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.  

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.

Thank you 2025 Word of the Year: Thrive

 

I’ve had a hell of a few years from 2022 to 2025. Here’s a recap:

2022 - 4th of July flood in my house, damage took a year to repair. 

2023 - My husband got laid off. We lost income and health insurance. It took 6 months for me to get Social Security and Medicare. 

2024 - The year of Misdiagnosed Illness that ended in major surgery to repair. 

2025 - Recovery from surgery both physical and emotional. Didn’t know about PTSD

But I’m here. I survived. And that’s why I picked Thrive as last years word of the year. 

Because I wanted and needed and hoped, now I’d be able to Thrive, not just survive.   

And I did. 

It wasn’t easy or fun. There was still pain and physical limits. And after I worked my way through all that, I got hit upside the head with trauma. Now, I’d had surgery before: 2 C sections, 1 broken wrist, 1 skin cancer removal. But none of them hit me like this surgery did. Every little twinge sent me into the fear zone. 

And I understand it now, thanks to support from others who’ve been through it. And books about it. And, most importantly, thank you, my  Substack friends who have been down this rough road ahead of me and were here to shine a light for me to see by.  

Art as therapy. Throwing is out. 

After the surgery, I couldn’t do my art the same way anymore. I used to love throwing clay on the wheel. But it uses my abdominals and it was very uncomfortable. I had to let it go and move on. Honestly, now I know, it was time anyway.

I was gifted a wheel and kiln from a wonderfully supportive couple decades ago. They loved my copper work, saw my clay work and gave me a huge gift. I was a failure at throwing in high school. (Cue embarrassing clay incident: clay sailing off wheel and hitting the wall behind me. WTF) Yeah. I went back to ‘school’ and learned to throw. I even sold it at shows and galleries. 

But I’m not a production potter. What I truly love is sculpture and faces and masks. And over the months, my surgery recovery led me back to where I’d began. I didn’t realize it at first. I was just ‘goofing’ around and trying to do whatever my body would allow. 

Relief.

It all started with doodling. When I was still unable to do much, I was gifted with a set of sparkle gel pens and a drawing pad. Some days, all I could do was doodle. Maybe swish some watercolor paints around. And crochet. 

But I worked my way back to my studio. I had a little clay left, so I rolled it out and played around. Here’s what found me: drawings and watercolors coming to life in clay. What a weird idea, right? 

I made one, then another and another. 

Then a face appeared. It sat on the shelf, alone. Until one day, I looked up at the sunflowers in my kitchen and got an idea. 

Soon, in addition to the sunflower, a poppy, gingko and oak leave reliefs appeared. 

I’m not sure how or where I’m going to be able to show them. But I’m hoping  somewhere, somehow, someone will help make it happen. 

That these new pieces, along with me, will thrive. 

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.