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

TONIGHT!

Are you free tonight?! The Kiln Club of Washington D.C. invited me to come speak! I will be presenting on Spain, Seth Cardew, and my experience during my three month stay. I am so thrilled to present and share some of the pottery wisdom I gleaned and some of the wonderful cultural experiences.

Lee Arts Center
5722 Lee Highway Arlington, VA 22207
7pm TONIGHT
March 17th, 2010

International pottery

A friend of mine is in the Peace Corps, living in Burkina Faso. A little bit ago she got the chance to go make pottery with a local potter there. The process is beautiful! Take a look: adventures à go-go

Love it, Carolyn!

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]

Extra, Extra!! Plates hot off the press...

Here they are, as promised! Recent lunch/side plates, fresh from the kiln. Black clay, black glaze, carved with my own interpretation of Norwegian designs, and done in wax resist to let the raw clay show through.

Plates

I have also been throwing plates. Of all forms, plates present the easiest looking shape with the hardest actual construction. Plates are difficult to get flat enough without a collapse, are difficult to dry, take up a lot of space, and cannot be stacked in the glaze firing. A graceful, well made plate, I think, is the sure sign of a seasoned, confident potter. It is a form that exhibits elegance only with practice. There is a crucial moment in a plate's creation that only an innate sense of the clay and the form can attain the subtle yet confident changes of direction.I made a number of small side plates and included carving around the band. That way, the food can sit in the middle with a beautiful hemming in of the contents. I've glazed these and we just opened the kiln last night so completed pictures are on their way!

New shapes

I am throwing with my black clay these days. It is always a challenge because of the mess. Normally I could throw, wash my hands, and be ready to walk out the door. But with my black clay, my hands are stained and it looks as though I forgot to wash my hands after applying self tanner with the edges of my palms (where my hands rub on the wheel head)! Aside from that, I love the black clay. It is a fine particled clay and runs smoothly between my hands. The rich chocolate color of the wet clay encourages my creativity and the deep black color showing through on the finished product is my reward.

Lately I have been trying to make shapes that will allow the user to see my carving or wax resist patterns. I don't do either of those decorating techniques on the insides of my pots because cleaning rough clay or tiny carved portions where food sits would be a pain. Functional pots with straight sides to show off the decorations are easy to come by in a pitcher, a vase, or a cup. But to make a bowl with straight sides that is simultaneously open and inviting to use has been a challenge.

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.

Crossing the Line

WIRE! No, I am not taking up the high wire! I found a great medium for my love of line. I'm drawing with wire! I have been working with wire to capture the essence of the lines that make up a human face. I wrote about line in a previous post and have really gotten into working with wire, thick and thin, to achieve those essential lines I described. My wire sculptures are one continuous piece of wire. This really challenges me to make proper connections (seeing where things can connect even if there isn't a visible connection in reality) and keep it simple enough to envelope a definite character. I don't use any tools, only my fingers, so that there are no inorganic crimps in the wire. One of my favorite elements of the final product is the shadow that each sculpture casts on the paper behind it.

I sold my wire sculptures for the first time at our annual show of Fall 2008. I was absolutely delighted at the response and have had a small selection (as they are quite time consuming!) at each show since then. Last week I "premiered" some on my Etsy page and have already made a sale. It is a proud moment when other people recognize and appreciate elements that I see in what I create ... very similar to the feeling I got when I was a teacher and my students finally grasped a concept or when they proudly showed off their hard work to their parents. I think it bolsters my sense of purpose, knowing that I have successfully communicated, through any means, to another human being. This is what creates fellowship, community, society; it is what brings us out of the isolation of ideas in our own minds and connects those ideas to the reality that is our fellow man.

Enjoy the slide show of amateur photos of my wire sculptures below!

Gretchen and Edie

I often tell people that I chose not to go to art school because I've spent my life as an Art major. My family, on both sides, has art running through the genes. So, really, I can't help myself.

I grew up with original works of art on our walls, my attention drawn to their styles, their differences. Often the youngest at family gatherings, I listened as my family noted colors, shapes, details, and compositions. From a simple walk around the neighborhood to a historic home tour to a camping trip, I naturally gravitated towards trying to see what drew my eye, seeing beauty in a seed pod, a painting, a wrought iron gate, a pattern in the sidewalk, the way the wind caused a tree to bend...

Trips to "Grandma's house" always encouraged this appreciation of beauty. Both of my Grandmother's, Edie Coffin and Gretchen Quie, were professional artists, visibly producing, growing, and challenging themselves in their work. Paintings hung on the walls and sat on easels. Handmade paper, woodblocks, illustrations, hand thrown pots, and designs for murals made my head spin in all of the creativity.

