Moving Forward

 

  

One step at a time, I’m moving forward into this New Year and this new life. I’m feeling better. I’m eating and enjoying food for the first time in months.  My energy is returning. And the clouds are lifting from my body, mind and soul. Here’s the weird thing: I didn’t even realize how many clouds were hanging in, over and around me. I just thought it was the stress of change and everyday life. 

I was wrong. I was physically sick. I didn’t know it. When I finally got medical coverage, and started to think something might be wrong, I didn’t know what to do or where to go. The medical coverage was a difficult and confusing labyrinth requiring calls to a 1-800 number for pre-approval and the info given was conflicting and confusing. 

Bottom line: I had to wait too long to see a doctor. During the wait, my condition got worse. I’m very grateful to the urgent care doctors, surgeon and nurses. And I’ve very grateful to be well now. 

Picking up the pieces. 

The work in my studio had to sit for many months. There are pieces that were thrown and slab built during the summer and fall. Again, thinking I lacked motivation when I was really ill, they sat on the shelves. 

Now that I’ve recovered and my energy is back, I’ve been happily busy in the studio. New leaf plates got some color, too. Three new Lily Vases got underglazed in red. 

And I had fun painting three new polar bears and a cat. Next on the agenda is a bisque firing. Finally!

Moving with my heart and my hearts. 

I’m grateful to be packing up some heart themed pieces to take and sell at a local gallery. I loved making these heart mugs, teacups, wine cups and candle holders. And I’m hoping they bring color and love into other people’s lives. 

I’m so grateful to have more energy, appetite and strength. 

The grey fog that seemed to hang over me is gone. 

I feel renewed and ready to move forward. 

Putting my heart into my work and life.

Just in time for Valentine’s Day.    

Making and Baking and Moving On

It’s foggy outside making it hard to see the partial solar eclipse but that’s ok. Walking through the park, I can admire it anyway. I love the soft blurry light along side the crisp crescent edges. The park is quiet, even the ducks are silent. It’s calm and cozy beautiful. 

And I realize, as I walk along with Michael and Darby, that it’s all good. It’s a surprising feeling after all the unwanted change, grief, fear and frustration of the last 7 months. But somehow, like the fog, a sense of softness and serenity has enveloped me. Quietly.  Slowly. And without my conscious thought, I’m stepping into a new life. 

Making.

I’m a maker and a dreamer who sees things not just with my eyes, but with my hands. I love color and texture and words. I don’t always know what I’m doing but I do it anyway. I started out painting in watercolor when I was 16 and I fell in love with its flow and softness. Wet into wet watercolor is just so juicy and pure. 

Lately, I’ve been experimenting with using watercolor techniques on clay. I’m not quite there, yet, but I’m enjoying the process. Here’s what came out of the kiln this week. 

I’ve also been playing with small clay animals and angels. Maybe it’s the young grandchildren who fill my life right now that’s inspired these colorful characters. I’m not sure and I don’t think it really matters. They’re fun to make and isn’t that the goal?

Baking.  

It’s that time of year, cool and foggy, when I just love to bake. One of my favorites are Macaroon cookies. But now with all fall weather and misty mornings, I’m craving pumpkin bread. 

Baking up a loaf or two fills my kitchen with warm aromas and my heart with comfort. And what could be better than a warm slice right out of the oven with a freshly brewed cup of tea. 

Moving On.

Life changes and it changes us as well. I’ll admit I struggle with change, even when it’s a good change. My body and mind quiver with anxiety. I lose sleep. Sometimes I gain weight, sometimes I lose weight. And I know we‘ve all been through a lot of changes in the past three years, so you might be going through some of these feelings, too. 

Somehow, like the seasons, I’ve moved onward. It happened so slowly I didn’t even see it. But I feel it now. 

There’s a soft, quietness inside and around me

Wrapping around me like a warm sweater

I’m ok now, it’s saying

Breathe in, smell the fresh pumpkin bread baking

Sip your tea with a happy sigh. 

Clay Therapy

Most of my work, I do alone.  Throwing. Rolling. Pinching. Painting. Glazing. I love working in my studio and getting my hands into clay. No matter what I’m feeling or thinking, clay helps clear my mind, body and soul. 

