To do or not to do

 

This is the question going through my mind lately. With life changes and health issues, I’ve had a lot to absorb and process these days. One of the main things I’m thinking about is my art and how it’s changed over the years. My first gallery show was in 2000, where I showed masks sculpted out of window screening. Yup, the kind of screening you buy at the home improvement store. 

From there, I made and showed screening or clay masks in boxes that contained a copper repose landscape and a story that tied all the pieces together. Some were free standing and some hung on the wall. 

A gift that changed my art and life.

During an open studio years ago, a very sweet couple came to see my art. They had bought one of my copper masks and spotted some of my clay sculptures. Wondering why they hadn’t seen these in the gallery, I told them I only had a few because without a kiln, I was only able to get the pieces fired by a kind art teacher. They then offered me their kiln and insisted I take the wheel they had, too. 

That led to a few years of clay classes where I learned to throw and glaze. And after that, throwing became my biggest focus. I threw and showed and sold mostly functional pieces: mugs, bowls and vases. A few sculptural pieces snuck in but not a lot.  

Now what?

That’s the question I’ve been asking myself a lot these days. With all the life and health changes throwing just doesn’t feel the same. I still love clay, so I did what I could physically do, making some lily vases, leaves and small sculptures. 

When my small sculptures sold well last year, I saw it as a sign to make more. I did. I made a lot more. But what I found out is that making more doesn’t mean selling more. Even though I did sell almost all of my birds(made in 2020) and polar bears(made in 2023), I had a hard time making more. It just didn’t feel the same to ‘remake’ my work as it did to make a new idea in clay. I know this may sound weird, but I struggled with copying myself. 

Perhaps, production work just doesn’t work for me. My art has certainly evolved over the years, I worried about that, too. I think that’s why I wanted to produce more to prove I could and to sell more. 

To do or not to do, what do I do? 

To force myself into the studio to copy myself isn’t working. 

Maybe that’s the problem: production instead of creating.

Making more didn’t lead to more sales.  

Maybe, just maybe less is more. 

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. 

 

Life is good. Again.

A whole year. I can’t believe it but it’s true. It’s taken a whole year to get my home back. Water damaged the kitchen, utility, dining and living areas of my home. Insurance negotiations and construction took over 10 months and included moving out into a hotel for 2 months. Then we waited for all the little details, like thresholds, painting repairs, plumbing and electrical plugs to be finally finished. It might all be done today!

I’m so glad to be back in my home. But most importantly, I’m glad to be back in my studio. 

New old studio. 

My studio space in my home has evolved over the decades. It started as den/computer room where my art area was a drafting table in the corner. Then little by little, my art took over the whole room. This weekend, it evolved again. 

From the rubble of the kitchen area, a new desk and cupboard was salvaged and installed in my studio. Two used formica slabs found in a dumpster 20 years ago were replaced with old kitchen cupboards, countertop and drawers. We found a great cabinet installer online and it all happened in one day!

I have so much storage space and display space. I have a new/old countertop. Yes, it needs paint where the old shelf brackets were, but I don’t care right now. It’s amazing. 

Creating new pieces.

With all the demo and construction, I had to stop throwing, hand building, glazing and firing. It was hard on my body, mind and soul. But I made it through. 

  

After cleaning and clearing the space, I got a full load going for a re-bisque. After I do an initial bisque, I add another layer of color wash. Then it’s put in the kiln again to set that layer of color. Then it’s onto final glazing. And I can’t wait to see it all with bright colors and glossy glaze. 

It’s so good to be in my new, old studio adding color to clay. Again. 

So good to be getting pieces in my kiln and clay my hands. Again. 

After a year, life is good. Again. 

February Love Story #2

As I said last week, I’ve decided to take this month to focus on love. I want to remind myself, again, of everything that makes my heart happy, my soul refreshed and my body healthy. 

Love is more than romantic love, it’s the feeling of connection, creation and dedication. Hopefully, it brings peace and joy. But it can also be challenging and sometimes it takes a brave heart and spirit.   

This week’s love story is about art. 

I wasn’t alway interested in art. Truth be told, once upon a time, I was a bookish nerd.  I loved to read and one of my favorite places to go was the library. All those books! Those wonderful little drawers in the card catalog. Flipping through them to research a paper to me, was fun. 

But what I realize now is those books, those words came alive in my mind. I didn’t just read a story, I saw it. The people. The clothes, food, trees, flowers in their world. Their homes and towns and, yes, attics. 

Some of my very first art pieces were wooden boxes with a clay character, mask and, yes, a story. Then came paintings with landscapes and characters which I now realize are called ‘narrative’ paintings. 

For the love of mud. 

Another favorite childhood pastime: playing in the mud. Now, I get to throw it, roll it, cut it out and paint it. Not everything I throw or roll or paint turns out well. Things explode. Crack. Or get trimmed way too much, like last week’s bowl. 

But I refuse to let failure stop me, so this week, I threw a few more bowls. 

Sculpted some new ‘fairies’.  Rolled out a raven or two. 

Clay and words and colors, oh my. 

Some loves never die. 

I am still a big reader. And along the way, I added writing with a career in advertising. So I guess it’s not surprising that my clay always seems to need words along with symbols like hearts and spirals and leaves. 

Even if it doesn’t always turn out perfect. Or get in a show. Or sell. That book-loving little girl, who liked to get her hands in mud, is still happily doing what she loves. 

Everyday. 

Anyway. 

 

Right Now

Sweet summer breezes flow through my window calming my mind and body. Being in the moment, any moment, even this small moment with total attention is my ongoing challenge. 

Today, I look up at the cerulean sky and cotton ball clouds. And take a good deep breath. That’s all. Just that. 

