Passed the test. Failed to use it.

About 25 years ago, I took a test and found out I was a VKA. That stands for Visual, Kinesthetic, and Audio. It’s a learning style. Mine. And although I thought it was interesting, I didn’t see the point for me because I was ‘done’ with school, right? Wrong.

It went something like this: I took the test as part of a volunteer orientation at the local Children’s Museum. They wanted to show volunteers the importance of learning styles and how they used that in their exhibits. It was fascinating, especially since my original college major was early childhood development. At the time, I had one pre-school daughter and another boy on the way. I couldn’t wait to test them, find out their learning styles and use it to help them learn and grow.

After I was tested as VKA, I was told that I would be very good working with my hands. Creating art, especially, functional art because my test showed that I was good at seeing not just form but function and putting the two together would be natural for me. The tester, a woman with great insight, asked me, “So, do you love to work in clay?” I nodded because I had worked in clay in high school and college and I did like it. She went on, “You’re a potter, aren’t you?” I shook my head because using the wheel in ceramics class had been an embarrassing nightmare.

Here’s where I failed: Not using the information for myself. Because I thought I was done with school.

Surprise, a few years later, I went back to school. I took art classes in everything but clay. Why? Fear. My fear of failure with clay was so great because my love of clay was so great. I made clay masks and small sculptures but they became parts of my bigger mixed media pieces or sat unfinished in my closet. I switched to working in copper and window screening giving up on clay, once again. Until one day a generous man came to my studio, saw my clay work and gave me his kiln and wheel. I got the kiln up and running, but the wheel gathered dust for several years. Fear, again.

Another surprise, I went back to class again. This time, I took wheel throwing. I struggled, not just with the wheel, but with my fear. One day as I was folding laundry, I’d had enough. I had two choices- never use the wheel again and live with my fear of failure or get out there and conquer it.

I threw down the towels, went outside, pulled the wheel out of the dusty corner and slapped a ball of clay on the wheel head. I sat down. Somehow, magically, a bowl appeared on the wheel. Then I made another and another and another.

Today, in my studio, I have two 6 foot shelves filled with bowls, mugs, vases and more stashed in my kitchen. I made so many this year, I donated bowls to support the local food bank. And, the biggest surprise of all? People actually want to buy my bowls, cups and vases. For the first time, my kids ask if they can have some of my pieces.

I passed the learning styles test alright. But I failed to see what it was trying to show me. If I’d listened 25 years ago, who knows how many more bowls I’d have made by now?

So, here’s my word of wisdom to you. Take the test here. Figure out what learning style you are. Then, take a look at your life and see if there’s a way to put it to work for you. Now.

Oh, and give the test to your partner, kids, grandkids, best friends. Why? Because it might help them see themselves in a much clearer light. And it might help you see why they are the way they are.

And to the woman in charge of the Children’s Museum in Portland, Oregon 25 years ago: THANKS!

Because of the seed you planted all those years ago, today, I’m proud to say, that yes, I am a ceramic artist creating functional and sculptural work in clay!

I don’t miss my childhood. I miss my children’s childhood.

It’s the first day of school here. The kids next door put on their new back to school outfits, packed their fresh school supplies into their shiny, backpacks and got their pictures taken by their mom. It made me happy to hear that someone else does all those back to school traditions, too.

And it made me sad. My ‘kids’ are all grown up now. I’m so proud of them. Both are healthy, working and independent. They are becoming great grownups.
But, I miss their childhood.

My children had craypas, tempera paints and homemade playdough. I made muffins for snacks. When it was too rainy to play in the sandbox, I filled a tub with commercial bags of rice and beans and let them play in it, dump trucks and all. I made finger paints with cornstarch and food coloring and taped butcher paper to the floor. And there were many indoor teddy bear picnics, plays, rock and roll dancing, and parades featuring kazoos and pot and pan drum sections. The shower curtain in the main bathroom featured hand painted, handprints in primary colors done by my children. My garage became a roller blade dance hall or hockey arena, Cub Scout meeting place, art studio or soccer field depending on the day. Days moved by in a blur as I tried to keep up with those four little feet running ahead of me. When they went off to school, I followed behind them, volunteering in the classroom and doing art literacy.

Yup. It was messy and loud. Something always needed fixing or finding or cleaning. It was full of giggles and screams and fears and fevers. And I lost a lot of sleep but I gained so very, very much.

So this week, mothers and fathers out there, as your children head off to school and you get a chance to put your feet up for a few minutes, look around you. Take in every gooey, sticky, crayon covered wall, the piles of legos, dolls and dishes, trails of dirty socks and t-shirts and stuffed unicorns.

Stop. Look. And breathe it all in. Yup, even the stinky stuff.

Because, believe it or not, one day the house will be clean. The walls will be freshly painted. There will be new, un-pumpkin stained carpet with clean furniture. The beds will be made. You will not be missing any socks. It will look beautiful.

But you will be missing one of the most beautiful things in the world that you loved... your children’s childhood.

