, poppies, ginkgo leaves and now oak leaves. Am I celebrating the seasons as I would imagine she does? I don’t know. And that’s ok. 

That’s how art works for me, if I let myself listen without listening.  Be moved instead of moving. See without using my eyes, instead using my hands and heart. Act from my gut, my core, my intuition. 

The magic of making. 

I love to make things, so I’m always making things. That’s the good part. The ideas. The excitement of the beginning. The intense focus and joy of rolling and cutting and putting pieces in place one by one. I am always oblivious to the mess in the moment and while I delight in the idea, the process always takes much more time than I envision. 

That’s ok. Step by step the pieces come together. My only race is with my hands, the weather and time. Clay is a medium which needs cooler weather and humidity all within a certain window of time. Once it starts to dry out, the working window closes. Sometimes completely. Yes, there are ways to keep it moist and pick up where I left off but sometimes, life gets in the way.

Symbols of power. 

As a nation, we are fighting for our rights, our safety and our lives. So art seems a frivolous action. And yet, somewhere inside me feels it is a lifeline, our lifeline. Grounding to the earth, to the soul, to each other. It makes a connection that can’t be bought or paid or taken away. 

It is our common ground. It is a language beyond words. It is our souls reaching out for each other. Whispering in the night: “We are still here. We are all right. We are together.”

Oak trees and their leaves are symbols of strength, endurance, stability and longevity. Because they are big, powerful trees with a long life span, they also represent fertility and wisdom. Along with their acorns, they represent power, authority and victory. 

Perhaps I needed some Oak tree power this week, maybe you do too. 

Alive and Free.

 

It’s taken me days to start writing this piece. Well, years or maybe decades, actually. As a woman, a grandmother, a mother, a spouse, I’ve had many roles dictated by society, by religion, by men. I have been seen and unseen. Loved and hated. Embraced and abused. And it started when I was so young, I had no words for it. No context. Even if I did, I would not have been heard. 

So you can understand why this weeks press conference on Capitol Hill by the women who as girls were captured and raped hit me hard. They are so brave and I wished I could have been so brave, too. I tried. I was unheard. So I did the best I could, I shielded my children. I refused to let them be alone with my family. When I had to appear, my husband and I made sure they were protected at all times. Push came to shove and I had to say, NO. Stop the abuse and bullying. Stop the threats. Instead of listening to me, my mother disinherited me. 

The bullies got the money. 

I got safety.

Am I angry. Yes. 

Is there grief and loss? Yes. 

But I am free. I am safe. 

So are my children and grandchildren. 

Art Therapy. 

I can see now, clearly, that much of my art tells the story. Without realizing it I wasn’t just telling the story of my past, but the story of my present. The story of rising. The story of the strength it took to stand up and step away. 

Now with that pedophile in the White House, I put my feelings and needs into clay. I thought I was just playing around with a new way of making a bust. But without realizing it, I created a few pieces with women as walls. Women as guardians and goddesses.

These pieces helped me see the truth. I may feel shaky, but I am healing. Physically from major surgery this year where, as an older woman, I was tossed from doctor to doctor for a year before getting the help I needed. Mentally from the shock of major surgery. Emotionally from the wounds of the past both emotional and physical. 

And as my sweet, strong, supportive husband keeps telling me: it takes time.

 

Time to slowly find myself again. 

Working with my hands and heart and clay.  

I now have Goddesses to remind me:

I protected my love, my babies, myself. 

Now, I am alive and free. 

 

Relief

 

While the world swirls with ugly threats and bad news for their side, I am looking for beauty and calm and growth. I think we all need to look outside all of this crazy and try to find something that brings relief and helps us center. 

For me, that’s working with my hands, mind and imagination. I’ve worked in a lot of art media over the years: art quilting, beading, embroidery; oil, acrylic and pastel painting; throwing clay and sculpture in copper and clay. I’ve enjoyed the process of learning and creating in each media. But there’s something I’ve never tried: relief work. 

A new clay experiment. 

I’ve done repousse in copper but working on a clay relief is totally different. With copper sheets, you push out from the back of the copper to create the raised design.

With clay relief, you add clay to the surface of a slab of clay to make a design or image. During my surgery recovery, I got into painting again. I painted some landscapes and flowers. I like painting, but something in me wanted more. 

