A Review: Akron ArtWalk, September 5, 2015

On Saturday, September 5th a new friend of mine, Erin, joined me to discover Akron's Downtown in the form of an ArtWalk. A little unsure as to what we should expect, we NEOH newbies (Northeast Ohio for those who are confused) drove into Downtown Akron with visions of the booming Brooklyn arts scene clashing with visions of abandoned steel warehouses and creepy alleyways. I think what we found was closer to Brooklyn...

Akron, Ohio, also known as Rubber City because of the tire industry, is located in the Rust Belt, that economically shocked part of our country that saw the steel, car, plastic, and polymer industry money flood in and right back out again with just as much force. The Goodyear Blimp still flies around here and the mansions still line the streets in certain neighborhoods but the devastation is palpable. As you drive around various parts of Akron there are overgrown parking lots, empty weedy squares where houses once stood, and broken windows in hollow warehouses. I think Akron could identify with Eric Clapton as he sings "Once I lived a life of a millionaire..." Even the river still struggles a bit with healthy levels but has come a long way from the blaze of a dump site it was in 1969. Much like the city.

Amid these gloomy facts are glimmers of flames. That is not Akron's only legacy. Not at all. The rocks and parks and trails and trees are gorgeous. The natural resources are delightful. The Cuyahoga River is rushing and most definitely not on fire anymore. The buildings built in Akron's heyday still stand and command reverence along brick streets. New buildings glimmer with hope for more progress towards a healthy and vibrant community. And, even without the money, tourism, and packed streets of other cities, Akron's arts and crafts scene is active, innovative, and entrepreneurial.

Not surprisingly, The Downtown Akron ArtWalk as well as another recent event called PorchRokr showed an abundance of rust, found objects, industrial souvenirs, and steam punk vibes. But usually not in some kitsch angsty way. I got the feeling that ideas reigned over depression, spirit over gloom. Cool things are happening here.

Erin and I enter the scene. People and energy filled spaces as we followed our map and the delightfully bubble-like stickers from the warehouse studios and Crafty Mart of Summit Art Space to the funky upstairs Ro3 Gallery. The atmosphere was down to earth and inviting. People were talkative, hanging out, meeting each other, showing each other artwork and eating and drinking. I downloaded the Akron Art Prize app for the evening where I could find pieces on display and save them to my list. I had 5 votes to use and I wanted to be sure to choose my top 5 favorites.

Restaurants, music venues, shops, and galleries were all on our map for the evening. We covered as much as we could and could've seen more. A trolley drove about picking up and dropping off happy art seekers. Akron Glass Works was a highlight since they were hard at work in the hot studio. A human anatomy book cut into topographical incisions also caught our eye. We meandered into Urban Eats, a coffee shop/cafe with large plywood pieces on the wall holding graphic black and white stencils. There were multiple paint nights going on in public spaces, giving people a chance to see and experience the process of making. Or remaking. Like Akron. 

Erin and I made our way back to our car and passed a long line of young people waiting for a flashy club to open. The combination of events over the course of the evening surprised us both and prompted Erin to exclaim, "This is actually Akron!" #ActuallyAkron is my new hashtag for the city. #ActuallyAkron is pretty cool. The Akron Art Prize will be chosen and given out at a later event. I'm definitely going. 

 

"Dancing with Failure"

Would you say yes? If failure walked up and asked you for this dance? Would you say yes? I'm not sure I would. 

Source

Chris Horne is a devil of a failure. He says so himself. In fact, he just spoke to a gaggle of creatives and community members in Akron, OH about his dance with failure. Now, just to clarify, he is the successful creator of The Devil Strip, an art, music, and culture magazine/ newspaper/ online news source covering everything hip and relevant in Akron. He also won the Knight Foundation grant to do something called Unbox Akron which is rolling out this fall. Unbox Akron is incredibly creative and the anticipation of its debut is killing me. But how did he get there? Through great failures, he says. 

Creative Cog Akron, an artsy speaker series put together by Katelyn Gainer, kicked off with Chris Horne's "Dancing with Failure." Horne took me by surprise. In his conversation about failure he directed us toward community rather than self-realization. He said that "we are wired for connectivity and being connected is what gives us confidence ... Being local is being human." 

He suggested that whether you will fail or succeed in your pursuit is not the question. The questions are, rather, whether you are taking action that makes us better, whether you are telling stories, and whether you are connecting people. We all seek a purpose, a drive, and a mastery. Can we help each other in these pursuits? Horne says yes. We know ourselves through our community, they help you find energy for your ideas and push you forward. But they can also catch you when you fail and help gather the pieces of failure to try again. 

Dancing is such a whimsical word to use with something as weighty as failure. Trying something potentially incredible could take off and soar or it could crash into a burning wreck. That burning wreckage is exactly why failure is weighed down with so much fear. But Horne said that to dance with failure isn't to try to lighten its reality. To dance with failure is to let it be a possibility. And in community, that isn't such a scary prospect. 

