Taking a deep breath.

 

I realize I’ve been holding my breath for months now. Waiting and waiting and waiting for all of ‘this’ to be over. I know I’m not alone, although it feels like it. I can feel the collective intake every time that ‘someone’ makes a statement which none of us want to hear. It’s like some bad movie which is so bad, it fails at the box office. 

Oh, wait a minute, didn’t ‘hers’ already do that?

Anyway.  Let’s all take a slow breath in and then slowly out.

Breathe.  

No Kings day showed how many of us are on the same page. Over eight million of us. I don’t know about you, but that helps me breathe a little better. 

But what really saves me every day is art. Even though it’s not all fun and games, the process keeps me focused. This week was the stage of working with mud that scares me the most. Why? Because at this stage, there’s no going back. It either works or it doesn’t.

To dip or not to dip. 

When I do functional pieces like cups, bowls, vases, I dip them in a large bucket of mixed glaze. Wipe off the bottoms and let them dry. Then load them in the kiln. 

But this technique doesn’t work well with sculptural or relief pieces. There are lots of edges and crevices and details to glaze around. I thought about painting on layers of glaze, but then again, too much here or there and the piece is ruined. I decided the only way was pouring the glaze over the pieces while spinning them on a small wheel. Then doing touch up. 

Firing with fingers crossed. 

After 2 days of drying time, I loaded each piece carefully into the kiln. Set the cone in the bracket. Propped the lid. Plugged the holes and pushed the switch. And set the timer. While other clay people have kilns with digital timers, I set the timer on my phone.

Once the kiln is on, I’m watching the clock and ready to turn it up every 2 hours. I turn the switch. Lo. Medium. High. And then I wait for it to click off. Even then, I’m still waiting for the kiln to cool off completely before I can open it. All the while I’m sitting there thinking: will the pieces crack? Will the glaze work evenly? Will all my work result in beauty or failure?

It’s completely cool now, outside and inside temperatures match. 

It’s time. 

Holding my breath, I open it up. A big sigh. Luckily all went well. 

My new idea to do relief pieces worked! 

Now, I take a big breath in and a sigh of relief!

2026 Word of the Year: Relief

I’ll be the first to admit, this new word of the year seems odd. Especially considering the times we are living in right now. Or rather the time we are enduring right now. 

It’s chaotic. 

It’s awful. 

It’s scary. 

It’s the exact opposite of relief. 

The opposite of the word relief is: distress, extreme anxiety, sorrow, or pain.

Yeah. I know I feel it. We all do. 

So why in the world did the universe send me the word: relief?

I do not know. All I know is it’s there blinking at me: Relief. Relief. Relief. 

Now it’s up to me to figure it out. My best guess, like maybe all of us, I want and need relief from all of this crazy. But it feels deeper, like a touchstone, a power or maybe a place to land.

Rest and relief. 

The last few years have been filled with doctor visits, antibiotics and pain. What was diagnosed as a bladder issue was, in fact, a colon issue. This required major surgery and, also, major recovery. I’m not good at resting, but I had to do it anyway. 

The challenge was to find ways to create as I recovered. I couldn’t throw on the wheel but I could draw and paint and crochet. So that’s what I did and it helped me heal and thrive. I took a free online drawing/painting session and had fun with crayons and watercolor and ink. When we were showing what we did at the end of class, one person said my painting felt to her like relief.

Real relief. 

On my way through recovery, I found my way back to where I started. Years ago, I made clay, metal and screening masks and showed them in galleries around town. I loved mask making and even taught classes for children and adults in schools and at a local art museum. 

One day in my studio, I realized while I couldn’t throw clay, I could roll it out into a slab. I made a small face and set it aside. More faces appeared and grew into flowers. 

It took me a while to figure it out but I finally got it. I was creating clay reliefs. My need to rest and recover had led me back to what I’ve always loved. Faces and Masks. 

And my new word of the year: Relief. 

My hope is that this year, in this country, we will all recover from this chaos. 

And that would be a real relief. 

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. 

Change

 

Looking out my window I see bursts of bright color: crimson red, golden yellow, purple and brown. The color change is beautiful. The crisp, cool air is refreshing. Fall is here. But I’ll admit, it’s never been my favorite season. 

Maybe it’s the weather going from warm to cold? Maybe it’s the echos of all those ‘back to school’ years? Maybe after all the beautiful colored leaves, the trees become stark skeletons? Maybe what’s really bothering me this Fall isn’t about Fall at all. 

Changing colors. 

I don’t like all the craziness swirling around us in this country. Red states vs Blue States. People being arrested for having an opinion someone else doesn’t like. People  beaten up for the color of their skin. And the women’s rights I fought for decades ago, being degraded and denied. 

These are not changes I want to see. This is not what I voted for. And I suspect we will find out that it’s not what the majority voted for either. Until then, I try to do what I can to help those in need, support what I want and believe in for everyone. 

Creative change.  

One way I can make positive changes in my community is with my hook. I’ve been busy crocheting Christmas Stockings for my neighborhood women and children center. They asked for 40 and I’m on number 31 now. My goal is to get them the stockings before Thanksgiving, or sooner. Finger’s crossed!

This weekend I joined knitters and crocheters in downtown Portland for the first ‘Knit In’. Put together by a group called ‘Common Cause’ it was a way to show our support for the rights of all people here in Portland and beyond. Despite the pouring down rain, the tents were filled with like-minded men and women coming together with yarn-in-hand to support freedom for all. 

Color experiments. 

Another new experience for me this week was taking an online class with artist, Jill Badonsky. It was a fun, interactive experience. I played along with others mixing watercolors and using gel pens to create fun, silly Autumn themed art. 

I used to paint all the time. But that was pushed aside for throwing and handbuilding clay cups, bowls and vases. Lately, I’ve been doing more sculpture and taking a more ‘painterly’ approach with clay. Experimenting with relief and color is a fun and challenging change. 

Change is life

Even if I’m not ready

The seasons change 

And so must I

Time to see the good falling all around me