With the recent life changes in my world and all the anxiety, I’ve needed my clay even more. There’s nothing like wedging a big piece of clay to relieve my stress. I laughingly call it, clay therapy. And I’m not alone. I saw a recent post about how there are things in soil that actually relieve depression and calm anxiety. 

Here’s what I found when I googled it: “Mycobacterium vaccae is the substance under study and has indeed been found to mirror the effect on neurons that drugs like Prozac provide. The bacterium is found in soil and may stimulate serotonin production, which makes you relaxed and happier.”

Figuring out new figures. 

I’ve done sculptures and masks in clay for many years. Lately, I’ve been experimenting with smaller figures and animals in a more abstract way. I’m leaning into the form or shapes rather than exacting detail. 

The new animal ideas are silly. 

But the new people feel both ancient and contemporary. 

New clay. 

For years, I’ve used a  porcelain clay for hand-building. It’s a nice, smooth, white clay but it needs gentle treatment. It has to be wrapped up to dry slowly and it cracks even under the best of circumstances. That means I lose pieces I’ve spent a lot of time making. Here are 5 of the new sculptures that didn’t crack.  

So I’m trying out a new clay that might be more sculpture friendly. But, I’m not sure I want to be friends. This clay is heavy and dense. It’s not pure white. And it feels sticky. The figures need to dry, so I don’t know how they will turn out. Luckily it will be worth the wait. 

Until then, I’ll keep playing with the new and old clay.

Wedging. Slapping. Rolling.

Easing my nerves  

Letting it help me move from then into now. 

Enjoy: Experimenting

 

Entering this new year, I felt a little lost. How was I feeling now? Where did I want to go? What did I want to do. These are questions I haven’t looked into in the last few years because all I could focus on in those years was survival.  Maybe you feel the same. 

Taking an online workshop this week, I was able to see it all more clearly. Tara Mohr presented a free workshop called “Restore and Reimagine”. As I listened to the recording, I felt calmer and more centered. Hearing other women talk about how they were feeling in this new year, I felt less alone. 

Restore. Reclaim. 

I love words and I respect their power. Words can challenge and comfort, give insight and inspiration. When I pick my word of the year, I look for one that helps me move forward. I also look for phrases and quotes. I mix and match all this with sketches, small watercolors and pictures and make a collage on my studio bulletin board. And I put some up on my refrigerator. 

Phrases like: ‘take life back’ and ‘fresh start’ popped up. I wasn’t sure what they meant for me or my art, but I put them up anyway. The online workshop helped me see these phrases more clearly. What I really wanted was not to go back to my old life back but to restore and reclaim my life now. 

How do I do that? Reimagine. 

I had so many things fall apart around me. Closures. Shows. Work routines. Home disasters. I worked hard in and around it all. I knew what I had loved to do and make. But now it’s time to take stock. It’s time to ask questions and open up to new ideas. What do I want to create? Where do I want to be? What brings me enjoyment? 

One thing I enjoy is color. When I was 16 years old, I started doing watercolors and now I do clay. I wondered: what would happen if I did both? Is it possible? And how would it work? I let go of the questions and decided to let myself reimagine. 

Rolling clay, smooth and soft

Mixing watery sunset colors

Washing a sky 

Tilting and turning and dripping

Trees appear  

Enjoying the flow

Grateful

 

Looking out the window as the sun sets on this very cold day, I’m very grateful. I’m warm. I’m safe. I’m healthy. I have work to do that I love. My life and path has evolved with the help and guidance and generosity of many people. Some I know and some I don’t. 

I never forget those helpers. And this time of year, I want to let them all know just how grateful I am. 

Teachers

I’ve had great teachers and some not so great. But in each case, I learned lessons that have served me. When I was lost teenager at a new school in a new city, art found me. My art teacher encouraged me to draw and learn calligraphy. An experienced watercolor artist taught me how do soft Payne’s gray skies and gave me one of his paintings to encourage me. It hangs in my new living room. Every time I look at it, I remember his kindness to a scared 16 year old in a class full of 35 year old moms. 

