Light Moves

 

The sun is streaming in my windows this afternoon and it makes me smile. I feel warm and cozy and safe. These are feelings I haven’t felt in a while, quite a while. But rather than focus on the past, I want to focus on here and now. 

Like this morning’s walk in the park with my grandson, Madden. It was clear and cool but not cold. The ducks and geese were all busy swimming in the lake. As my husband and I walked along enjoying the views, Madden took a short nap after having his pumpkin pancakes for breakfast. 

Glazing and Firing, finally. 

Slowly, the shelves in my studio were getting full and that makes me happy. Because of the recent health issues, it’s taken me longer than usual to get to the point of having enough work to glaze and fill the kiln. But today, I did it!

It’s truly a mix of work. Some thrown bowls I did back in August. There are little plates and big plates I worked on with my granddaughter, Meyer for her little brother, Madden. Some new red Lily Vases. A few new figures, which I’ll admit, I’m not too excited about but we’ll see. 

Lightening Up. 

It’s been a heavy year for me and my family. A very heavy year: lay offs, health insurance problems, unexpected health issues, hospitalization and recovery. For months, I’ve felt overwhelmed and traumatized by all of it. 

But today, walking through the park, I felt lighter. Breathing in the air and sunshine, I felt healthy and strong. And I looked forward to loading the kiln and firing new pieces.

It’s time to let the sunshine in

To breathe sweet air, give light baby kisses

And feel my heart, soul and feet

Making light moves 

Again

Grateful

It’s been a crazy year with so much change. And I’ll admit, I’m still in the process of coping with it all. Now, I have more good days than not good days. That’s progress. And, I am also very aware of how fortunate I am to be here on this earth, in my home with people I love and who love me. 

My family and friends and supporters are true treasures, whether they are two or four footed. Whether it’s sitting quietly reading, taking a trip to the craft store, helping me show my work,  walking in the park or giving me a giggle, I’m grateful for them everyday. 

Grateful for mud and yarn.

Putting my hands in soft, squishy, clay is one of the most therapeutic things I can do. It calms my swirling mind. It soothes my spirit. And it gives me something to do that I can show and sell. 

Being creative and productive is essential to my mind and body. I don’t take it for granted that I have the ability and opportunity to make things in my studio. Even if a piece takes a wrong turn, I see it as a challenge to turn it around again. Or, and this is hard for me, let it be what it wants to be instead of what I thought it would be. 

Crochet is another therapy for me. I take it out in the evening while we’re watching TV and just let my hands get into the rhythm of stitching. I’ve made so many blankets lately, everyone in the family has one (whether they wanted one or not). Then i saw all these knitted pumpkins in stores and decided to try my hand on a crochet pumpkin with leftover yarn. It didn’t turn out too bad. Now, I’m moving on to making a few hats for the new grand baby. After that? Who knows? 

Grateful for home. 

My husband and I designed and built our home many decades ago. It was a stretch for us, but we did it. Since then, we’ve repainted, reroofed, redone many of the spaces. Even though the  flood caused a major upset and change, I’m grateful we’re still here. 

Outside this year, we were challenged by the city and neighbors to fix the sidewalk broken by a huge Dedora Cedar tree. The city demanded we fix the sidewalk. And our neighbors demanded we cut down the tree because they hated the needles falling on their cars. I’m grateful for the expert arborists who helped us figure out how to fix the sidewalk and trim the tree. So it still stands tall and beautiful. 

Grateful. Yes, I am.  

For love and support and family and friends.

For my mud and clay lovers and gallery owners.

For my home and garden and trees. 

For all of us on this planet who move together to make this a better world. 

Season of Change

 

I can’t believe it’s November already. Leaves have fallen. The garden is harvested. And trees, bushes and flowers have been trimmed. Mother Nature is shortening the sunshine getting us all ready for winter. I don’t know if I’m ready, yet. 

I do love the color changes. Hydrangeas turn from bright blue to burgundy as they dry in vases around the house. Leaves float down in shades of bright yellow, gold and red. I always find this season inspiring which leads to different work in the studio. 

Changing leaves. 

It’s this time of year when I can collect my favorite leaves in the park. I admit, I don’t know the species of tree. Maybe it’s a Maple? But I love the shape and size and structure of these leaves. So I carefully collect them and carry them home putting them under light plastic covers to keep them fresh. 

