The Power of Mud

 

There’s one thing that’s helping me stay sane right now. 

Mud. 

Yup, mud.

Some people call it clay. I buy mine from a local clay company. But the components of clay are found in nature.  According to Wikipedia, “It’s a natural product of the erosion of igneous rocks like granite and feldspar. It breaks down over millions of years into fine particles which collect in riverbeds, lake basins and coastal areas, where they are found as sedimentary deposits.”

So, yeah. It’s mud that’s been washed by rain and eroded by rocks. And it’s now in my studio in a nice, neat plastic bag. And I love opening the bag and slicing off a thick slab of it. Slapping it down, folding it over and kneading it into a ball or rolling it into a slab on my canvas covered board. 

Then the fun begins.

My hands get muddy. My mind climbs into the backseat. And my soul sighs. I can make so many things from one chunk of mud. 

A vase. 

A face. 

A bowl. 

A bird. 

A leaf platter.

These are finished pieces. Piece by piece, they’re rolled and stamped and shaped and painted and dried very slowly. But they all started out as a chunk of mud. So fun. 

Then the work of finishing. 

Today, I did a part of the process that’s my least favorite: glazing.  Why is it my least favorite? I think it’s because it’s all about chemicals and precision: waxing, mixing, testing for the right consistency, dipping, catching drips and wiping. Then there’s the clean up. Ugh. 

There’s also a lot of set up and clean up involved because my studio is inside my house. I have to cover the tables and floor, bring in buckets of water and towels and sponges. It’s work. 

Mud, madness, and sanity. 

Yes, it’s work. But it’s also play. Bringing out my childhood love of playing in the woods in the dirt. And right now, with all the dirt and scandal, the most powerful thing I can do for myself is play in the mud. 

Try it. It might help. And you might find playing in the dirt is more fun than reading about it. 

 

Finding Some Calm in the Storm

 

I don’t want to give in to the vortex of evil swirling around in this country. I’m aware and outraged. It is traumatic. I  understand everyone has their own ways to deal with it and while some are shouting and violent, I have to look for peaceful paths. 

I’ve had a year of physical issues that led to surgery and months of recovery. I’m learning to lean into what is best for my body, heart and mind. Walking in the park has helped me through sickness, surgery and life changes. And it’s helping me now to deal with the mess in the big White House. 

Stay rooted.  

That’s the message from my tree in the woods. As a child, my place of safety and calm was the woods nearby our suburban neighborhood. I sat leaning up against the tree for hours feeling at home and safe under its branches. I still visit ‘my trees’ in our nearby park, leaning in and listening to their wisdom. 

When I come home, I write those words down as a way to guide my day. Sometimes the words are a call to action. Other times, they are words of support and encouragement to keep me going. Right now, I think it’s important for you and me to find ways to stay rooted in truth and integrity. 

Mud.

Even as a child, I knew the power of mud. I’d sit in our yard and dig up the brown earth and hold it in my hands. If I had some water, I’d mix up mud soup. Other times, I’d dig deeper into the dirt where it was cool and firm, squish it between my hands and make mounds of elf houses. 

So it shouldn’t be a surprise that I still play with mud. It wasn’t my first career choice which was a writer in advertising. But my love of art and working with my hands lead me, once again, to mud. Working with clay, learning to throw objects and shape sculptures is my happy place. It just goes to show you, child’s play shows us our way in life. 

Right now, I need something to calm me during this stormy time. Maybe you do too. What did  you do that was ‘child’s play’? What was your happy place? Where did you feel safe?

Maybe it’s time to lean against a tree and ask. 

And find your own calm in the storm. 

  

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. 

Flow

I love the Oregon coast. I haven’t been there in over 4 years. In fact, I haven’t been anywhere, really in two years. I’ve walked my beloved park. Visited local farms and wineries. Gone grocery shopping. But I haven’t really taken a trip or a vacation. 

I know I’m not alone. Covid, the Delta variant have kept us all close to home, worried and fearful. Add a death in the family and I needed to retreat or find a retreat to soothe my soul, breathe in deeper and let out all the surrounding sorrow. 

Waves

Just watching the waves move in and out. Foaming and folding and glistening. I could feel a deep calm rolling over me. The sound of the surf quieted my mind. The push and pull inside me gave itself over to the ocean. 

Gazing at the sun moving downward towards the ocean brought up so many feelings. Hope. Sadness. Love. Fear. Connection. Loneliness. Support. And joy. Yes, as the sun slowly lowered,    I could feel my soul filling up with warmth. 

Play

Taking my sweet doggy to the beach is always fun. But because he was trained from puppyhood to be a guide dog, he was always on a leash. This is his comfort zone. Ok, I’ll admit, mine too. We found a small, inlet beach area with only a few people. And I decided, it was time to take the chance. 

He loved it! He splashed. Barked. Met another dog. He ran back and forth between my husband and I playing monkey in the middle. He got lots of treats each time he ran to us. I was so excited to see him sniff the waves and run. Joyously playing. 

Mud

Art making is my therapy. I need to put my hands in clay to clean the mud off my heart and soul. This last week, I made a decision. Even though my kitchen is still a mess, I needed to make a mess with clay to feel better. 

So I threw. Even if these bowls don’t turn out, it doesn’t matter. Even if they sit on my studio shelf and dry and crack and never get glazed, it’s ok. Because just the act of wedging, throwing, pulling and shaping the clay is an act of hope. An act of balancing then with now. Centering me. And allowing the future to flow.