Weeds

"What is a weed?  A plant whose virtues have never been discovered."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

My creative process has been all topsy turvy this month.

Normally, I start out with an idea, "sketch" it out and translate it into clay.  Then I make and make and make and make until I run out of time with each iteration tweaked in little ... well subtle ... okay already! so slightly that I, the creator, can't typically find them.  It won't be until months later that I return to the form to make major updates to either the form or surface decoration based on customer reactions, actual sales and my own preferences after "living" with the series.  Wash, rinse, repeat until I get sick of making pieces in the series and move on.

Every creative person has some sort of process, usually strange to everyone else, that just works for them.  The above is mine or was mine until the past few weeks.

It started out innocently enough with a request.  A request for planters.

I've never made a planter before.  I've stuck plants in plastic pots into my pieces sure, but those weren't intentional planters by any stretch of the imagination.  I'm not even really an expert on what makes a good planter.  The person requesting them gave me suggestions that I couldn't see worked into planters.  I thought they might be too squat and dumpy.

So, what to do?  How to come up with a design?  I must confess that my typical process wasn't really working because usually I start with a more nebulous idea like stained glass or trees or scraps before I even contemplate form. I felt like I was running out of time to come up with an idea before my new class session started.

Then it hit me!  I'll be making demos for my class, there was no reason not to demo each technique on a planter form.  Two classes each meeting twice a week why I'd have planters coming out of my ears in no time!

Week one found me demonstrating a pinching technique, but my "planter" sides grew out bigger and bigger as I talked during the demo and walked around to help students with their own projects.  I realized it halfway through class just before I asked my students to come over to see how to smooth the inside that my planter had become a bowl.  A really great, super-sized mixing or salad bowl, but a bowl nonetheless.

 

Week two, I did better.  In demonstrating how to use slab strips as coils I found some simple shapes a rounded square, a circle and a triangle completed a nice trio of planter options.  I felt pretty good about the design and even got a few ideas of how to mix it up a bit to make them a little more my style.  Maybe draw a tree in some parts for interest, that kind of thing.

It wasn't quite right somehow though.  I still didn't seem able to simply slip into mass production mode of striped pots.  On a break between classes, I tried out a basket weave that I thought might be the ticket.

Week three found me demoing nesting bowls.  It really appeared ideal with the creation of multiple pots of the same design just ever smaller in size being produced.  My morning class demo came out pretty cute.  Drainage holes and feet added after the class left ruined my great fitting nesting efforts, but voila! three matching planters.

My evening nesting bowl demo I got, admittedly, too ambitious.  I decided to demo a unique way to make the foot part of the bowl, but while my resulting two bowls nested they aren't my favorites.  Ever hopeful, I added drainage holes just in case.

Week three's demos ended with cube luminaries.  Figuring that wasn't a good day to coax a planter out of a normally scrapped demo piece, I was surprised to be reminded of a wonderful shape and form that I was really excited about.  I think I might even end up making luminaries from this type of form as well.

The very next day, despite going to the studio to set-up more forest luminaries for carving I spent the first few hours I was there setting up cube shaped planters.  I've got eight total drying on my shelf as I write.  My new stained glass designs are right at home on them. 

Ninety-nine percent of my class demo pieces last session ended up in the trash.  Many were tossed into the clay reclaim bucket and never fired.  Some were fired to be used for glaze demos before being thrown out.  A few were actually glazed fired.  Two, only two, live on after my last class session.  One, a kinda ugly tile, decorates the women's bathroom at the studio and one, a sun dish was given to a friend.

As I take a look back through all of these pieces created to demo different techniques for my students that led me to a pretty interesting new form for my own work, I have to wonder how many of those tossed out demos from classes past had more potential than I credited them with owning.  I wonder how many I simply saw as weeds and didn't look further.

Unnerving

I'm on a journey.

It's a bit unnerving to tell you the truth.  I started this leg of my life somewhat unprepared for what was in store.  I had a grand idea.  I wanted to do something completely different with my life.  Shift my focus away from the corporate world.  Sell art.

Not that it was that easy.

I spent the first few months overcome with doubt.  So much doubt that I lost my way a little bit.  Panicked, I interviewed for several open positions that would take me back to my old life.  By the time I resurfaced and set my priorities I was in the midst of the holiday crunch.

I've learned a lot those first six months and I've learned even more this past year.  I suspect that this time in my life will teach me more than I've ever learned in the past.