Live Local. Dare Greatly. 

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat." - T. Roosevelt 

A Maker's Struggles

"The Studio" Update: Re-rooting and Patience  (from my island blog: The Study and The Studio)

Something interesting is happening. I wasn't quite sure what it was until recently. After a few weeks, a few long walks up steep hills, and a few conversations with wise people, I think I'm getting a glimpse. 

I've been quietly frustrated with my seeming abundance of time and corresponding lack of production, inspiration, and energy when it comes to making things. "So much time and space and new resources: What is wrong with me?"... is the mantra subtly threading through my everyday. It is a mantra that can creep in for all of us in different ways. We have certain expectations of ourselves and of situations. Then, in the situation, we wait to see those expectations filled rather than what the actual experience brings. We build a social construct in our mind that becomes a faux-Truth even before the experience can produce the actual reality. 

Beginning in December of last year, I was uprooted and replanted. I graduated from a Masters program, welcomed my fiancé back from 4 months apart, got married, turned 30, and moved to an island. When I got here 2 months ago, it was as though I put my hands on my hips and stood there watching, waiting, expecting to see fruit bloom as soon as my feet hit the ground. Well, where was the fruit?! I'm adventurous, creative, and now I've got time. What is wrong with me? Stupid tree. It doesn't work anymore. Great, now I'm on an island with so much time and I'm worthless. Am I drowning or acclimating? Acclimating, obviously, right? RIGHT? Get on with it!

My lack of patience astounds me. My wise sister said maybe I should recognize mini-wins each day (like the day I figured out how to change the propane tank on our stove and carried the 50lb. thing all the way home just to prove something to myself). Maybe I shouldn't try to be producing creativity in the midst of figuring out the basics of living, of surviving (like how not to get run over while crossing the street or crossing in front of an angry donkey). The daily hardships of this place are real but hardly seem so to outsiders since my pictures mainly exude the beauty of this Nature Island. How do I explain things? How do I communicate (an act of expressing something inside of me) through my artwork that which I haven't yet ingested? 

Like any adjustment (losing a loved one, moving, getting married, new job, new kid...), patience is key and expectations can kill the possible joys in your new reality. I am grateful for a partner who shows me this patience and one who can see my fears and emotions I try to hide oh so well. 

Networking...

Networking is essential to successful and satisfying work, especially for artists. Artists are often of the mindset that they are islands, plagued with the difficult task of doing it all themselves.

While self motivation and alone time with your craft are essential, collaboration and networking seem to be underrated in the minds of individual artists. Done right, networking can boost not hurt your artwork and mind set. In the words of Bill Withers, we all need someone to lean on. Help, encourage, and love and ask for it too. It may not shape up the way you expected, but great things are born from those situations.

This is a short but helpful article on networking. She focuses on women, but the basics are true for all.

Creating during Graduate School

There is an elephant in my room. But its not grad school. Unlike this picture, the elephant in my room has been creativity. I was trying to ignore it. I was trying to pretend to be solely an academic. The elephant grew. My focus in Arts Management classes is on papers, projects, readings, and tests... as it should be. But recently, struggling with the lack of creative time, it was suggested that I find some sort of collaboration or accountability to try and help make the time.

Fortunately, around this same time, a fellow visual artist in my program and I started to share about this issue we both face. As we talked, we naturally began to collaborate and compare "notes," spurring each other on to draw and create. Our mediums and styles are so different. He works primarily in metals and his drawing style reflects the engraving principles in which he trained. It is inspiring to see his work and watch him create.

While it would be great to use this inspiration towards some interesting collaboration and work in ceramics, I don't have consecutive days to devote to pottery. Certain steps in the pottery process require consecutive days. So, until I get a handle on that, I've been drawing and creating in mixed media. While a bit rusty, I think I'm getting into somewhat of a rhythm. I'm trying to do anything with composition, color, and line, easing myself back into the world of creativity.

It is amazing how I try to be an island, and yet, how, over and over again I am shown that it is along side of others that we all really thrive. The act of reaching out, both to seek help and to support someone else, is essential, especially in the seemingly solo world of art and craft creation.


 Recent work in completed/progress:

Leaves and Leaf Stems, Book pages and Maps,  Paint and Paper.

Urban Population Map of the DC Area

Nature.

Detail: Stack of stones. Each of these is labeled with location and date.

Detail: Stack of sticks. Each is labeled with location and date. 

Smooth round stones painted with acrylic paint.

A commission for Robin. Slate garden sign. 

Mini Chairs.

Help!

I am struggling ... I haven't thrown pottery on my wheel for over a year now. My Masters program, which is incredible and going to be a huge boost for me, is a business program.... Arts Management. Thats my priority as it should be. I need to have that forward thinking mind set.

