Blooming.

I look out my window and the whole world seems to be blooming. Bright red flowers cover my Camilla. Small pink blossoms scatter around the plum tree. Here and there daffodils I planted long ago add a pop of bright yellow. 

Inside, I’m working in my studio and recovering from health issues. I work a little slower but even so, new things are popping up. Like this silly, google-eyed bird. Where did he come from? I don’t know. Where will he go? Again, I don’t know. 

Experimenting. 

I used to have a schedule: throwing on Tuesday, handbuilding on Wednesday but that’s not happening now. I notice that I’m less interested in throwing functional pieces and more interested in handbuilding and sculptural pieces. 

Not sure why this is happening and that’s ok. I started out doing sculpture and learned to throw when I was gifted with a wheel. In the last 10 years, throwing has been the focus. But now, the focus has slowly shifted again. I have to say, I’m having fun with these quirky little figures that are popping up. 

Recovering. 

I’ve had health issues this year that I’ve never had before. I’ll admit, it’s been scary. Seeing different doctors every time is weird, too. But this week, I had my first virtual doctor visit and I have to say it was wonderful. The doctor truly listened to my concerns and offered support and solutions. I’m grateful. 

I see flowers blooming all around me

And it gives me hope

My body recovered and strong

New work crazy and colorful 

Everything moving and growing.  

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.