“We are the music makers, we are the dreamers of dreams.” Say it out loud. Say it again. Go about your day reminding yourself regularly, and do it again tomorrow. Be who you are, fully, magnificently, even mildly at first. It gets easier with practice, and like Willy, plenty of time alone to develop just exactly who you are. Say it one more time. Good.
There’s something about the new gang of Robins picking through the ground layers this week, something about the tunes of birds I haven’t heard for months, something about oak buds swelling, wood piles dwindling, and the sun staying a little longer each day…
Spring is near, which means that Spring Clay Club is soon to start. Do you want to get your hands in clay? For 8 weeks, the studio is yours on tuesdays and thursdays. All clay is provided. Your challenge is to explore, test the limits, try something new, practice matching your mind’s ideas to your hands abilities, show up and play.
Join us. Starting March 13, 1pm or 6pm.
(And I’m so looking forward to having you here…)
There’s nothing more soothing than homemade soup in the winter, which has me thinking about spoons, yep, ceramic spoons. Thanks to Gwendolyn Yoppolo, Lorna Meaden, and Kenyon Hanson for their spectacular, thoughtful spoons. Each one looks substantial, yet comfortable. No extremely thin and fragile handles here…with clay, what’s called for is a little substance.
So, by all means, get ye to the kitchen for a batch of miso soup with greens, black beans with citrus, or pureed carrot soup with cilantro. Kenyon’s ladles will help you get it out of the pot….
Heidi Bucher’s sculptures have been on my mind lately, as a meditation on costume, what we wear each and every day compared to what we wear for specific occasions. When and where would I try to pull this one off? How about on a flatbottom boat floating down the Potomac River on a foggy warm spring morning? Or certainly a parade. There’s ecstasy in following creative urges, sometimes, and perhaps second-hand ecstasy in the urges of others.
The tie to these visual forms and what happens in the studio is direct, sometimes urgent. In cities, I’ll stop mid-stride to sketch a gesture, the line of strangers’ sleeves and hats, a twist of unexpected architecture. In this sub-rural area I call home, it’s the caves, rocks, tumbling down structures, and locals on these streets and trails. The eye is constantly learning. Vases a little heavier at the base. Handles drawing from anatomy, or just off a bit, leaning and weathered.
Now to giggle…Heidi’s work also brings a zany, zesty love of the absurd, especially with the videos of her pieces walking on a beach. Truly. Watch this now, twice.
And to cool off a bit, this Humans of New York image, like a sweet glaze on afternoon teacake, gently calls to mind grapefruit, or cardamom. These incredible daily images of real Yous and Mes are the salve that keep my mind cool and collected, the ice in my ice coffee. As Mardi Gras approaches, let the mask making commence.
What we wear, when we wear it, how we choose and know what’s just the right shirt, pants, socks…these ideas are sometimes so second nature, and other times labored over for hours, weeks. The above stripes would be my outfit of choice for every day, if I owned it, so perhaps I’m lucky that I don’t.
Now, Alexander’s Jacket would be for going out, but regular. I sometimes think that barbed wire gets a bad rep, spikey and all, but how lovely of a pattern it makes, meandering verticals. This whole piece feels perfect.
So when I wake up in the morning, I call on my inner Louise, who did not feel right unless she had on her multiple sets of eyelashes. What is my costume for the day? Where can I push myself to express with this vessel that is my body? How does this translate to the vessels that I make in my studio? And just in case I get overly intense about it, Humans of New York bring me back down to this reality, this world we live in, where some days, I wrap a blanket around my head, layer up, and go about my business. We’re all quirky…and we’re all ok.
Advice to sink in slowly, on this icy, rainy, winter day. Slow down; drink tea. Make it in a teapot. Take a moment, while drinking tea, to look at the teapot look at your cup. Really look. Are you looking? Consider what you see. Consider the memories you already have of these things, and the memories you are making right now. Enjoy.
“Slow down, drink coffee from a handmade mug. Slow down when making the mug. Pay attention to the earthly processes that are involved and the full nature of what a mug has been and could be. Once again, it will be good for you and good for the planet. Buy from your local potter. Even if the handmade object is not utilitarian, it is a slow object. It still requires a stilling in the making and in the enjoying. Slow down; take it in on a sensual level. Add to that basic appeal whatever experience you have had with similar objects, be it resonance or the surprise of unexpected elements. Buy from a local artist. Attend your local gallery exhibitions. Clay sculptures, installations, conceptual works: they all ask us to slow down and pay attention, to examine our preconceptions.”
There’s nothing slower than a teapot on a chilly winter day. Teapots have been on my mind this month, what with winter and wood stoves and contemplation. These are some of my current mullings, and may they inspire you to pull out your favorite, boil up some hot water, and sip away…