But the lack of studio time is starting to wear me down. I am so enthralled with people and with learning new things... I am completely distracted by the new world here and I've lost the artistic orientation. I do love people but I am so in need of that alone time... I feel depleted.

Any thoughts? Advise? Readings? Words? Ways for a people lover to just say no?

Oh, that Sound Looks so Delicious!

I had the privilege of studying at an intensive fellowship program last year on the Eastern Shore. While there I wrote an essay and performed an experiential event of cross-sensory artistry. Sound complicated? Well, we humans are complicated!

The essay's foundation needed to be a question. My question: How can I, an artistically minded individual, properly and effectively bridge the gap between art and the non-artist? What is the missing piece that seems to be making that gulf wider and wider? How can I act not only as a translator but a motivator, a motivator to the non-artist to feel intrigued, accepted and enriched by all that art and beauty can offer?

The year was rich with discussion and I want to present you with some things and include you in my eventual findings.

Think about art. Does that word make you excited? Bored? Angry? Confused? There are so many controversies around that word. Lets step away from that word for a moment.

Think about a creative friend of yours. That one crazy friend whose brain just seems to endlessly come up with ideas, whose hands seems to make something out of nothing or something beautiful out of junk. Or that one friend who has incredible skills in decorating or throwing a themed party. What do they add to your life? They add interest. They add that other element that enlivens you. Those sorts of experiences make you feel something for which, at times, there are no words.

This brings us to our SENSES. We have 5 specified ones... Sight, Auditory, Touch, Taste, Smell. But there are more. What does it mean to have a sense of history, a sense of family, a sense of fear? We absorb an intense amount of nonverbal information. Not only that, but our senses play off of each other and change the experience. Smell connects to memory, sight to stomach, sound to taste...

Art is this multi-sensory experience ... like intense intellectual reading, conversation, or lecture, it brings us into another realm and makes us grow. Art plays upon our memories, our visions, our senses. Art is and always will be a part of us. I've written on this before (Touch, Language, Fluency) but am so intrigued by this idea that I want to keep revisiting and testing it out.

Here are two short articles about our senses crossing over each other and changing the whole experience.
Smells Like Bethoven  from the Economist. (Thanks to JJ)
What does Sweetness Sound Like? from the Food and Think Blog at the Smithsonian.com. (Thanks to RCA)

I hope this idea wakes you up, if not to art, to the crazy awesome world we live in. Eventually, I think, you will begin to appreciate art's place ... a strong tool for waking you up and pulling you up. And the arguments about what it is? Just another bee in your bonnet.

Catch it by the tail

Hello 2012. This year I started a masters program. I'm still not sure if that means if I am mastering something or if I am getting mastered! The program is an MA in Arts Management. I am taking 12 graduate credits and, while time consuming, every single class is stimulating and fascinating.

As I yearn for time to create I thought maybe my work for class, my reading, writing, and discussions, could fill this desire. Well, that sure didn't work. Ideas rush through looking for the old enthusiasm and action but find a stale academic instead. While a break from making is hard, I know that the things I am learning will only spur on even better creating later on.

In the mean time I am meeting wonderful artists and art-instigators. These inspirations are pushing me to work harder and dig deeper into this subject of what it means to be an Arts Manager and how to do it well.

The following TED talk is from Elizabeth Gilbert who wrote Eat, Pray, Love. While I didn't enjoy that book in particular, Gilbert, an artist of words and story, does an incredible job of describing the creative process and giving a better view of the artist. (Thanks to WB for alerting me to this video!)

If you are an artist, this will show you some balance...something we all need. If you are not an artist, this talk can help you understand the arts without feeling ignorant of the technicals. Enjoy!

Four Tips for Getting Things Finished!

"[I have a lot of] projects ... going on right now, and I find I end up just reading all the fun magazines and blogs I never have time for in real life.  But this is real life and I need to get busy!  Which I notice you're good at, so please, any helpful self-motivators?"

In the span of two weeks a few different friends posed questions to me like the one above. How do I motivate myself, get projects done, act as my own boss... It is a HUGE question and one that I have to rethink daily. I am grateful for the question since it makes me really concentrate on what I am doing and how I am doing it. 

Its definitely not something I figured out once and have in the bag. We are funny, us humans, always wanting to be needed, wanting to be busy and have things to do but constantly trying to find ways around actual work and ways to stay on our own selfish comfy couch. When you have a boss or even clients, you have someone who is directly affected by your work and productivity. That personal connection can be a huge motivating factor. I do work with clients and bosses occasionally but my own art projects? There is no one but me.

I have to be the boss: setting the deadlines, motivating the 'staff', lecturing the lazy, disciplining the worker... I also have to be the client: deciding what I want, changing my mind, wanting it to be useful, affordable, beautiful... I also have to be the employee: putting in the long hard hours, maintaining the deadline set by the boss, producing... 