So I started rolling and cutting and shaping and soon one of my paintings turned into a clay relief landscape and another a flower. 

It was so much fun, I did a few more.

Now what?

I wish I could tell you I have a plan. I don’t. Like all of the art I’ve created and shown over the last 20 years, it was just something I had to do. Something came about because I needed to work with color and texture and shape. 

Some of the pieces tell a story, like this one, about a woman from Japan. (

(First picture-box closed, Second picture-box open, short story about Meiko on inside of door)

        

Some were masks make of window screening or clay.

. 

Some were just paintings.

 

Some were just cups, bowls and vases.

 

Art, like life, changes. 

What I do know is after the major abdominal surgery, I won’t be throwing cups or bowls anymore. But I still love clay and how it feels and how it forms and how it looks. And I can use underglazes to paint again which feels like a return to my creative watercolor ‘home’ but in a new way. 

Instead of putting myself down for not sticking to one art media, I want to let myself experiment. Embrace the fact that as my life changes and so does my art. 

And you know, to accept that, well it’s kind of a relief. 

Waiting

 

Today, I’m waiting. I know we all spend a lot of our time waiting. Waiting in lines. Waiting in traffic. Waiting for appointments. Waiting even longer on the phone to make appointments. 

I’m also always waiting on Mother Nature. Clay needs to take its time to dry, to be bisque fired and color added. Then another layer of color is added and another firing. 

Now, I have new ceramic pieces that need to be glaze fired to be finished. But outside the temperature today will be in the 90’s and I don’t need to create any more heat. So I’m waiting. I’ve really had enough heat for the summer, I’m ready for fall. 

Falling leaves and changing colors. 

My hydrangeas are already changing color. The beautiful blues and purples are slowly fading and this year, I’m not sure if they’ll turn that lovely shade of burgundy or fade to white. But right now, I’m enjoying them in their blue/purple loveliness along with the last of my roses. 

I used to hate fall. It meant back to school with lessons and homework. But now, I look forward to the cooler weather and falling leaves. Every year, I wait for a few trees in the park to drop their gorgeous big leaves. I pick them up carefully and take them back to my studio. 

Art from Mother Nature. 

I take these big beautiful leaves and carefully clean them, smooth them out and layer them underneath damp paper towels. I roll out slabs of white clay, carefully lay out a leaf and roll over it to press the leaf into the clay. As I roll, I press veins, edges and even holes into the clay to get all of the wonderful details that I love so much about these tree leaves. 

After I cut them out, they dry slowly under layers of plastic sheeting so they don’t crack. Once they’re dry enough, I bisque fire them. Then, they are washed with a blue/black underglaze I mix up and fired again. Once that’s done, I can glaze fire them. 

It’s a long process. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned working with clay, it’s worth the wait. 

Waiting is not easy. 

Taking the time to let clay or glaze dry

Mother Nature is more patient 

Each season comes in it’s own time

Something I am still learning

Making and Baking

 

Today, I got to do two things I really love to do. Make a blueberry peach crisp and bake some clay. With the weather cloudy and cool with a slight breeze, it’s a perfect day to do both. Just the smell of the peaches and blueberries in the oven makes me smile. 

And it gives me something to create while I kiln sit. 

Firing clay. 

I realized today it’s been almost 6 months since I’ve fired up the kiln. It seems like a long time but when you’re working with clay, patience is a key element. Pushing or rushing clay means cracks and broken pieces. I’ll admit I’m not the most patient person in the world but waiting has its rewards with clay. 

Loading the kiln is always a puzzle to solve. Since I make such different pieces, fitting them into the kiln takes a while to figure out. But again, it’s worth it in the end. 

Peachy goodness. 

I love the delicious bounty of peaches and blueberries in the summer. Last weekend, my husband and I made the trek to the local Farmer’s market to buy peaches from our favorite local farm. And while they were not ripe yet, I knew in a few days they would be perfect for baking. 

I’m one of those bakers who never makes a recipe exactly the same each time. This time I used old fashioned rolled oats, not instant and added a little orange juice. I like to experiment with texture and flavors like I experiment with clay. But not at the same time, of course. 

Making and baking

New clay creations firing 

Fresh peaches and blueberries cooking

Adding color to new creatures

All creating delicious fun