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. 

 

Summertime Joys

 

I have fond memories of childhood summers reading the afternoon away in the shade. Games of tag on the lawn after dinner. Spending the entire day at the neighborhood swimming pool.

Even when it gets too hot to be outside too long, I love the sun shining in. Flowers blooming. Garden growing. Little ones splashing away including the biggest baby of them all, my black lab, Darby. 

Snapshots of summer. 

Salad growing in the garden. Pick some leaves, add meat or fish or cheese and feast. 

Lavender in full bloom. Fresh mixed with roses or dried in your closet, it’s such a lovely scent. And did you know, lavender also keeps moths away from your clothes. 

Patio pots and baskets adding more color for you and food for hummingbirds and bees. 

Sprinkles and splashing and water fun. At home, in the pool or sprinklers or away in one of many city parks. 

Beautiful sunsets. My favorite time of day, watching that sun slowly sink behind the trees in all its yellow, orange and red glory. 

Summer of love. 

Unlike the last, this is a summer to love. My home is whole. My family is healthy. And even though on some days, it’s too hot to fire up the kiln and my bisque pieces have to wait, I can still create. 

Taking better photos of my pieces. And putting them on Etsy. 

Reorganizing my new studio desk space. Designing new business cards. 

Taking the time everyday 

Seeing the purples, pinks and bright greens.

Smelling the roses and lavenders.

Picking fresh blueberries, tomatoes and lettuce.

Filling up on the true joys of summer.

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. 

Recovering

It’s been a crazy, difficult, wonderful and unbelievable year. On so many levels, change has happened whether I want it to or not. I’ve done my best to find my way in, around and through it all while still finding ways to create anyway. 

But sometimes, I’m forced to stop. My body had been showing me I needed rest, but I ignored it. There was just so much to do: hundreds of boxes to unpack, new rooms to redecorate and reorganize, cleaning, weeding, trimming and planting. Oh my. 

Too much stress leads to mess. 

Yup, my body was a mess. I have a chronic condition that is stress related and most of the time now, I can keep it under control. I had a harder time when my children were little understanding it and working with it but I’ve learned a lot over the years. 

I know when it’s usually going to crop up. I’m prepared with tools to help. But the biggest help is seeing it, accepting it and letting it run its course. Then it goes away in a week or two and all is well. This time around, I ignored all the signs. I pushed myself harder which created more stress and by the time I decided to listen, my usual tools weren’t enough. Finally, I went to the doctor. After suffering for months, I got a prescription and better tools which helped in a matter of days. 

Creative recovery. 

I don’t like to sit around but the window seat in the front room has a beautiful view. I can see the sky and clouds move, trees far and near, little hints of distant hills. So for a week or so, I sat. Watched the clouds move. Enjoyed the colors of the sky and distant trees. And listened to the crows talking. 

I planted flowers on my patio. Hung colored baskets of petunias. And even planted my garden which I’d thought would not get done in time, this year. I hung some art on the walls of my recovered home. In between it all, I did manage to get a few days in the studio. 

And finally, I had a weekend that felt normal, comfortable and, maybe, safe again. 

I can see faces in the clouds and trees and leaves again. 

And I look around and breathe and see, I’m home again.  

“Make some art today. And feel better.”

 

I found that quote on Pinterest last week and I took it as my marching orders: get back in the studio. Now, don’t misunderstand, I love working in clay and I love my studio. 

But for the last 11 months, my energy has been sidetracked into the reconstruction of my home. Building or rebuilding a home takes creativity, of course. Color choices, counter and floor surface decisions and cabinet designs to name a few. But alongside the design ideas are many days, weeks and months of waiting for the supplies and contractors to get the work done.

During all this, I lost access to my studio, kiln and wheel. In fact, my wheel and kiln area are still blocked. But my studio, where I do slab building and underglazing is unpacked and open. 

New clay. Hurrah!

I love clay. I, especially love new, fresh clay. Last week, I went out and bought 50 pounds of new clay, blue underglaze and clear glaze. Wow, that felt good. But what felt the best was cutting off a big square of porcelain clay back in my studio. 

As I wedged it and rolled it, I wondered how I could go 4 months without putting my hands in clay. It really is wonderful. Soft. Squishy. Smooth. 

There was a moment of fear as I got out my tools and forms. I worried I’d screw it up. Forget some important detail. I’ve been away from clay for so long, I felt blocked and scared. But, as I put my hands on the clay, I began to relax and remember. I got out my favorite lace and rolled it over the surface. Then, carefully formed it into one of my favorite things to make: a lily vase. 

Before I knew it, I’d made 2 new lily vases. 

Restored and relieved. 

There is nothing better than making something out of mud. Standing next to my table rolling out clay. Cutting it. Forming it. Feeling its edges and softening them. Pushing charms and hardware into the soft, strong surface. 