This reality has been required of me in my situation for years now. In high school I signed up for the art show and realized that I would show up on that day, by myself, to present whatever it was that I completed. There was no one there to grade me, reprimand me, praise me for doing what I set out for myself... people would either stop at my booth or they would not. I was responsible for the work that I did.

In college I wrote up proposals for Independent Studies where, by very definition, you are your own boss. Yes, at certain points in the semester, the professor would check in and at the end I had to present my work. But it was up to me to get out of the study what I wanted. There wasn't an exam to work toward or someone holding my hand through out, ensuring that I would get as much as possible from the experience. I either did or I didn't. Really, I could've fudged my way through an Independent Study if I wanted to... but then where was I? Who had I duped? No one but myself. 

After college I've worked many jobs and continued to create on the side. My work for an employer would finish and then there was my other boss standing in the mirror, urging me to get on with it!

So, how do I set deadlines for myself? What are my "self-motivator tricks?" 

First: Keep it fluid. 

I can't emphasize enough that it is a fluid process. As I change and as my environment changes, my tactics for motivation and focus have to change as well. Like I said before, I've not 'figured it out and have it in the bag.' Just realizing this fact helps me get to work each day. I look at it like a mystery to solve each day, an adventure in discovery... I'll give you some examples that are close to home. "Hmm, wow today I am REALLY distracted! I haven't stayed on one thing for more than 10 minutes" or "I really don't feel like doing anything today. What is the point anyways? Nothing really matters" or "Hooray! Today I am going to work so hard! ...*2 hours later*... Wait! I'm still watching these youtube clips?! What time is it?!" Then there are outside factors too. I set a list to complete but then a friend needs help unexpectedly, a call comes that takes far too long, I run into an old friend, etc. So realizing that each day's tactics for getting to work have to be directed at that day's adventure is helpful to me. 

Second: Keep promises. 

I am very serious about keeping promises to myself. If I say that I will work on project X or finish cleaning item X, I do it (almost) no matter what. That means if I've made bad decisions earlier in the day or the week I don't just toss that fact aside saying, "Oh well, it doesn't really matter." Sure, my project will still be there, there is still time, etc but I've broken a promise. I am responsible for the use of my time. I will stay up late, say no to fun outings, skip a movie or TV show or reading my book at night in order to stay on track. I see this as good practice for how i interact with others as well. If I make a promise to someone else, I will do all I can to keep it. Be consistent. (Preaching to myself here!)

Third: Lists and priorities. 

I make lists all the time. I include little things and big things. This means my list includes

- Sand down Plywood for tray

- Saw Molding for trim of tray

- Reply to J and K's emails

- Put clothes away

- Eat lunch 

By including all of the things that I want/need to complete I can properly evaluate how much time I have. This way I can create manageable lists. Being honest with myself as to what I can actually complete helps me keep a good attitude. I usually have 2 columns: one column for that day's list and one for things I think of as I create a list (since inevitably my brain gets excited and starts to come up with ALL of the things I could possibly do). After making a list, the evaluation of priorities begins. I constantly have to evaluate priorities. I fail a lot but continue to evaluate and re-evaluate and try to learn. 

EXAMPLE: Do I need to check my email? Yes. I may have time sensitive emails from clients or bosses. I get to my email and have 4 emails that were unexpected and have link to watch or read fascinating things. Do I read them now? Was that what I planned to do? NO. Do I FEEL like watching/reading them right now. YES. Ignore, star in my inbox, and come back another time. The more I give in to whatever I feel like doing in the moment, the less I get done and the more bad decisions I make. 

Fourth: Have a motivating factor.

A motivating factor helps me a lot. If my work outs are getting to be few and far between, I sign up for a race or ask a friend to join to get me out there training. If my art projects are starting to take far too long or pile up, I'll get them out to the public somehow... a show, Etsy, anything! If my home has a half-finished project or my room is a mess, I'll invite someone over to scare myself into responsibility. I often make little calendars and hang it on my bedroom door with a sharpie. The calendar only has the days from the starting date to the ending date of the particular goal. Each night I either cross off the day (meaning I did what needed to be done that day) or I circle the day (meaning I was irresponsible and didn't do what I should've). Then I can see how well I am doing... how much I have actually kept my promises... it keeps me very realistic about my work. Then I can look back at the end and say, "Wow! I really stuck to it!" or look back and say, "Well, no wonder you didn't finish by now... just look at how many days are circled." Count up the circled days, add those to the goal date and try again. No fluff added, just the failed days. 

This eventually gets deep down into your foundation. I find that the more sensitive my conscience is the more guilty I feel for not being productive in a way that would improve the lives of others. I know this is an abstract thought but it really keeps me putting my nose to the grindstone rather than doing whatever it is that I feel like doing. My religious beliefs give me a lot of hope and excitement in this realm. 

Now stop reading this blog and go do a project!

Creative work takes a while...

Thanks to RCA for sharing this. I found it encouraging and challenging. Keep working!

Ira Glass on Storytelling from David Shiyang Liu on Vimeo.