It's a bit unnerving to tell you the truth.  Just when I think I've got the formula worked out.  When I feel good about the direction my art is taking, my application gets rejected.

Rejection feels like a knife stabbing you in the gut.  It's swift, it's sharp and it gets you right where you are most confident.  At least it does for me.

I trust my gut instincts more than I trust any thought rattling around in my head.

It's a bit unnerving to tell you the truth.  To move forward and wade through the feedback, at least there was feedback, provided to make improvements.  What does that mean?  I've been told the exact opposite by others.

ARGH!

I've come to grips, if you will, with this most recent rejection.  I've begun to process the feedback.  New ideas are in progress at the studio.  The part of me that hates to do the same thing over and over is loving all of the ideas drying, waiting to be bisque fired.

It's still a bit unnerving to tell you the truth.  I guess I need to get used to never being comfortable again. After all, I'm on a journey. 

Out of the Kiln - November 2012

The outcome of the latest round of color scheme tests for my stained glass series are out of the kiln this month.  Check them out below!

Darting Under the Eaves

When I told my mom that I was going to start teaching a handbuilding class a few months ago, one of the first things she said to me was that I would probably find all sorts of new ideas for my own work as a result.

Mom was right.

The other week found me demonstrating to my class how to create slab built mugs from their own paper templates.  The sample template I cut out was for a cone shaped mug with a waaaay too big opening at the wider end.  Oops!  Luckily I quickly thought of how to use the error as a discussion point about how they could refine their own templates when one of my students asked if they could "dart" their mug.

Darting in clay does exactly what it does in sewing.  Removes clay and creates a tapering of the piece just like darts do for skirts and shirts.  While it is a technique I'm familiar with I hadn't pulled it out of my tool bag for years until incorporating it into a class lesson on vases the prior week.

Since it had obviously stuck with my students as a cool process, I demonstrated what darting could do if used on my too wide cone.  I flipped it around to have the super wide end as the top and proceeded to add darts until the mouth was a more functional size and shape.

The class dispersed to start work on their own templates and mugs with my parting, "once you refine your templates keep them so you can make more later."

Good thing I took my own advice.

Just before the next class, I pulled out the template to re-make the mug again.  I wanted to re-demonstrate making and adding handles since my students' mugs had been a little too wet the previous class.  As I added darts to the mug, comparing placement to the original as I went, I was reminded of how much I liked the shape.

 

Those darted mugs seemed like they might be a finished design.  Little did I know they would stay in the back of my thoughts to re-emerge while I sat under the eaves at the Desert Art Center this past weekend.  

My view that day consisted of bunches of palm trees with haircuts.  At least that is what it looked like to me, trees with haircuts.  The dead palm fronds trimmed like split ends to prevent ragged ends of palm fronds from hanging down.  As I sat there pondering why landscapers hadn't just pulled off the dead fronds instead of giving them a trim, it hit me.

Trimming.  How could I incorporate this idea into my work?  My darted mugs popped back to the front of my mind.  I pulled out a pad of paper and started sketching some different options to trim (dart) mugs into interesting shapes.

So much for my "finished design."  I can't wait to try out some of these other thoughts to further develop my next mug series. 

At least the hard part is done thanks to my students and my palm tree view from under the eaves ... the title. Need you ask?  I'll call them Darting Under the Eaves, of course!

Phew! Is It Tea Time Yet?

September's week long madness, otherwise known as CRAFTfest, ended on Saturday.

All craft fairs are an experience with a capital "E" and CRAFTfest was no exception.

I meet interesting people both customers and fellow vendors from whom I gain advice and tips and suggestions.  Personally, I find all of it helpful.  It might be hard to believe, but I do truly find all of it value-added even if the offered words never find their way into my work or display.  Every word and comment is processed and incorporated or very thoughtfully not incorporated, but all of it leaves me in a better place as an artist, as an individual.

CRAFTfest certainly did all of these things for me, but it was different.  There was a true community among the stallholders that doesn't exist to the same extent at other events.  The success of this past week relied almost solely on the amount of time each of us was able to devote to social media and "other" media promotion.  A much more collaborative environment that I hope to take with me to other fairs this year.

I observe everything in a different way.  I don't know if I can explain it adequately, but I suspect that every person who has ever sold their services or art will understand immediately.  As you're setting up your display focus shifts from viewing your work through the eyes of creation to viewing it through the eyes of a buyer.  Potential customers never, and I truly mean never, see the same things you put into your work.  They have their own past experiences and filters.  It always delights me when they decide to share with me their "take."  This perspective shifting helps me refine my designs, color schemes and even launches new product ideas.

