Lessons Learned

 I’ve done a lot of different kinds of art over the years. Painting in watercolor, acrylics, oil and pastel. Fiber art including beaded embroidery, quilting and crochet. Clay sculpture. Copper repousse. Mixed media boxes that included clay, copper repousse and a story I wrote. 

In the last 10 years, I’ve been making functional clay cups, bowls, plates and vases. But sculpture snuck in, too. 

I’m either very versatile or I have a very short attention span. I’m not sure. One thing I do know: I like to try new things. Oh, I may argue with myself or someone else about that because learning does take time and can be very frustrating. Somehow, I do it anyway. 

Maybe the truth is simple: I like to learn. 

I failed at clay in high school so when someone tried to give me a wheel, I said no. They insisted and loaded up a truck with a wheel and a kiln. It was such an amazing gift, I could not turn down  that kind of generosity. Even as it scared me. But, maybe, it was a sign?

At the time, my husband was between jobs and we had college age children at home. My focus was on survival and making money. At the time, I was teaching after school art classes across town. I was never sure how many would sign up but that fall, exactly enough children signed up to pay for one term of clay classes at my local recreation center. So I took the fall class. My husband got a new job and I was able to continue taking the clay classes in handbuilding and throwing. Yes, I finally learned to throw. 

But the biggest lesson I learned, was that I was left handed. As a child, I’d been told to say I was ambidextrous but now I know that was old school speak for left handed. The truth is, I can use both hands but not for all things. Somethings my right hand likes and somethings my left hand likes. I’m still learning their preferences. 

See there’s always more to learn.

The question for me right now? What to learn next? Right now, I’m learning to crochet Christmas Stockings from a pattern. I’ve been doing crochet for years, but I never used patterns much, I usually make up my own. But these are not just for me but for a local women and children center, so I want them to be right. Right? 

I’m also trying to learn how to combine sculptural clay elements on a base with a watercolor technique using underglazes. Will it work? I don’t know. Will I be able to show or sell them? I don’t know. 

But not knowing is what learning is all about. And maybe that’s the most important lesson of all.

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.  

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. 

Empty to Full

 

It always surprises me. My studio shelves were empty a month or so ago and now I have no more room for new pieces. Really, where did all these pieces come from? Is there an elf who sneaks in at night? I’m joking, of course. 

I work in my studio and throw on the wheel. But I don’t produce hundreds of pieces a week or month or even a year. Especially after this year, with the demolition and reconstruction of my home, I had months with no production at all. And after all that time away, I wondered if what I made or didn’t really mattered at all. 

It felt overwhelming. And it took a while to get my clay feet back and my hands moving.  

One chunk of clay at a time.

That’s how it happened. One day at a time, putting my hands in a new chunk of clay and wondering. What could it be? A leaf? A bowl? A penguin? A witch? A vase?

There’s a part of me that always sees more in the world around me than is really there. To me, a tree might look like a person waving in the wind. A big leaf from a tree in the park might look like a lovely serving platter. A toilet paper tube might look like a jar or a vase. 

And throwing is just my way to meditate. That is if I don’t listen to those negative voices that try to force the clay into something it shouldn’t be: taller or wider or bigger or better. 

A love of mud. 

That’s what drew me back, really. The feel. The wonder. The questions and possibilities. Most of all, letting all of that go. Stepping into the realm of here and now.  

One day at a time. 

One chunk of clay at a time.

One bowl or bird or leaf at a time. 

And my shelves went from empty to full.

And so did my soul. 

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. 

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. 

 

Searching for the light in the moment

Today, the sun is shining over my shoulder. I’m warm underneath my homemade crochet infinity scarf. I’m sipping fresh, hot coffee. 

Right here, right now, I’m ok.

It’s been a crazy, tough, scary three years, hasn’t it? And I’m here to admit, this new year has been much of the same. New covid variant. New mask protocols. New isolation guidelines. Things are changing on a daily basis. Shopping is still difficult with supply chain issues. Vaccinations were supposed to make everything good again, but even with boosters on top of shots, we’re still being told that’s not enough. 