Space

So here I am, on the edge of the Chesapeake, learning, living, and generally loving life.

Now that the initial suspension of reality is dropping, I am settling into my artistic rhythm again. The work load at the Academy has been difficult to balance, especially with regard to artwork. I didn't expect it to be quite this hard but its a challenge that is growing me in areas of responsibility that haven't been touched. That is a good thing. You can keep telling me that, cause I sure forget some times.

Among the many things that I am learning, I've discovered that space is essential. While learning the ropes in the beginning, my mind was preoccupied and I was hard pressed to be creative. When I was finally inclined to create, I felt claustrophobic with my ideas. I had no where to give space to that creative energy. But creativity doesn't just go away. Much of it was expressed and still is expressed in daily activities, in social creativity: creatively engaging with the surroundings, with the other fellows, and adding or highlighting beauty where I can. I put clippings from outside in vases for the dinner table, decorate spaces, draw in community, encouraging others to creatively engage as well.

Recently a couple donated a bunch of freshly caught rockfish to the fellows (always wonderful to get more food!). I volunteered to write the thank you note and decided to paint them a fish in gratitude:

Meanwhile I am working to create a real creative space for myself. As soon as I've worked that out, I'll post some pictures. I am excited about the secret space I've found and am renovating.

Silence is Golden

"Silence is golden..." I think that quote came about because those who work (making the "gold") all the time are never heard from! My silence has been the product of long hard days full of starched shirts, hot plates, aching feet, hungry people, and beautiful annual flowers coming in by the truck load. Spring has brought a different sort of rain this year and work is flooding my days, whether at my garden center or at my restaurant or in my studio.

Because my passion and focus (art/pottery) is not a clear cut job to apply for and work in solely, I find that I often forget that I do have a passion. What do I mean? Well, as I rush to the kitchen on my first rounds, dropping off dirty dishes, entering the order in the computer, and picking up another server's drink order, I know that serving is not my passion. I'd like to have one job, a job where I can be paid to do what I know, want to learn and am passionate about.

My best friend is a chef. She is enthusiastic and beginning to focus in a particular direction with her culinary talents. She just got a job at an incredible restaurant with the ideals she holds and the passion she exudes. Good food, exceptional food cannot be replaced by microwave boxed meals. Because real cooking, fresh cooking, is still somewhat practiced in homes across America, people can recognize a good meal. People seek out a good meal, share in it, are willing to pay for it, and enjoy it. They have experienced it once and want more, hence the typical longing for "mom's cooking" or a "fine home cooked meal." What they've experienced is real substance, prepared by human hands.

Unfortunately, artistry and craftsmanship of America is lost amongst the mass manufactured. While fresh home cooking has dwindled in the 15 second meal in a box (hopefully being revived by movements like "Slow Food" or Farm to Table"), art education is dwindling even more. And I don't just mean education in the formal sense. Education, especially in something like art and craft, can come from experiencing them.

Bernard Leach writes about this in "The Potter's Challenge". While he, of course, is speaking of pottery primarily, this can be applied to a much broader picture of art and craft - cooking, textiles, painting, photography, etc.

"One has to live with fine pots in order to appreciate their character, for they are intimate expressions of peoples and their cultures. Human virtues such as nobility, generosity, breadth, simplicity, sincerity, and charity -- virtues common to both man and pot -- are there to be discovered in shape, texture, color, and pattern."

It is in the familiarity with these hand made pieces, in knowing the maker, getting comfortable with the various aspects of the meal, of the picture, of the pot, that we really do learn.

[images: 'Cafe des Amie' sketch and 'Chef' sketch by Sarah Coffin]

Touch

I grab the wooden handled wire tool, wrapping the thin wire twice around my fingers, and feel it press into my skin as I cut my wet pot from the wheel. I have dried clay cracking around my wrists and wet clay between my fingers. As I slap a new mound of clay on my wheel I can feel it give way and change shape. I throw the walls of my next bowl and my outside fingers mimic the opening motion they can feel of my inside fingers.

The sense of touch is a huge part of a potter's life. While everyone "feels" everyday, a potter's livelihood rests in a heightened sense of touch. A sensitive yet firm grasp of what is happening with your hands is essential.

This appreciation of touch was brought home to me when my sister, my niece and I sat together watching a documentary the other day. At one point in the film, a woman walked through a beautiful stone arched veranda in Paris. The camera panned over an immaculate garden full of trimmed hedges, brightly colored flowers, and rich green grass. The woman's hair, frizzy and red, made the colors of the flowers pop and both contrasted beautifully with the stone arches and gray, rainy sky. My 3 year old niece's immediate reaction to this gorgeous scene was, "Mom, can we go there for I can touch it?" And then added, "I want to touch it so I can feel it."