I missed this aspect during CRAFTfest.  Sure I got some comments on photos and in group forums, but absent the live interaction it felt strange.  I participated in an Art Walk in Claremont on Friday night and found myself hungrily engaging in those conversations I had been missing.

I work pretty hard.  It might not seem like it to the customer, but each art fair starts with going through current inventory to assemble the right mix for the event, double checking pricing, packing up my car, getting up really early to drive to the fair, unloading my car at the fair, setting up my display, fielding questions, selling, restocking, tearing down the display, repacking unsold work, repacking the car, driving home, unloading the car and finally putting unsold work back into inventory.  Phew!  Major run-on sentence there.

CRAFTfest seemed so appealing initially with the no getting up early in the morning and none of that loading and unloading were top of my "that's cool" list when I signed up.  It does seem like I worked just as hard, if not harder for this show though.  Taking pictures, listing inventory in my Etsy shop, uploading photos to my stall and all of the hours logged on social media.  It might not have been physically demanding, but there was definitely work involved.

I laugh and have fun.  This is without a doubt the best part of participating in art fairs, okay well aside from selling work, is how much fun it can be.  It is easy to forget sometimes amidst all of the work or when you're not getting many sales, but it is an absolute blast.

Thank you, thank you to all of my fellow stallholders for making me laugh throughout CRAFTfest from crazy computer glitches and "bum" comments to support on writing fancy HTML for stall descriptions to the mini Twitter vs. Facebook debate.

As CRAFTfest closes, I will be taking everything I've learned forward to my work and social media strategy today as well as to the next CRAFTfest in November.

To my fellow CRAFTfesters like Debbie from D&D Designs, I wish you all many sales as a result of all of the activity this past week.

Image Copyright D&D Designs

Houston, We've Gone Coral

Today I'm featuring the blogs and CRAFTfest stalls of some fellow members of the Coral Team.  Please take a few minutes to stop by and visit these wonderful artists.  Their work is simply great and each, in their own way, have provided inspiration to me for CRAFTfest and my work as well.  I hope they will for the rest of you too.

First, I'd like to feature Scarlet Wolf at The Crystal Cavern for awarding me with the "I love your blog" award.  Scarlet creates beautiful and truly unique jewelry for both men and women, so be sure to check out her blog and CRAFTfest stall.

The I Love Your Blog Award goes to Ana at Channelled Creations.

Ana creates some of the most positive and uplifting work!  Be sure to check out her CRAFTfest Stall.

 

Other absolutely wonderful members of the Coral Team to check out!

 

Sal at The Beaded Bounty

Sal leads the Coral Team and works tirelessly to ensure our whole team is set-up for success!  In addition to keeping us all in line, she finds time for her own jewelry creations as well!

Check out her work here and CRAFTfest stall here.

Ines at Little Creatures

Ines creates the cutest pieces out of polymer clay with all of them at tiny size, but big personality.

Check out her blog here and CRAFTfest stall here.

Helene at Chic n Trendy

Helene's style is all about nature, no wonder I love her work!  Don't miss her wonderful wreaths!

Check out her CRAFTfest stall here.

Hannah at Hannah Smith Stone

Hannah carves her designs out of rock to create sculptural objects, wall hangings and coasters.

Check out her CRAFTfest stall here.

So, there you have it, a little taste of the many, many finds available from the stalls of CRAFTfest.  I hope you will, like I did, find a little bit of inspiration as well as you visit each!

 

 Houston, We're Signing Off

A Foreign Land

Merely walking through the door of my neighborhood Home Depot tends to perplex and confound the most helpful sales associates.  I love Home Depot.  It is a completely strange and wondrous place.

I grew up with a father who always had some kind of woodworking project and a brother who is super mechanically inclined, however there is very little I know or understand about home improvement.  Don't take that statement to mean that I don't own power tools because I do.

I do own power tools.  That doesn't mean I really know how to use them.

Home Depot must have a checklist it hands out to its associates to identify people like me.  From their cautious approach when asking if I need assistance, it is clear that the label, "She has no idea what she's doing," is in block letters across my forehead.

Little do they know that I go to their store exactly because I have no idea what I'm doing.  I wander up and down every aisle.  Yep, that's right, every ... single ... aisle.

