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.