little friends

Pots often hold a special place in our hearts.  At least, for potters or those who love pottery. It is odd how some inanimate object can evoke such emotion. Each pot is like a special friend, bringing us joy each time we hold, use, or gaze upon it.

The other day, I sadly dropped a piece of pottery that I had made several years ago.  It was a very small pinch pot that was fired in a wood kiln. It was nothing special.  So I thought.  But as it fell to the floor and I gasped in surprise as it slipped through my fingers- my heart stopped. I heard the crack and the tinkle of broken clay as it scattered across the pine kitchen floor. And for a moment a tear came to my eye. Really? Really.  For this nondescript little pot- I shed a tear. But then looking around I realized, I would probably do the same thing for any of my pots. They all have a story. Most have been made by the hands of a friend.  I never realized how much I care for these mugs, bowls, vases, sculptures. They have become a little piece of me....a part of my home.

That is the wonderful things about handmade pots!  Have you ever shed a tear for a broken bowl that was massed produced in China? Knowing that you can get an exact replica makes that piece a little less special.  But knowing that a one-of-a-kind piece just smashed into pieces in front of your eyes may just leave your heart a little broken too.

 

So hold onto your pots a little tighter, hold onto your friends a little closer.  Don't let them fall. 

relationship revelation

Forging new relationships is difficult, both with people and with clay.  And in fact, there are so many similarities between our relationships with people and clay.  In both cases we open ourselves up- mind, body, and soul to learn, experience, and grow with someone or with the clay that is our medium.  We have expectations in both-- that if we share, if we take time to interact, if we invest in ourselves- we will get something in return.  Whether that is a conversation, a moment of shared joy, or a great pot- we expect that our time and effort will be rewarded. 

The forming of a great pot- is like the forming of a relationship.  A pot takes time, nurturing, patience, and some loving care.  So does a relationship.  Perhaps it is true what they say (whoever ‘they’ are)-- you get out of it what you put into it.  The more your hands interact with the clay, the more they experiment, and discover- the more joy you receive.  But on the other hand, time not spent in the studio, time not opening yourself up with a person you care about- will result in frustration, aggravation, and ultimately heart break. 

But sometimes, no matter what you do; no matter how much time you spend, no matter how much you put your heart on the line- sometimes that clay is not going to center.  You can push and pull all you want and that lump of clay just isn’t going to do what you want.  And no matter how much we give of ourselves, sometimes the other person doesn’t give you what you need in return.  In the studio, we can scrape that piece of clay off the bat and put it in the recycle bin and start anew.  But while it might be a little harder to ‘scrape’ that person off your heart and into the recycle bin- it can be and should be done if you are investing too much for too little.  Everything can start anew.  It might be difficult to start a new pot, a new shape, a new glaze.  It might be difficult to let go and start a new friendship, a new relationship.  It is a risk- a risk worth taking in the end.

  

memories from a pot

Memories are evoked in a myriad of ways.  The smell of a campfire in the earlier morning; the sounds of the first spring peepers at dusk; the photographs of time gone by….  Sight, sounds, smells, all bring us back to a past time when we remember where we were, the friends that we shared those times with, and the feelings we experienced.

The other day, I found myself reminiscing….not using photographs or sounds- but pots.  Yes- pots.  I started walking through my house taking note of all those pots that I have acquired over these past seven years and it brought to mind some wonderful times. Take a trip with me these next few entries as I take a trip down memory lane:

My first pot:  Wow- I can't believe I showing this photo!!  It’s my Hershey Kiss candy dish!  It fits just one!  I remember the first day of class, my first touch of the clay beneath my fingers, the smell of the musty clay as it came out of the bag.  But what I remember most are the friendship that I made-  some of the best and fulfilling in my life.  And I am happy to say that many are still in my life today.

My first wood-firing with Susan Beecher:  Here I learned the true meaning of blood, sweat, and tears.  I learned the power of energy and fire, and the wonderful camaraderie that is born out of having a shared goal.  Here, I also learned the power of laughter and music.  In the wee hours of the morning when the fire continues to burn, but your own internal fire is starting to wane- laughter and music can pull you through.  These are some of my most cherished pots, memories, and friends.