Clay: It brings out the kid in all of us.

Playing in the mud. When you work in clay, you’re really playing with mud. You can throw it(on a wheel) and make a mud pie dish. Or roll it, pinch it and make a mud face. That’s what my class of happy elementary school kids did the last 5 weeks. They played with mud and made faces.

Lions, tigers and kitties. Owls, ogres and witches. They had a great time creating from their imaginations while learning basic clay techniques like slab and coil construction. I bisque fired their masks, then they added layers of paint, fur, feathers and wiskers.

It was an energetic, creative and curious group. The time just flew by each week as we learned, experimented and played with clay. There’s just nothing like putting your hands in the mud to bring out the kid in all of us.

PMM: My daughter, the teacher.

Caitlin started singing when she was five. Today she's teaching children and adults to sing and play the piano. It all started for her in the backyard, where she belted out 'Part of Your World' from The Little Mermaid movie holding the rain sprinkler head like a microphone. She was so good, the neighbors wanted to know where she got her great voice. She did not get it from me.

In 6th grade, Caitlin had the lead in the school's Gilbert & Sullivan operetta. She started voice lessons at age 15. She auditioned and received a college scholarship in vocal music and graduated with honors and a Bachelor of Music. She's sung in operas, choirs, and toured Europe.

Now she's taking her love of music and passing it on. These are pictures of her with her new students after their first recital of the year. As an mom, I'm proud of my daughter's hard work, dedication and talent. As an artist, I'm proud of the fact that she's passing on her skills and love of her art to others.

I think the best thing we can do as humans is give our best to each other, pass on our talents, shine a light into the dark and help someone else find their way. I'm proud to see Caitlin's light shine the way for herself and others.

Student to artist to teacher to student again.

Learning is a life long process that circles from learning to doing to teaching and for me, back to learning again. In my last blog I wrote about taking a writing workshop. I'm also taking clay classes. And even though I've taken clay classes, produced clay sculptural work, written professionally and taught classes, I love being a student again.

First lesson learned: I throw clay left handed. I write right handed. Yep. That's why all those years ago in ceramics class, I could never throw a pot, bowl, cup or anything straight. In fact, I was so bad, even the teacher suggested I should stay away from the wheel. Ok, to be fair, my clay had the habit of spinning off my wheel at a high speeds and hitting the wall. But, really, I was trying to do it the right way. Now, I know what was wrong, thanks to Jan, my new teacher who watched me and asked me, "Are you left handed?" "Sometimes," I replied. So, she stopped the wheel, flipped the toggle switch up instead of down and finally it felt right.

Second lesson learned: Potter's wheels turn counter clockwise for right handed people and clockwise for left handed people. Amazing. I never knew there was a choice. And to be fair, I wasn't given a choice. I was to be right handed, period. I've found as an adult, that I do somethings well right handed and somethings well left handed and sometimes I can just use whatever hand is handy.

Third lesson learned: I can throw a bowl. And it isn't horrible, a little wonky maybe, and I needed instruction on some of the steps. But I was able to get it centered and pulled up and pushed out all on my own. Left handed, of course.

Biggest lesson learned: Knowledge is not only powerful but empowering. It's never too late to learn and turn a failure into a success.

Now, I can't wait to learn more about glazes, slips, raku and oxides...oooh what fun!

Show and Tell on Saturday

Torches were lit. Cement dust was flying. Wax was melting on the pancake griddle. Glue was drying and screening was bent into shape as seven members of the Pacific Northwest Sculptors Guild demonstrated their work at Evergreen Aviation this last Saturday.

It was a sunny Saturday, a little windy, a little warm, but still good weather for demonstrating. I've done quite a bit of demos over the last two years, so I'm much more comfortable with it than I used to be. Doing my artwork is usually a solitary experience, but doing a demo is part performance, part education and part meet and greet. But it’s a great way to show and tell people about your work, get to know other artists and learn some new techniques, too. The demos were done in conjunction with the PNWS group show at Evergreen Aviation this month.

I bent screening and pushed into copper sheeting to demonstrate my sculptural mask making and copper repousse’ work. Inside the IMAX building, Stephan Seable set up a children’s clay area, where he worked with young visitors introducing them to clay, his favorite sculpture medium.

Carole Murphy worked on her cement sculpture and encouraged visitors to try their hand at sculpting this unique material. Rick Gregg and Lyn Simon shared torches and demonstrated metal welding and creating patinas on steel and copper.
Renee Oberdorf melted different colors of wax on a pancake griddle, and then painted in layers on a wood background demonstrating the sculptural qualities of encaustic. Fortunato Ramirez dipped paper in glue and placed it in layers on large glass circles which he uses as molds for his paper mache’ sculptures.

All in all, it was a nice day to be outside, something you can't always say in the rainy Pacific Northwest. And I really enjoyed meeting new people, showing them what I do and watching their reactions when they tried on my screening masks. Show and tell is still fun even after all these years.