In the studio, I roll out my favorite clay and carefully imprint each leaf on it. Then, I draw through the clay following the leaf shape and place each one on the shelf to slowly dry. 

What starts out as leaf and clay ends as a finished porcelain plate or platter in shades of gray or burgundy. 

Changing life. 

My husband and I are into a new life phase many call ‘retirement’. I don’t like the word because it implies we are not doing anything but sitting around. And it’s definitely not true for us. 

We may not be working 9-5 but we are both still active and productive. We are both taking care of our grandchildren several times a week. We walk every day and we are both producing creative work. 

He’s busy writing and producing new podcasts on Substack. 

I’m busy in the studio making sculptures, leaves and lily vases. And selling my work in a new local gallery. 

Like the seasons, life changes. 

And while somethings fall away, 

Other things can bloom and grow. 

We can’t stop time from flying, 

But we can enjoy the flight. 

Hello July!

I can’t believe summer is rolling by quite so fast. Roses are blooming. Tomatoes and zucchini  are ripening. And the smell of lavender out in the yard fills the air. It is luscious.  

To add more summer fun, our neighborhood had a small 4th of July parade. When my children were little we had a big parade complete with a Mom flag drill team, Dads with lawnmowers, kids with decorated bikes and wagons. And the local fire department truck leading the way. This year, new neighbors put together a short parade with a firetruck too! It was so fun to see my ‘kids’ and grandkids having fun marching through the neighborhood once again. 

Madden Mondays and Meyer Friday. 

Every Monday, little Madden comes to play with us. He goes for a walk around the lake while he naps. He rolls on his blanket, grabs his toys and giggles. He takes his bottle and plays some more and naps. He’s a delightful, little guy.

I used to watch my granddaughter, Meyer on Mondays until she started kindergarten. I loved it. And Meyer and I had some wonderful times: baking muffins, playing with play dough and painting in the studio. This last week, we had 2 days to play! We went to the park. And played in the studio with real clay making plates from porcelain clay. So much fun!

Slow clay. 

I said I was taking the summer off so I didn’t set up any expectations for my studio work. I let go of my old routines and process. Things sat. And I didn’t do much of anything for awhile. 

But a strange thing began to happen: small animals started showing up on my studio shelves. Little flower characters popped up. And a few penguins waddled in to visit. 

I just went in to play around and now, look what I found!

Life is full of surprises. Some good. Some not. One thing I’m learning is to let the feelings flow and take the time I need to take care of myself. Reading and resting. Walking a bit slower while my knee heals. And letting the clay play itself out into whatever form it wants. 

Taking the summer off isn’t what I’d thought it would be. 

It’s not boring or lifeless

It’s calm and restful. 

And surprisingly creative and fun. 

A Season of Change

Hours tick tock into a day. Days flip like cards into weeks. Weeks fall into months. I’m always amazed by the amount of time passing through my life. Time feels like it happens around me instead of through me.

Lost in minutiae, I don’t see the minutes marching by me. I have to admit, I like being lost in the flow most of the time. Throwing clay on the wheel. Rolling a slab for a vase. Mixing and painting a teacup or bird. Creating is my way to be lost and found in time. 

Summer is gone and it’s September?

It’s hard to believe. Covid has turned everything upside down worldwide causing so much pain, sorrow, anger and fear. Fall is coming but not with schools starting or harvest festivals or art shows or open studios.

I remember how excited my children were to go back to school. I think of how many will not even be able to go kindergarten. They won’t be able to run into a freshly decorated classroom with their names on cubbies, new paints on easels and sharpened pencils ready to use.

Bye Bye Birthday parties and hello Birthday drive byes. 

My grandson’s 1st birthday was in late August but with Covid restrictions, a traditional birthday party was out of the question. But my lovely daughter came up with a creative way to give her baby his first birthday anyway. 

With The Hungry Caterpillar theme, we went to work making clay ornaments. 

A caterpillar made of cupcakes. 

And a flying butterfly from clay. 

Luckily, it was a nice day for an outside, drive-by party. And everyone did a great job of staying safe, enjoying cupcakes and celebrating baby Cieran’s first year on our planet (in spite of Covid).

    

Lost time. 

Six months. I can’t believe that Covid has been here that long already. I spent many days, weeks and months between denial and fear. As a self-employed person, I clung to my routine. I threw and rolled and painted and fired and glazed and fired again.