My first workshop: Here I listened to what I consider a technical artist- Todd Piker.  An artist that has a strong and fervent philosophy about pottery, process, and craft, he is precise and measured, yet his pots have movement and life. The trip to Vermont with my mother was a wonderful weekend.  I was so nervous taking a workshop as I really didn’t have a clue.  But this experience was one that will never be forgotten.  And I now realize that you must absorb yourself in pots and the work of others to truly learn about craft and technique. 

Stay tuned for more pots and more memories….

a potter's courage

Art takes courage.  Art, in the form of putting brush to canvas or pen to paper- puts the artist's thoughts, feelings and, in a way their soul, in a visual format for all to see- exposing oneself to the world.  I think the same thing is true with putting hands to clay.  With painting, drawing, and even writing there is an intermediary between the artist and the artwork.  There is a brush between hand and canvas; there is a pen (or keyboard) between the mind, fingers, and the page....but with clay, with tactile clay, it is a direct interaction.  Our hands are in direct contact with our medium.  Our mind, body and spirit come forth through our fingertips into the clay itself.  When we are happy, sad, depressed, frustrated…our pots are imbibed with our emotions.  It may not be as apparent as with a painting on the wall but…it is there.  Our emotions, as potters, get wrapped up in our work, just as the painter, the writer, and the musician.  It may not be on the surface in some cases, but it is throughout the entire pot.  Is there less emotion in a plain and simple functional pot than the well-adorned decorative piece?  I think not.  It takes just as much courage to sit down at the wheel with hand and water to form both pieces.  

Courage comes in many forms.  We don't all have to run into a burning building to have courage.  We all struggle each day with our own demons- work, relationships, motivation, creativity...I could go on.  And it takes courage to get up each morning and face the trials and tribulations of the day.  It takes courage move beyond our struggles in relationships- to forgive, to embrace, to start a new one, or to simply walk away.  It takes courage to find the motivation to push us toward the wheel, the page, or the piano.  It takes courage to learn new things. It takes courage to throw bigger, taller, thinner.  It takes courage to decorate and embellish.  It takes courage to put creative spirit in art. It takes courage to pull emotion out of the soul and into the clay. 

Whether you are an artist or you simply enjoy art, remember what it took for the maker to produce what you love.  Remember, that each mug you hold has a piece of us in it.  There is a connection between you and the maker- and that is why, I think, potters love to make pots.  To forge new connections not only between the clay but also between the people who use the clay.  And that is not an easy thing to do.  It takes courage to put oneself out there for all to see.  Art and life takes courage.  

Instant Gratification

In this world, we are always looking for instant gratification.  The rise of the instant one cup coffee machines, movies on-demand, text messaging…  What has happened to the gradual percolation of coffee in the morning that steady grows in strength just as we do as we stretch our way to wakefulness?  What has happened to going to the movies or the theatre with a friend and making an event out of entertainment?  What has happened to regular paper mail?!!  The art of writing a letter has long been lost.  We in the pottery world are not immune to the desires of gaining results on the spot.  This fall, my mother and I hosted a pit fire for the Collar City Clay Guild.  It was a beautiful fall day.  The sun was shining, the leaves were turning red and gold, and the hot water heater converted to a fire pit was stoked and ready to go.  We took our pots, added the mishmash of coffee grounds, salt, seaweed, and cherry pits and wrapped them tight in heavy foil to make our pseudo-saggars.  Into the pit they went, ready to be engulfed by orange flame and with a click of the lighter we set our wood on fire.  For an hour we watched over our pots engrossed by the heat and flame and then we let the fire die.  We turned our pots over to the fire gods and wished them luck.  We walked away and let them rest.  In two more hours time, we went back to check on our pots and to our amazement we found oranges, greens, and blues creating depth across our pots.  Talk about instant gratification?!!  When normally we fire a kiln for 18 hours, then let it cool for at least that long before we can open it up to peek inside- I embrace the pit fire when I can touch my creation in a matter of hours.  But there is a cost of that instant enjoyment of quick pit firing….pieces are not functional.  I can’t use them to put my tea in; I can’t put fresh flowers in vases; and can’t eat ice cream out of bowls.  So while we love the relatively instantaneous satisfaction that pit firing or even raku can give us, we must also embrace the slow progression of high firing in order to make the most of our clay.  Finding the balance between the two is the perfect combination…perhaps in both pottery and our lives.  Maybe while we send that text message out, we can also take time to make a phone call to say ‘hello’.  Perhaps, instead of sending an email we can send a hand written thank-you note.  Find the balance.  