My first clay classes were disasters. Forty years later, I finally found a teacher who turned that around. Literally. She took one look at how I was placing my hands on the wheel and saw the problem. I needed to throw left handed and that meant turning the wheel the opposite way. Instantly, it all felt right. Nothing flew off the wheel or fell on the ground! The clay centered and stayed and grew into a small bowl. I was amazed. 

I was told to say as a child that I was ambidextrous. But this teacher told me that was often said to children who were really left-handed at a time when being left-handed was discouraged. I’m glad I found that out and glad that I can use both hands, too. 

Helpers

I started showing my work in galleries over 20 years ago. But it was the kindness of Graystone Gallery owner, Bill Murray who got it all started and I’ll never forget it. I’d been to his gallery and loved his shows. I had taken art and sculpture classes for years and finally made some pieces out of window screening and paint. I wanted to show them in his annual mask show but I was terrified. I made an appointment, drove to his gallery with my pieces and asked. He said, “Yes”. 

Years later, I met a wonderful couple who bought one of my copper masks at Graystone. They offered me their old kiln and wheel. They weren’t using them and wanted to pass them on. Their generosity helped me learn to throw and glaze and fire all the bowls, cups, vases and figures I now make and show and sell. 

To all my teachers

All my helpers 

All the gallery owners, studio visitors, neighbors, friends and family

Your teaching, help, support, generosity, kindness and love have turned my life into a creative journey I could never have dreamed possible. 

I am grateful. Forever. 

Wheel Keep On Turning

 

It was time. Ok, beyond time actually, still I hesitated. Was it in the right place? What kind of adjustments would be needed? Would it still work? Most important, would I remember how to work on it? 

I used to love throwing, but would I still love it after almost a year away? If you read my blog, you’ll know about the trials over the last year. Let’s just say, it’s hard to create when your home is torn apart, your studio is a storage space and your wheel is covered to protect it from construction debris. 

Thankfully, reconstruction is done. 

Studio time.  

I headed back to my clay with a notebook full of new ideas. Small sculptures. Luminaires. I collected new leaves at the park. Still, it took some time and patience to get the joy of clay back into my life again. 

Slab building was my first clay love and I still love it. Rolling out clay with music playing in the background is wonderful. Trying out new forms and figures was a challenge, too. Sometimes what I draw doesn’t look the same in clay as it does on paper. 

But sometimes, if I don’t fight it, I find my way to something else instead. Something new and unexpectedly joyful. 

Facing the wheel at last. 

My wheel sat silent and still for a year. There was dust, debris and bugs. The clay I had left out in the garage was hard and spotted with mold. I’ll admit, I just had a hard time getting out there. But the boxes were gone. The debris was cleared. My wheel area was set up and clean. 

It was time. I opened a new bag of clay, cut a few chunks and settled at the wheel. Would I remember how to throw? Would I just make a mess? I decided it didn’t matter, if I made anything at all. What mattered was sitting down and putting my hands in the clay. 

Sigh. It was everything I remembered about throwing. Cool clay turning into a warm round mound. Pushing and pulling and smoothing and coaxing the blob into a bowl. Or two. 

But here’s the biggest reasons for my wheel to keep on turning. 

The wheel helps me:

Sit in one place. 

Use my hands instead of my head. 

Center myself from imbalanced to balanced. 

And feel anxiety replaced by peace. 

Making My Own Joy

 

I read an email last week from author, Martha Beck about how to find joy that lasts. I thought, ok, I’m game. How do I do that?

There are many things in my life that bring me joy. Walking along the beach. Gazing at beautiful sunsets and cerulean skies. Movies, concerts, plays and parades. These are all wonderful, good, exciting events. Yes. Do they happen everyday? No. And that’s ok. 

Martha’s point: “Don’t get me wrong. Excitement is a great and necessary thing; without it, life wouldn’t be complete. But happiness-real happiness-is something entirely different, at once calmer and more rewarding. And cultivating it is one of the most important steps we can take toward creating fulfilling lives.”

What can we do to get there? Martha’s two word answer: “make something”. 

I am a ‘life-long’ maker. But not a ‘life-long’ seller. 

Since childhood, I’ve loved making things. Doll cloths. Mud towns. Drawings with a matchstick dipped in ink. Watercolor, acrylic, oil and pastel paintings. Crochet art and garments. Now I make teacups, bowls, sculptures, masks and more in clay. 