Because right now, with what’s happening inside my home and outside in the world, this is what I need to do. Maybe this is all I can do. Maybe this is all any of us can do. 

Breathe. 

Yes, covid cases are rising. Again. It’s scary. It’s maddening. And I really can’t do a thing about it. Yes, viruses live among us all the time. They mutate to survive.

Taking a deep breath is one thing I can do.  Other things we can all do to survive is get vaccinated, use good hygiene and practice social distancing. 

I’m grateful to be fully vaccinated. I’m relieved my husband and children are also vaccinated. We can see each other safely. And I can see my vaccinated friends, too. 

Right now.

It’s easier said than done. Right now, my kitchen has no sink, cabinets are missing and my floor is chopped up in sections of subfloor, old vinyl and laminate wood plank. This is due to a  plumbing failure and water damage. 

It’s been scary. I’ve had many sleepless nights. Yet, I’ve found help from family, friends and neighbors. The support and understanding flowing my way from their hearts is calming mine. Their stories, advice and helpful information gives me the strength and courage I need. 

Right here. 

Several people have said to me this week, “One thing at a time.” This is how I can focus. Cleaning up the dust from the demo in my kitchen. Washing my dishes by hand. Making blackberry syrup for pancakes. Weeding my garden. 

In the studio, I can do small things. Right here, I can glue magnets on my diversity rainbow hearts. I can take new product pictures. 

I can update my Etsy shop. 

I can get ready for an upcoming outdoor show.

Here on the window seat, I can rest for a bit. 

Breathe in the cool breeze and savor the sunshine.

Right now. 

Right here. 

Merry Making Again

What do I love most, other than my husband and family, of course? I love making. There is just nothing like putting my mind and heart and hands to work creating something new. And I know, I’m very lucky to find and do work that allows me to use a wide range of skills. 

For the last few months, I’ve worked finishing work, glazing, firing, sanding and cleaning. I’ve worked hard rebuilding my online platforms, editing copy, taking pictures, adding hashtags. Then there was marketing on social media, which can be overwhelming to me. Even as I love seeing, reading and even creating posts for others, doing it for myself is hard work. 

Taking a studio retreat. 

This week, I went back to work in the studio. I opened a new bag of clay and rolled out huge slabs. I wedged and slapped and rolled some more. I cut out new shapes. Stamped new words and hearts and spirals and suns. 

I even made a tile for my grandson, Cieran. When he comes over this week, I’ll help him put his little handprints into the soft clay to make a belated Mother’s Day present for his mom. Like the one I did with his cousin, Meyer, for my son.

Grateful. I’m so grateful. 

All of my loved ones are vaccinated. All of us are well. All of us are stepping our way back out into this covid world. I’d say “post-covid” but we all know, covid is always going to be part of our world now.

I’ve worked very hard to be strong and fight it but it’s time for acceptance. To feel the tears and maybe even, the fears we’ve held back to be strong for others. I’ve felt it all flowing through me this week. I’ve noticed my shoulders lowering and my jaw loosening. 

And I’m so grateful for the love and support of my family, friends and my art customers, in person and virtual on Etsy or Ceramics Showcase. 

Making always makes me better. 

I’ll admit, I felt a little off my studio game at first. And I was surprised when I realized it’s been a few months since I’ve put my hands in new clay. So much of this year is a blur, isn’t it?

So I’ll ask a question: what can you make to make you feel better? 

Because it’s time for us all, to begin again. 

Breaking Through

 

Ice and snow covered my world for the last week. There’s nothing I love more than snow. But walking around the snowy park and frozen lake near my home, I didn’t really see it in the same way this time. 

Instead, I was afraid of yet another disaster to add to mounting COVID list. And many, many people were without light and heat. Working from home doesn’t work without internet. Do virtual schools give kids a snow day?

Creative ice. 

I’ve pushed myself through this whole year to create as much as possible not just to keep my work out there, but to keep myself going. If you read my last blog, you’ll know I finally hit the wall. Making turned into a slog instead of a joy. Creative ideas seemed to stop flowing and pushing myself just made it worse. 

I spent a few days watching the ice coat my trees and the snow fall. It was too cold in my garage to throw or trim on my wheel, so I found myself in my studio puttering around. I wrote in my journal, moved a few pieces around and rummaged through my closet. 

Next thing I knew I’d rearranged my studio. Again.

I took everything off my two big black work carts and flipped them from left to right. I pushed one cart shelf up five inches to create a taller space. I rearranged the lower shelves with bisque molds all on one side and clay on the other. I got rid of dirty old plastic that I’ve been using for the last 10 years which I’m sure isn’t healthy. I cleaned, dusted and mopped. 

Drip by drip. 

Next thing I knew, it was thawing outside my window. The sheets of ice were breaking up. The snow had melted on the sidewalk. 

Inside, I’d created a new area dedicated to photography. In the past, anytime I needed photos of my work, I’d go to a professional. When he retired, I had to go it alone. At first that involved carting a stand, tabletop, lights, tripod and cameras out to my garage. I moved inside, but still every time I needed photos, I had to rearrange my entire studio. 

Now, I’ve got a photo area all set up and ready to go. All I have to do is put my piece on the shelf, my phone/camera in the tripod and shoot! Here are some of my first experiments with my new set up. 

Melting happens. 

After all the cleaning, I spent the next day throwing. When I went to put the bowls in the studio to dry, I saw a total of seven new bowls drying on the shelves. 

What happened to my COVID wall? Last time I looked my shelves were empty and inside I felt frozen. But somehow, in spite of all the snow and ice, moving and mopping, something inside of me melted. 

The cold inside me started to thaw and slowly, drip by drip, my creative spirit broke through.  

And some of the beauty that fell outside, had somehow fallen softly on my soul. 

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.”