Motivation is a Killer

There comes a time in life when everything around you is going round and round in a complete blur.  Work becomes overwhelming, family obligations become time consuming, and other commitments take over all your 'free-time'.  Often, this is when we lose our motivation to the things we love to do. It is very easy to get pre-occupied with so many obligations that we have that we forget to do things for ourselves.  We often lose the motivation that once pushed us to stay creative, stay active, or stay engaged.  The loss of motivation can come in so many different forms-  it can come from being tired at the end of the day (or the beginning of the day in some cases); it can come from the lack of ideas; it can come from the lack of time.  And it seems to be a cyclic pattern.  One feeds off the other. So how do we overcome?  It's a hard question to answer and one that probably cannot be answered here.  But, I think we need to take some time and reflect on all those things in our lives and determine which are the most important and the most fulfilling.  Which things is our lives are going to keep us going?  Which things are going to put a smile on our face?  And which will bring us happiness, peace, and joy?  Then, once we figure that out, we need to say good-bye to those things are a sucking away our time, our energy, and our spirit.  It may be hard to say farewell or re-organize our lives, but in the end it will benefit you and those around you.  I don't know about you, but I tend to be very cranky when I am unhappy, tired, and searching for the spark I need to get up and go!  

Motivation, however, is tough to sustain without help.  It is very easy to fall into the routine of being lazy and unproductive.  But it is okay to ask for help- for a push or a nudge.  Just as you want to help others- others want to help you.  And it is perfectly okay to ask for it!  It is not a sign of weakness.  I know it is hard.  It is hard for me to ask.  I don't want to burden people or put them out.  But I need to remind myself that I never feel burdened or put out when someone asks me for help.  I am usually happy that they feel that they can come to me and trust me.  In my life, I have found that I need to be pushed.  As such, I work with a trainer to keep me active and healthy.  She helps me to focus on the now and the task at hand.  She helps me gain confidence in myself and my abilities which has made me grow in so many ways.  Now all I need is a pottery trainer....one that will push my limits and keep me going.  But in fact, I do have those trainers, though they may not go by that name---I call them teachers, colleagues, friends.  Remember, each of us has a little "trainer" inside that can push each other to reach our potential.  

I have found that once motivation is lost, it is very hard to get back.  As it has been said, "A body in motion stays in motion.  A body at rest stays at rest."  I can't emphasize how true that is.  In my pottery life, in my personal life, and in my athletic life....once you stop pushing yourself it is very hard to get momentum to start again.  Take it from someone who knows....

The Measure of Success

Often, we measure success by the money we make, the car we drive, the clothes we wear.  We measure success by how much someone paid for a piece of art that we created, how many pieces we can sell at a show, or how many pieces we can make in a day, a week, a month.  Perhaps those are are some measures of success, but do those measures help us grow as artists or as people?  A woman came into the shop today and told me about a dinner party she had, at which he serve her coffee and tea in the handmade mugs she has purchased throughout the years.  She explained how everyone loved them and the fact that they were all so different.  That simple story warmed my heart.  That is success.  This woman told us how much she loved our work, as did her friends.  This is the story that will make me go back to the studio and try to improve my work, try new shapes, and just get my hands in clay again.  It reminds me of why I love putting my hands in clay....so that others can enjoy the warmth of a mug filled with tea, enjoy eating off a beautiful plate to discover the lovely glaze when all their food is gone, or enjoy displaying nature's bounty in a unique one-of-a-kind vase.  That is what makes me happy...the joy of making others happy.  Success can be measured many ways, but perhaps happiness is the only true measure.