After all the fear and sadness and chaos of the last year, I found my way back to myself. Making some art out of clay today, did indeed, make me feel better. 

Anger vanished. 

Fear floated away. 

All that was with me was, me.

And clay. Hurrah!

Moving Back In

If you’ve been reading here, you’ll have heard the back story. If not, I’ll simplify it here: water damage in July led to mold, demolition, moving out, reconstruction, moving back in. 

This all sounds like a nice, straight line, right? Wrong. It’s been a long, twisting tromp through the woods of insurance adjusters, agents, construction estimators, reconstruction teams, moving teams, hotel rooms and hundreds of boxes to unpack. 

But we’re here. Now. Finally. And it only took 11 months. 

Boxed Up. 

I’ve always moved myself. I’ve packed, labeled, moved and unpacked the boxes. So having a moving company come in and do it seems like heaven, right? Kinda. 

The movers arrived and unloaded the truck starting with the big pieces: couch, tables, chairs, art work. Then came the boxes, oh my.  I did try to get the boxes in the right rooms, but with an open floor plan and over 160 boxes, stacking was the best option. 

We couldn’t see out the nook windows, but we did have space to eat. And I was able to find the coffee maker and toaster almost right away. 

Unboxing days. 

It took 10 days. Slicing open boxes marked: kitchen, dining room or living room to find paper, bubble wrapped things. Sometimes one box had one thing. Sometimes many, many small things. From paper towels and paper clips to china and crystal, we found it all.  Somethings I’d thought I’d lost and some things, I wanted to lose. 

I unpacked and washed and re-organized. With new cabinets, things didn’t fit exactly as they had before which was a good thing. It made me choose: things I wanted and use vs things I’d just had. I didn’t expect unpacking boxes would be a roller coaster ride through my past. Bringing grief and tears as well as happiness and smiles.

Living in my new/old home. 

Because of the water damage, many things needed to be reconstructed. I walked through the process of picking new cabinets, countertops, tile, flooring with many mixed feelings. My husband and I built this house 29 years ago. I carefully chose all the finishes: floors, countertops, tile and paint. Now I had to do it all over again. 

Many people were excited for me to have, they said, “A new kitchen.” But you see, I didn’t want a new kitchen because I loved what I’d chosen all those years ago. I had to face that it was gone and I had to move on. I made my new choices with crossed fingers. And after choosing tile for the kitchen island and moving out of our home, I realized it wouldn’t work. I decided on a quartz top for the island. Not everyone agreed, but now, it’s obvious it was the right choice. 

At home at last. 

This morning, I walked down the stairs, turned the corner and for the first time, I wasn’t shocked. It all felt right. I knew where everything was: coffee maker, plates, cups, silverware. And I had everything Michael needed to make his wonderful pancakes, a Sunday favorite. 

It’s been 16 days now. 

All the boxes are unpacked.

We’ve moved everything back in. 

But most important, our house is, now home. 

Finally.  

May Day

 

Today is May Day, an ancient celebration that marks the start of summer. Celebrated in many cultures around the world in many different ways. Dancing around a maypole. Gathering wild flowers to make crowns and garlands. Setting up bonfires. 

My cultural heritage the celebration was called Beltane. The Celtic traditions included lighting bonfires or candles. And making offerings to the aos si, or fairies to stay in their good favor. 

How do I make my own May Day?

With my home still under construction, I’m having a hard time celebrating this year. There is dust covering every surface downstairs. I made my best effort to clean the upstairs and get ready to move back in last week but, sadly, that didn’t happen. 

Floors are still not complete. Moldings not finished. Plumbing is not connected to our sink, dishwasher or refrigerator. In fact, our refrigerator is still in the garage. Our furniture, pillows, pictures, chairs, dining table, dishes, glasses, cookware and laundry are still packed away in a secure storage facility. Somewhere. 

So it’s a little hard to celebrate Beltane right now. 

May Day…May Day. 

I’ve always been proud to be independent, self-sufficient and strong. I hate to ask anyone, family, friend or neighbor for help. I don’t want to impose. But it’s become clear to me that I can’t do all of this myself. 

Many, many people had to be called in to clear out, repair, install and reconstruct my home. I’ve seen so many skilled hands at work: crafting cabinets, setting countertops, putting in tile, installing the oven, cooktop, microwave and sink. I’m very grateful for all the craftsmanship that went into re-making my home. 

Seeing the light. 

So today, I’m going to celebrate Beltane anyway. 

I’m going to gather some flowers and put them in vases. 

I’m going to light a candle or two.  

I’m going to make offerings in honor of all the helpers:

Friends, family, craftsmen and even, a fairy or two.