I don’t know about you, but I’ve had more than enough. So why? Oh why did I pick my word of the year to be: shine?

Clay therapy. 

I did get a new supply of my favorite clay, English Grolleg porcelain. And this week, I finally got to sit down at my wheel, next to my space heater and throw. What a relief it is. And how easily I forget that no matter how small or large a piece I throw, I come away calmer, happier and, yes, more centered. 

I’ve written many times about how the process of throwing is very zen for me. It requires my precise attention, yet at the same time, the ability to let go and flow. I turn on my Bluetooth speaker, space heater, put out the bed for my ‘Lab’ assistant and throw. 

The biggest step: set no goals. No expectations. No pushing. No production quotas. All I did was measure out chunks of clay for a couple of pieces. In what seemed like no time at all, I had 2 new bowls. 

I felt calm. And refreshed. Even though I was covered in mud. 

Firing up the kiln.

This week, I fired my first kiln load of the year, too. It was just a bisque load but with clay you never know what might happen. Some of the pieces still had their natural leaves attached which needed to burn off safely. And the clay I’d used was older and drier which makes it more vulnerable to cracking during firing. 

Luckily all went well. Leaves burned off nicely and no cracking. I’m looking forward to painting new colors on the leaves and glazing the big

Did I shine this week?

Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve had family with omicron. Supply stresses. Still no sink or floor in my kitchen. Professional dilemmas and doubts. Do I do a large indoor show? Will it get shut down? Will it be safe? Will people come? Is it worth the risk?

I sigh and breath in:

The feel of new clay in my hands and new pieces from the kiln. 

My ‘Lab’ Assistant snoring peacefully. 

Today’s sun on my head. 

Maybe this year’s word, shine, means searching for the light, however small, in each moment. 

So right now, I’m going to take in that softness, color, sweetness and light. 

 

 

Grateful

 

I am grateful. Yes, in spite of all the terrible, difficult, confusing, maddening, and scary things this year has thrown in my path, I am humbly grateful.

I am grateful for my breath, my hands, my body (yes, even as it grows older). My arms are strong enough to lift my grandkids. My back bends, slowly. I make sure to use my abs. My legs love to stretch and walk and climb with me every day around the park and back. And my hands still love to throw, shape, trim and paint clay. 

Home and heart. 

Again, I’m grateful for my home, warmth and food. Especially this year with all the problems finding TP, cleaning supplies, flour and even yeast, it’s been scary. Just when I stopped ‘backing up’ my pantry so many things got hard to find. But one day at a time, I’ve gathered and stored. And I’m grateful my pantry is ‘backed up’ once again. 

While many other hearts filled with anger and violence and fear gnawed at my soul, my arms opened to welcome my children and grandchildren home. After many years apart, my daughter, son-in-law and baby grandson came home. Now I get to take care of two sweet, wonderful new humans. My granddaughter, Meyer is at that magical age of 5 and my grandson is moving from baby to toddler learning and growing with amazing speed and sweetness. 

Art and soul. 

Through all these difficult months, art has been my island of peace, safety and joy. Throwing teacups. Trimming delicate feet. Stamping bowls with messages to ‘act brave and kind’. Creating my own new way to make birds with heart shaped wings and encouraging words. 

All of this work lifted me up when my heart started to sink. It gave my body a way to work through my feelings. And my mind something else to focus on and move onward. And I am always and ever grateful for the opportunity to do the work I do.

Inside and out.  

Quarantines. Walks in the park. Gallery sitting with a mask and no visitors. Shopping with social distancing. It feels more than a little surreal. It’s difficult. Frustrating. And sad. 

But inside, my home is still my home. Today, my daughter and I cooked and watched a movie.  My husband and my doggy Darby are now snuggled by the fire. Upstairs, my daughter and son-in-law are gently singing my grandson good night. And tomorrow, my son and granddaughter will be here to eat turkey dinner and

Every day. Every breath. Yes, even for every roll of TP.  

I am grateful. 

Again and again and again. 

What are you grateful for today?