Pottery. A fancy word for sticky dirt. My newest source of immense challenge and growth. A pottery exploration course at community college is turning out to be the most expensive investment I've made in therapy, and quite possibly the most effective.
And the jury's still out with the official overall opinion, because each experience in the studio has been completely different than the one before and the next to come.
From the first step into the studio, I've been painfully reminded of the 6 year old not-an-artist who still lives, quite wounded, within me. Mrs. Simunek rolled in the television, strapped to it's gigantic cart, and clicked (meaning: manually turned, as in twisted with her hand) the channel knob to 5, PBS. We had our supplies all lined up, at the ready, at our individual desks. I can still smell them The red second hand rolled slowly around the clocks face until *click* it was time for Art Class. In 1973, our art teacher wore a smock and a huge floppy "artist" hat, and spoke to us through the television once a week. I'm sure she was bright and flamboyant, as artists I've come to know since, though she came to us in the monochromatic glory of the day.
And the jury's still out with the official overall opinion, because each experience in the studio has been completely different than the one before and the next to come.
From the first step into the studio, I've been painfully reminded of the 6 year old not-an-artist who still lives, quite wounded, within me. Mrs. Simunek rolled in the television, strapped to it's gigantic cart, and clicked (meaning: manually turned, as in twisted with her hand) the channel knob to 5, PBS. We had our supplies all lined up, at the ready, at our individual desks. I can still smell them The red second hand rolled slowly around the clocks face until *click* it was time for Art Class. In 1973, our art teacher wore a smock and a huge floppy "artist" hat, and spoke to us through the television once a week. I'm sure she was bright and flamboyant, as artists I've come to know since, though she came to us in the monochromatic glory of the day.
I was really good at school, Art was just one more thing I'd find easy, I just knew it. I listened well, I followed along, and whoops! I didn't want that line there! Just as I picked up my eraser, the hatted tv lady said, "there's no erasing in art!" and I couldn't stop her and tell her how I really had to erase this one line, so I could be good. She just kept on keeping on and my picture was awful. It wasn't art and it wasn't easy. So I was done. Just like that, I wasn't an artist. Not my thing. No thanks.
This little kid's had lots of years to stew about Art. She's a force to be reckoned with and, frankly, I'm ready. She needs to grow up and let me be good at this. She's most definitely coloring my experience with her process of letting go of then and allowing a new now.
I managed to successfully create a couple of mostly-round bowls. Then I broke one. In between I threw and collapsed more containers than I want to count. Once, I even left the studio in tears with nothing accomplished. Okay twice, in tears; more often without success.
I invited my friend Stefan to come mentor me, which really helped. Helped me realize perfection on the wheel might be a touch beyond my reach, at this exact moment. His trips to the wheel, along with the incredible potters in this studio, are immediate gratification for him. He sits down and vooooop! he's got a vessel! And there's the added bonus of his company alleviating my frustrations with well-placed jokes and encouragement.
With his inspiration, I did have a total of three bowls survive to their first firing. One is still lost among the stacks of once-fired bowls. Once I found two, I spent some time in the glazing room, watching folks dip and dunk and dab. I sidled up to the least intimidating of the gang, and asked advice on my very first glazing project. Sure enough, I suddenly had all kinds of advice pouring in! I didn't follow much of it, choosing my own crazy (mostly purples!) color combinations & generously applying Hannah ashes to the drying glazes.
Last night, I had my most productive night of all. I decided, before going to class, that my focus was going to be success. However that looks, whatever comes of it, I wanted to taste, feel, enjoy and celebrate success!
I bought fresh clay, wedged several chunks with Hannah's ashes, and got my passionate, productive Self to work! Future "Be the Answer" magnets, counter art trays and bowls -- I even used cord to decorate one!
I managed to successfully create a couple of mostly-round bowls. Then I broke one. In between I threw and collapsed more containers than I want to count. Once, I even left the studio in tears with nothing accomplished. Okay twice, in tears; more often without success.
With his inspiration, I did have a total of three bowls survive to their first firing. One is still lost among the stacks of once-fired bowls. Once I found two, I spent some time in the glazing room, watching folks dip and dunk and dab. I sidled up to the least intimidating of the gang, and asked advice on my very first glazing project. Sure enough, I suddenly had all kinds of advice pouring in! I didn't follow much of it, choosing my own crazy (mostly purples!) color combinations & generously applying Hannah ashes to the drying glazes.
Last night, I had my most productive night of all. I decided, before going to class, that my focus was going to be success. However that looks, whatever comes of it, I wanted to taste, feel, enjoy and celebrate success!
I bought fresh clay, wedged several chunks with Hannah's ashes, and got my passionate, productive Self to work! Future "Be the Answer" magnets, counter art trays and bowls -- I even used cord to decorate one!
I saw my painted bowls go into the kiln tonight... I'll get to see the actual Hannah Ash Effect & bring home my very first masterpieces by Friday. Me and my first-grade Artist are both incredibly excited!
“I am still learning.”
“Genius is eternal patience.”
~Michelangelo