But in the last few weeks, I stopped making and started looking at all the things I’ve made. Not everything I make sells. My marketing brain kicked in and started evaluating my ‘products’ sorting them into sold and not. Obviously, my inner marketer saw that I should make more of this and less of that. 

It didn’t take me long to figure out, product production is not my way to happiness. 

The key to making my own joy. 

When I’m creating, I’m calm. I’m totally in the moment. With clay in my hands, I move with what intuitively feels right. Making my leaves feels like a soothing dance between hand and clay. 

Even if I’m trying out new ideas and struggling a little bit, I’m still making my own joy. 

According to Martha Beck, “To get a dopamine "hit," make something that pushes you to the furthest edge of your ability, where you're not only focused but learning and perfecting skills. Creative work causes us to secrete dopamine, a hormone that can make us feel absorbed and fulfilled without feeling erratic. Research indicates that we're most creative when we're happy and relaxed, and conversely, that we can steer our brains into this state by undertaking a creative task.”

So this week, I took her advice. 

I made some new clay figures.  

I made more clay leaf plates and platters. 

But what I really made was joy. 

Studio Joy

 

Hello August! I can’t believe you’re here, already. Time, they say, flys when you’re having fun and I believe it’s true. In the last week or so, days have flown by leaving me wondering: what did I do? Where did the time go? 

When time becomes timeless like that, some call it being in the zone. You’re moving naturally through the day. You’re doing without doing. You’re being in the moment and when that moment’s gone, you move on to the next. It all just happens seamlessly. 

Flow and mud and heat. 

When I moved back home in May, I had two shelves of work to bisque, glaze and fire. I couldn’t do it then, obviously, because I had 150+ boxes to unpack and a lot of reorganization to do. I managed to get the bisque firing done but again, they sat. Finally, the garage was cleared too. 

I did my first glaze of new pieces in a year! I’ll admit, I was nervous because I hadn’t been able to glaze or fire anything in 14 months. What had been automatic set up, glazing and clean up, now felt weird and new. But I dove in, got it all set up and was amazed at how fast time flew by. My soft, mud wonderful clay was now colorful ceramic bowls, plates and teacups. 

Polishing and final touches. 

I didn’t know or appreciate until I started making my own pieces, just how many steps over many days and months it takes to produce finished bowls and cups and vases. 

I know it took me longer because of my situation, obviously. But even so, there are many, many stages to taking clay and turning it into a bowl or cup. I’m not complaining, I love the process. And while I worry while my pieces fire, I’m always grateful when I open the kiln. 

This time felt like Christmas morning. I’ve been waiting for a whole year and to see my bowls and cups bright and shiny was pure joy. 

 

Summertime Joys

 

I have fond memories of childhood summers reading the afternoon away in the shade. Games of tag on the lawn after dinner. Spending the entire day at the neighborhood swimming pool.

Even when it gets too hot to be outside too long, I love the sun shining in. Flowers blooming. Garden growing. Little ones splashing away including the biggest baby of them all, my black lab, Darby. 

Snapshots of summer. 

Salad growing in the garden. Pick some leaves, add meat or fish or cheese and feast. 

Lavender in full bloom. Fresh mixed with roses or dried in your closet, it’s such a lovely scent. And did you know, lavender also keeps moths away from your clothes. 

Patio pots and baskets adding more color for you and food for hummingbirds and bees. 

Sprinkles and splashing and water fun. At home, in the pool or sprinklers or away in one of many city parks. 

Beautiful sunsets. My favorite time of day, watching that sun slowly sink behind the trees in all its yellow, orange and red glory. 

Summer of love. 

Unlike the last, this is a summer to love. My home is whole. My family is healthy. And even though on some days, it’s too hot to fire up the kiln and my bisque pieces have to wait, I can still create. 

Taking better photos of my pieces. And putting them on Etsy. 

Reorganizing my new studio desk space. Designing new business cards. 

Taking the time everyday 

Seeing the purples, pinks and bright greens.

Smelling the roses and lavenders.

Picking fresh blueberries, tomatoes and lettuce.

Filling up on the true joys of summer.