Even as my shows were cancelled and galleries closed, I filled my studio shelves with bowls, birds, vases and teacups. I did social media promotions, online craft fairs and opened an Etsy shop. I worked and waited and hoped it would all end soon. 

 A season of change. 

Yes, Covid is still here. I’m still creating and working. But I’m still worried and wondering how and when will all this end? Will my granddaughter ever get to run happily into her classroom? How can we all change and recover together?

As I leaned on Mother Cedar this morning, I felt a sliver of warm sunshine and heard a message. “Take this small slice of light and let it into your soul. Let it warm you and lift you and heal you. And give it to everyone around you.”

Forward into the Past

This week in the studio, I stepped forward into the past. Long before I had my own children, I took care of and taught little children in a local pre-school/daycare. 

I loved setting up the tables every morning with colorful toys, play dough and paints. Making wall art from their art. Setting up learning stations, reading corners, dress up and home areas. One day, I set up a long piece of butcher paper on the school patio with trays of paints and empty thread spools, small balls and sponges for the children to roll, toss, drop and splat with abandon. The mess was all easily sprayed away with the hose. The giggles were priceless. 

Teacher to mother to artist. 

When my own were born, I gave up my job as a creative in advertising to be a creative mom. And had the joy of setting up toys and paints and craypas for my own little children. I volunteered in their classrooms and taught art literacy. 

As their lives moved on, I moved onward too. I took classes and worked in watercolor, pastels, oils, copper and finally came back to clay which I did in high school. 

Around it goes again. 

I am so fortunate to be here for my grown children and their children. I love my Mondays with Meyer and now Cieran gets to come and play, too. I have a trunk of toys, a tiny kitchen, books, a dress up area and, of course, a storage cube filled with kid-friendly art supplies. 

Last week, we honored Eric Carle’s book, “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” again. This time, we made individual ornaments using Cieran’s toes for the caterpillar and a beautiful butterfly out of clay. These will all be fired and painted and ready in time for his one year birthday. 

Remembering the joy. 

This is what I so easily forget: the sheer joy of creating. The soft, squishiness of fresh clay. Colors flowing and mixing. Finding a new line. Adding a dot. Pressing a stamp, a piece of lace or hardware to make a new texture. 

Pressing the words into the wings of the new butterfly is a different kind of writing. It’s still a way to hear my soul speak. And especially now, to pass on those messages to my children and my children’s children. And to you, too. 

And hopefully, as we move forward from this time maybe the joys of the past can come with us in a new way.

Moving while Staying in Place

I’m the first to admit, these past five months created many new challenges, difficulties, sorrows and fears. As an artist, I saw my opportunities fall like bricks one by one and the bricks keep falling. As a mother, I worried for my sons, daughter and grandchildren’s health and safety. As a friend, I lost connections when I needed them most. 

There were many times, I felt my heart and soul cringe at the hard shell building around my city and country. Seeing violence and fear shatter so many lives, I found myself building a shell around myself, too. 

Creating from inside helped me out. 

With more inventory than opportunities, my head said it was time to stop making. Stop throwing. Stop building. Stop painting. But my heart cried out louder saying making, throwing, building and painting is your only hope right now. 

Creating is your only move toward light, even if everything you create has to stay home. 

It became a very slow process. I had no normal routine. I didn’t set a schedule and there was no deadline to meet. But I threw small bowls. I built new teapots and painted new birds. 

Moving closer. 

I know I’m lucky in many, many ways. I am healthy. My spouse and children and grandchildren are all fine. Even as they struggle to juggle home, work and babies. They are finding their way in this crazy covid world. 

And they are moving closer to home. This month, after 6 years away, I welcomed my daughter, son-in-law and grand-baby back to Oregon. And my son also moved closer to us. 

Now on Mondays, we have Meyer and Cieran and Colin and Caitlin and Kyle to see. Now we  get to walk with them to the park. Watch them swing. Slide down the slide. All at the same park where my now grown ‘children’ used to play. 

Learning a new pace in the same place. 

This difficult time forced me to break the shell of routine. Work away worry. Discover moving slowly is my new pace. And welcome my family home while staying in place. 

How about you? Is it possible to stand aside from the pain and fear, just a little? To look beyond these five months and see some light, movement, possibilities and maybe, some good?