It isn't that I don't know what I'm trying to find be it a new display set-up or a texture tool or twine.

My "I need to buy this" thought isn't as fully formed as other shoppers at this popular home improvement store.  You see, I don't know walking into the store how my thought will translate into my purchase.  An item's intended purpose means little to me hence the wandering up and down every aisle.

"I'll know it when I see it," I routinely say to the more persistent sales associates.

I think that phrase strikes fear in their hearts.  I can just imagine them thinking, "God, she has no idea what she's doing.  I hope she doesn't wander over by the cutting station in lumber."

Of course, I do visit the cutting station.   The fifty-one cent bin is right across from it.  The scraps of wood in that bin are often the perfect size and shape.  Its the only place in the entire store I can find without help.

 

I've always been a tourist.  In fact, I've always been the kind of tourist that everyone hates with hundreds of pictures when just a few would do.  My tourist tendencies are totally paying off these days.

"Oooo, look at that" is a great mentality to have when seeking artistic inspiration.

I highly recommend clearing out any preconceived notions and taking a little tourist jaunt to a "foreign land" for yourself.  You might, okay you will get a few strange looks, but you just might learn something.  Don't worry I won't tell anyone if you take pictures.

A Rose By Any Other Name

What's in a name? that which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet;

So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,

Retain that dear perfection which he owes

Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,

And for that name which is no part of thee

Take all myself.

-Juliet, From Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet

What's in a name?  Or really, what's in a title?  That is the question I've been asking myself lately.

I tend to "title," and I use that word loosely here, my pieces descriptively.  This piece is part of the series inspired by [insert inspiration here], is a [bowl, platter, ?] and is green or some other color.

Does this tell you, my fans, anything about the piece?  Sure, it gives you a factual description.  What you see is what you get kind of thing.

Recently, I've had the pleasure of being introduced to the work of Shannan and Jacqueline from Ellorias Boutique.  They are the creators of wonderful jewelry as you can see from the necklace below.

Photo courtesy of and copyrighted by Ellorias Boutique

Shannan and Jacqueline, like many artists, title their work.  This necklace, for example, is the Sapphira Necklace.  The thing that stuck me most when I first encountered this piece, other than how beautiful it is, was the title.  Why the Sapphira Necklace?  I searched the description for a clue to learn that the this necklace features beads handcrafted to reflect botanical DNA structures ... yet no mention of Sapphira.

Exploring the rest of their work online, I believe that Shannan and Jacqueline have series of pieces similar to me.  They give those series titles, but the titles they choose are typically based on a female name and are wrapped in mystery.  At least they are to me.  I have absolutely no idea why or how the name Sapphira is linked to this particular design series.  I even looked up Sapphira on Wikipedia I was so intrigued with little to aid my deduction efforts.

How different an approach to naming than I use.  When I title a series it is with a fairly straightforward name like "Stained Glass Inspired" or "Mad Hatter Inspired" or simply "Tree."

 

Descriptive and informative, yet nothing to whet the imagination of my customers.  No mystery.  My inspiration is front and center.

 

Nothing to allow you, interacting with my work, to pause and maybe wonder ... to apply your own thoughts and interpretations.

 

I'm tempted to tell myself that I should follow Juliet's advice that no thing or person is improved or made better by a name.

 

Yet I find that I much prefer the approach of Ellorias Boutique.  They have left me to wonder and fill in the blanks for myself with their title.  Is it just a name they like?  Does the story of Sapphira I found on Wikipedia somehow tie in?  I don't know.

 

I've seen customers interact with my work at art shows where there is no description or title box handy ... just space, glorious space to apply their own experiences and perceptions to the piece.

Sorry Juliet, but I think I need to re-do my titles.

Ellorias Boutique is just one of many vendors participating in September's CRAFTfest.  Be sure to check out their stall!

I've Learned

My formal ceramics training is sparse.  I don't have a degree in fine arts, although I did get introduced to the medium during three classes I took during college.  In addition to those three semesters, I have a ton of independent studio classes under my belt.  I like to think I have a decent foundation on which to work with clay as a medium.

I've learned.  Everyday I learn new things about working in clay.

Sometimes these lessons come from my own experimental nature ... I wonder what would happen if I do this.  Now I have a new foot for some of my bowls that is the envy of others in the studio.  I've already been asked if they could do something similar.  Hmmm ... wonder if I could get royalties out of that?