So human and so real! She wasn't just content to sit on the couch and see the scene before her, she wanted to envelope her senses in it, to truly experience it by touching the stone or wet grass or frizzy red hair. This desire is one that so many of us don't realize we are missing in our world of life on screen. TV and computers have made it possible to experience a vast amount of the world previously privy to the rich or well traveled. But this innocent sentiment of a 3 year old made me think. We should not be content with duo-sensory (did I just make up that term?!) experiences on screen, overdeveloping our hearing and seeing senses. We should seek out true full experiences for ourselves as well! We should be conscious of how each sense absorbs particular circumstances during the day. I believe that in developing and titillating all five, life will take on an extraordinarily satisfied feeling of fullness.

How have you fed all five of your senses today?

touch taste smell see hear

A Potter's Plights?

There are plights with every job. Some are obvious: construction workers' backs, a waitress' irritating customers who send everything back or their feet, a computer programmer's wrists, or a plein-air painter's eyes (cataracts!). And some are not so obvious. I find it fascinating to understand those aspects of other people's jobs, the things that we wouldn't think to empathize with.

A potter, other than the usual "I'm an artist" plights, have some odd afflictions.

1. My middle finger, ring finger, and pinkie on my right hand are constantly scraping the wheel head. Because of that, my finger nails on those fingers are worn down on the right hand corners making for an odd feeling, odd looking set of nails. No fussing about broken nails here!

2. The muscle between my thumb and forefinger is awesome. Ok, really its just that I can flex it and its hard. Yes, rather like what I wish my biceps were, my thumb muscle IS. What IS that muscle called?!

3. Many older potters suffer from Silicosis, a disease from the silica in clay and glazes. They did not realize the dangers (or have OSHA regulations!) back in the day, and breathed in things that we mask well now (or should). Basically you suffocate slowly from the silica partials that attach to your lung walls. A famous potter, Warren Mackenzie, is suffering from this now.

4. Potters often have arthritis in their hands, wrists, or elbows.

5. I often have hands and nails stained from the materials with which I work and have to struggle to clean them or some how cover them for my serving job which does NOT allow for hands like that!

What are some of the interesting plights in YOUR job?!

[Lucie Rie's hands shown in picture above]

Female?

In a few weekends I am going back to my college as a guest artist. Their annual art show, Project Eve, is a celebration of women in the arts. Excited by the mother/daughter lineage, they invited Jennie to come as well. There will be a number of other events including some demos and talks to the ceramics classes, a "Career Services" event, and an article in the newspaper. I am excited to head back to my Alma Mater and share what little bit I've learned from being out of the "fold" and a part of this great big world of ours.

In the flurry of activity before we go (glazing, firing, profiles, questions, event details, etc.), I had the opportunity to answer some questions regarding the upcoming event. One question was obvious, given the focus of Project Eve: What does it mean to you to be a woman in the arts? Now this got me thinking quite a bit about labels and led to a great discussion at the dinner table last night. What does it mean?

When I first sat down to answer that question, I started in on vague ideas - women communicate differently, women have a different perspective, etc. But the more I wrote, the more unclear I became. The truth is, I don't think about it. My artwork stems from my being which is made up of various parts: my personality, my experiences, my race, my place in time, my economic status, my religion, my 'female-ness', my age, etc. I am a woman and in that reality, I am an artist. It is not a platform for some sort of ideology.

I see many who pick up on one aspect of reality and bring it to the forefront of all they do. Suddenly all of the "various parts" are flattened for that ONE aspect. It becomes a driving force for them, it becomes an ideology. Their artwork becomes one dimensional, ignoring the facets of life that make appealing artwork.

I believe that artwork can speak volumes because it has a being of its own, made up of various parts, like a human. My religion is a part of me that informs my purpose and worldview; I don't need to plaster crosses on my pots. My place in time informs much of how I work and my understanding of the world. Yet great art is timeless, transcending the time period to speak truths about human nature and the world. My gender is a part of me that has given me certain experiences and it may subtly show itself in my work; I don't need to plaster female symbols on my drawings. I think it is partly a lack of self confidence that leads to these ideologies. People do not seek to know themselves, to know what they think and why they think it, leading to a blurry self image. Harping on one facet of life gives a clear path, though limited and ultimately mundane.

So, yes, I am a female in the arts but I am also a runner in the arts, a Christian in the arts, a hiker in the arts, a young adult in the arts ... and eager to see the unique work that comes of this ever changing combination.

Diligence

At a stupid hour to be awake, running out of time and money, I decided to make some important decisions in my life. Never a good idea but its done. And it all worked out just as I "planned".

I am now working for a local, high class, high expectations, high stress restaurant chain. My whole working life I have avoided the restaurant biz. Now, as I think about it, I'm not exactly sure why. I love people, I love action, I love food. Seems like a good fit. But the whims and particularities of people and their comforts (ie. food) seemed like a tall order for me, a person who wants to ensure that everyone is pleased as pie. There were always a few too many variables in that picture for it to be a happy one for me.