I can remember Grandma Coffin, with her easel set up on the dinning room table at the beach house. I watched her, with her watercolors and brushes, sweeping the paper with washes that suddenly became the stormy sky outside. She sat with me and showed pictures from her painting trips to other countires, the paintings in the pictures now completed and hanging on the wall or in a gallery. I sat with Grandma Coffin and her painting "buddies" listening to them discuss the effects of this color or that stroke, watching them draw the world around them. (Self-portrait Squares by Edie Coffin)

I can remember going to Minnesota to visit the Quie side of the family. Grandma Quie always had projects for us. Once we were driving home from an event and we passed a dock full of fisherman. Grandma Quie made a u-turn, drove down to the dock, and got out to ask the fishermen for a small fish. We took it home, rolled it with blue paint, and pressed it onto a piece of paper. I still have my fish print, numbered, signed and matted. (Two Men by Gretchen Quie)

These women were not weekend painters, they were artists because they were created to create. Each of them drew people's attention to a different way of seeing, to the details in a world full of interest.

The following are merely photographs, a poor attempt to capture the qulaity of the paintings themselves. Still Life by Gretchen Quie

Four Bathers by Gretchen Quie

Sketch of a woman by Gretchen Quie

Vase by Edie Coffin (a study of a pot!)

Woman by Edie Coffin

Baltimore Harbor by Edie Coffin

The Art of Playing in the Snow

Speech?

I wrote previously concerning the difficulty many people have with modern art. People do not know what they can or can not say. Many are afraid to have opinions. Yes, some of the artwork is to blame for that. But a trend in today's communication style is the real problem here.

What has happened to speaking with conviction? Why is it "uncool" to know what you are talking about or believe what you are saying? Why does it make us squirm to share a clear opinion or shift uncomfortably when someone has something to say and comes right out and just says it?

Watch this video:

Typography from Ronnie Bruce on Vimeo.
And let it inspire you to pay attention to your speech, pay attention to your beliefs, pay attention to your opinions. Become a real person, one who is worth listening to, worth talking to. Get rid of the fluff that makes up the perpetual see-saw of so many conversations.

Posts from a Spanish Diary: #7 A Cathedral

The castle town of Morella, only about a 40 minute drive from Masia Albadas (my home away from home in Spain), took my breath away. It is a gorgeous little town trickling down a hill with a combination of sandy colored stone structures towering at the top. There is a castle, a cathedral and a convent. The cathedral is still in use, the castle is being renovated and is frequented by tourists, and the convent is no longer active but also in renovations.

We begin here with the Cathedral in town. This catholic church, nestled below a castle of Muslim origin, has the typical Spanish blue dome and incredible doors. To give you a better idea of the setting, I found this picture (through Google!).

Though you may barely be able to see it, the blue dome of the cathedral is below the large rock plateau to the right. Look closely, it is there! The church is an amazing example of Gothic architecture, built in the 13th and 14th Centuries. It is dedicated to Saint Mary or, if you want the authentic name, "Iglesia Arciprestal de Santa María la Mayor." Seth took me to see some sights every once and a while, saying that it would be a shame if he didn't, and Morella was one of the first.

This is a view above the Cathedral, from the castle, looking down on the blue dome and the bell tower.
Seth and I happily realized that we happened upon a full Catholic wedding taking place! The whole church was lit, which I learned was quite the treat, seeing that a tourist might put one Euro in a 'vending machine' of sorts to see the inside with the lights on for a minute or so. The bride and groom were at the altar receiving their blessings and we were able to sit in on the service. Note the spiral staircase with ornate carving on the left. This leads to a choir loft, dating to the 15th Century, which is isolated and elevated, apparently one of the few examples in the world.

Sculptures dotted the ornate stone work along the elevated choir loft.

Posts from a Spanish Diary: #6 Doorways

I can't help but do an entire post devoted to doorways. In Spain I had to hold myself back from taking a photo of every doorway I saw. The wood was gorgeous, the carving ornate, the metal pounding was impressive, the shapes, the colors ... oh, it was endless. It was inspiring and some pretty cool prints may come out of my love for the Spanish doorway. Enjoy!

A Knight's Templar structure in Albocasser where Seth played in the band.

A local sitting in his wooden doorway in Morella, a local castle town.

The entryway to the National Ceramics Museum in Valencia. Jennie and I were in awe.

A small door to somewhere in the Cathedral of a town about 30 minutes away. I went to a local dancing "expo" there and took some time to wander the town.


Ok, a little different but still great! In Valencia, the doorways or grates covering stalls and stores were often painted. I love this one.

A tiny door on a hill in Villa Fames.

An incredibly old door in a local town.

A cathedral's back door in Valencia.

Oh just a town home/apartment entryway in Valencia.

A doorway in a local town.

Seth's entry to the courtyard. That is his Morris 8.

A newer doorway with matching window.

Note the stairs ... sideways so as to avoid being clipped by the cars on the narrow street.

One of many entry gates to the castle of Morella.

Seth in front of a local Cathedral's ornate doorway. Many were made like this, wood with bolts in patterns/pictures with thin metal pounded over it.

And of course, my balcony double doors! Oh how I miss them!