Yet here I am, getting shirts professionally dry cleaned, buying "spec" shoes and skirts, memorizing ingredients, learning how to answer a phone and put people on a wait, maintaining a smile, always a smile.

I cannot help but say that I am disappointed. I love, absolutely love, this restaurant. I would not work for another restaurant. But here I am, 26 and working in a restaurant (not even able to be a waiter yet since I have no prior experience), struggling to find the time and energy to devote to art and struggling to make ends meet. I am stressed learning the details and spending more money than I've made so far. I would be lying if I didn't say that at this point, I'm loosing sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.

These are the moments that I think I should throw in the towel and walk away. But that's just it. When I think of walking away, what is it that I'm walking away from? Dreams. Now, that word has become so cliched it almost makes me roll my eyes to say it. But really, that is what I would be walking away from: a dream. "A strongly desired goal or purpose", something to consider as a possibility. I was talking to a friend about some of this and he had the best response, "I know it is overwhelming and stressful at times, and if that is the case, you need to march your butt downstairs and throw some clay around. That will get your mind off of things and calm you down a bit."

Any fool should be able to see that merely because a dream is not realized at this particular moment does not mean that any towels should be thrown in any direction but over your shoulder for more work to be done. The key word there is "should", any fool should be able to see. But my sorry excuse for patience and hard work blurs that sight completely and I am struggling to wipe my eyes clear. While I'd like to be present, be aware and active in the now, I need to keep that strong desire, that purpose, that goal in mind.

Beauty

Roger Scruton is a British philosopher with a tall mess of strawberry blond hair and an English fashion sense. His patterned suit coat, patterned shirt, and patterned tie played wonderfully into the British stereotype. That being said, his lecture did anything but.

This past week I went into DC to a beautiful club for Scruton's lecture on Beauty. Scruton is boldly breaking from modern aesthetic philosophy on beauty to say that it is absolutely necessary, that it is about redeeming human life and making this world livable. I found the lecture very encouraging and thought provoking. I will try to give a coherent picture of his lecture (I'm going to quote him periodically. He was free with his language so I'm sorry if it is offensive to anyone):

He started by noting that beauty is not paid attention to much these days, saying that there is "nothing which to raise your eyes." In the world of art, he went on, beauty has been neglected; we are stuck in a moment in which art is not the pursuit of beauty but the desecration of it. He called this the tragedy of modern life and by neglecting beauty we produce ultimately useless things. We can see this in the buildings built and torn down without thought in contrast to the buildings that we want to save. Why? Because pure function "resigns things to oblivion."

One of my favorite points of the lecture came after this introduction. He clarified beauty to be beyond just "art". Scruton thinks of beauty and its place in the lives of real people; where does beauty fit in the lives of ordinary people? He envisioned a table set for dinner, an easy image to conjure at this time of year! The arranging of the items, the making of the food, the inviting people to participate ... its not just a matter of food in the belly. With that image in mind, contrast it to much of art today: not inviting others in; "its ME on display and f*** you if you don't like it." In the Q&A time afterwards a gentleman in the back asked Scruton to define beauty. Scruton gave a wry smile and said that that is like trying to define "red". Beauty is defining "a state of mind in the objects, the arragnging of the world so that you are at home in it."

So why is it, Scruton asked, that our tastes in ordinary things like food are not argued about but accepted as part of a person but with beauty we want to discuss what we like and why. He claimed that it is because these are things that actually can demean the human condition which matters incredibly to you, being part of humanity. The desecration of beauty is oppressive and being oppressed, there ought to be some discussion about this!

At this point I connected this to why there is a noticeable lack of interest in/engagement with art today: not only because the artist is not inviting the viewer in but because this needed "discussion" mentioned above is a difficult and blurry path to go down.

Scruton gave some interesting thoughts on education, saying that there should be some education in producing the things that entertain us, giving us a foundation of knowledge upon which to base an opinion of what we listen to, look at, enjoy, etc. And that way, he claimed, there might be some agreement in community of what entertains us.

Well, where does the desecration of beauty/humanity start? Scruton had what I thought was a great point, that it starts with the ruling thought that "I am alone." That is the downfall.

Well, I am not alone! And I hope that provoked you to some thoughts on beauty and humanity as well.

Reality

I walk amidst the leaves of autumn in familiar Virginia again, having left just 3 short months ago. No more horizon with mountain peaks out my front door, no more almond and olive groves to climb through, no more Seth and proper British ways, no more enthusiastic Spaniards speaking rapidly to me. My time in Spain is definitely over. That reality must have crept in over night last night, like a large looming rain cloud, because today, day 6 of being home, is the hardest.

As expected, it doesn't seem real. I took a grand leap in my artistic life and am on the other side of the chasm now. I thought, as I sat on the plane on Monday, that I would wake up on Tuesday morning, in my very own bed, and imagine I dreamt the entire experience, a long, elaborate and wonderful dream. It does feel like that now ... though when I woke on Tuesday morning my first thought was, how do I get to the bathroom!?

I went through all of the motions of leaving: packing, cleaning, stripping the bed, saying Adios to people and places, but I couldn't comprehend not being there anymore. At 3am on Monday morning I walked into the courtyard, through the antique wooden door ornately carved by a Spaniard years ago, passed the garage where Seth keeps his "girlfriend" (An antique car, the Morris 8), passed the ruins of old goat stalls, passed the empty river bed which gleamed in the dark with it's white stones, bent beyond the cliff and out of sight, to the red Spanish van I learned to love and hate.

As we drove out of Masia Albadas in the dark, my mind flooded with the things I would miss most. I thought of my walk to work each day, down the stone stairs I so meticulously weeded, crumbling and uneven, passed the newly jacketed kiln, passed discarded pots and into a dirt and stone floored wonderful mess.

I thought of the work that I had come to learn, work which energizes and exhausts, work which brings each customer a period, even if its just a brief moment, of contemplation - that life is more than your 9-5, life is more than greyscale predictability, that we are more than ants scuttling from place to place.

We can touch, smell, taste, feel, and see such a range and variety that even with the awareness of thousands of years of human creativity we still have the urge to create, share, and try to communicate with each other what is beauty and goodness and what is not.

To ignore this is to isolate ourselves, a very unnatural and spirit crushing mental state. Modernity has made it easier and cheaper to surround ourselves with factory produced 'beauty' but the lack of human touch in the objects is akin to a human with no contact, an ultimately stoney and cold thing. It evaporates the potential for long lasting beauty.

I have many things to share and stories to tell but for now, for today, thank you for reading. Thank you for learning along with me what it means to share, to enjoy, and to appreciate the rugged beauty in human creativity and creation.

Lisps and dill

I used to work with a spitfire of a woman from Poland. Her English was nearly perfect and her Polish accent clipped or lengthened certain words, giving everything she said a seductive glaze. She occasionally asked for correct pronunciations which I gave gladly but couldn't help feeling that the way she expressed it had a fullness which my tone completely lacked. Despite this, she often mentioned how embarrassed she was of her English. I tried to encourage her that there was never any question of what she was communicating - something I long for now. My Spanish started off so vacant and looks I got in response were too. I imagine that if my Polish friend could hear her English when she first began, she would not be so hard on herself. As I hear myself trying desperately to communicate in the local language, I know that its laughable. The glimmering moments when I've done it on my own and the poor Spaniard across from me responds with an affirming "Ci!" are precious to me.

The other day I went to the grocery store, a tiny two aisle place in Els Ibarsos, and walked around looking for the herb Dill. It wasn't in my dictionary, so I proceeded to try and figure out how in world I could find it with out the actual word.

Rather than giving up, I told the grocer, a small Spanish woman who is used to seeing me and dealing with my fumbling of her language, that I was looking for a green herb sometimes used with pickles. That took some time.

I wasn't sure we had done the job but she was confident that a certain herb was exactly what I wanted. The one she pointed out, "eneldo", happened to be one that I remembered seeing back at the house, unopened. I thanked her and thought I'd go home to smell it and check the larger dictionary before buying it. Sure enough, she and I had understood each other perfectly! "Eneldo" was dill! I went back a few days later and successfully communicated to her that she had been right and that eneldo was what I had wanted! We were both so giddy at the moment, it was wonderful.

All of this thought given to communicating simple and complex ideas made me think of, what else?!, pottery. I remember working as the Ceramics Lab assistant in college. One of my duties was to be present during lab time to assist students fulfilling their studio hours. I loved sitting down with beginners to help them progress. Each person had a different approach to the wheel.

Looking back I see the incredible similarities to language: I was teaching them the language of pottery. The feeling of the clay spinning between thier hands was as foriegn to them as the feeling of a purposeful Spanish lisped word in my mouth. I helped them center the clay or pull up the wall of a pot to give them a better sense of the proper pronunciation with their hands to the clay.

The same glimmer (and virtual affirming "Ci!") came to them when they finally communicated clearly enough to the clay that their first few pots came off the wheel. They were not beautiful by any means -- standing alone and out of context -- just like my Spanish. But in that moment they hold a different sort of beauty, an interpersonal beauty, like a mother appreciating her child's first scribbles.

As I learn the language of pottery, of art, of beauty, I can feel certain aspects becoming more fluid, more natural -- the way English is to my mouth or Polish is to my coworker or Spanish is to my neighbors, Pepe and Rosa. I look back at my first attempts in this deep and complicated language of pottery and appreciate how much I've learned. But I see and work with potters so much more fluent then myself. There is always more to explore, more to understand, more to communicate. I love to hear my pronunciation change slightly as I'm corrected in my Spanish, just as my pots change slightly as I create and learn. While I'll always have my accent, I have a lot to learn to smooth and give coherency to all of my words, all of my pots, all of my work.