Sometimes they come from a passerby in the studio watching me work.  The questions, "I thought you have to cut the bottom a little bigger when hand building?"  "Nope, you don't."  I tell an amazed student who you know always secretly knew it was true all the while realizing that it certainly is better to cut it bigger for certain forms.

Sometimes they come about from someone who works in clay with even less formal training than me.  A fellow studio member, who is basically self-taught, mentioned to me one day that the bowl design they were working on that day was great to use up scraps.

I didn't say anything out loud, but scraps?  I looked and she had a whole collection of partial slab pieces in various sizes and shapes waiting to be used.  Just as I was wondering why she doesn't just wedge them, she asked me, "What do you do with your scraps?"  I replied, "I wedge them together."  "Oh, I don't know how to wedge," she replied.

It was, I've got to admit, a really thought provoking conversation.  In both of our minds, the obvious solution to the same problem was so radically different and yet, really, neither solution was wrong.  Why couldn't she approach the problem of scraps by creating something completely different and unique?  Why couldn't she use the opportunity to try out a different idea?  Test a few glazes?  To create a piece for fun?

Recently, I received some clay samples to try out.  The clay samples were, to be blunt, small.  There wasn't much I could do with them.  I decided to make some hearts, little decorative ornaments, out of samples, but as I cut out wonky and fun shaped hearts I found myself with these scraps of clay.  Too small to re-wedge, too small at this point to do anything with I thought.  Then I remembered.

I started adding them in crazy patterns to the hearts.  Some of the designs are definitely abstract, but some I like to think look like faces.  I have always made hearts or pendants when I wanted to take a little break from my more involved pieces, but these made with scraps hearts I think just might be my favorites.

 

Stopped In My Tracks

It started as one of the worst weeks ever.  My car had been hiccuping for a few weeks and then the dreaded check engine light came on.  There was really nothing else to do except take it in to the mechanic.

Monday afternoon the mechanic shared the first inkling of truly bad news.  He thought there was a problem with my transmission, but he wanted to have his transmission guy take a look at the next day.

Tuesday turned the drizzle into a storm.  My car needed its transmission rebuilt.  It would take a few days and just a little bit of money.  I could already hear my bank account groaning at what was "a little bit of money."

Wednesday I hitched a ride to the studio from a friend who works nearby.  She starts work earlier than the studio opens, so I decided to treat myself to a leisurely breakfast.  As I was walking from the restaurant to the studio, I noticed something I had never really noticed before an old church down the street.

I have always loved churches and religious artifacts.  I'm even really sure I can explain why.  More spiritual than religious yet the symbols of organized religion have always drawn me, so I walked closer.  I noticed the peeling paint, the general air of slow decay despite it being an active church, but what really struck me were the windows.  The intricate patterns, different colors and designs.

Now I've seen stained glass windows before, but this was the first time I'd thought about the concept in relation to my art work.  These windows had just been a wonderful piece of art among many works of art in a particular church.  Certainly senses dazzling when the sun hits, but simply another part of the church going experience.

I walked all the way around the outside of the building, gone are the days when churches are left unlocked, taking pictures of the windows.  From the outside, not backlit, their colors are not dazzling, but I could still see the possibilities.

I walked the rest of the way to the studio with my head full of ideas on how to acheive the effect in clay. The very first thing I did when I got to the studio?  Started on what would be the first in a series of work inspired by the stained glass windows of a church that was put in my way.

Weeks, and tons of super positive feedback, later I have to wonder.  Did my car breakdown because that's what cars do?  It is an older model and was probably due for some transmission work.  Did it breakdown to trigger the chain of events leading me to the inspiration for my latest series?  I do know that I would probably have never noticed that church.

It does make me wonder and I am appreciative of the possibility of truly wondrous occurrences in my daily life.  Sometimes they are easy to spot.  Sometimes the universe steps in and stops us in our tracks to pull back the blinders of our routines to amaze us.  I could have done without the mechanics' bill though.

The Bacon Barrel Bowl

Every once in awhile you're presented with a proposition that is just too good to pass up.  One such opportunity was presented to me the other week at the studio.

Heidi, our Studio Manager, walked over with a box of Cone 5 clay samples and gave them to me.  There were about 15 to 20 tiny slabs of all different types of clay in the box.

"I thought you could try them out since you have been doing Cone 5 firing and like to use red clay bodies," she said, as she set the box down on the table.


I'm never one to turn down free clay, but I do admit to finding some humor in the situation.  While it is true that I have experimented a little with firing at Cone 5 (cone number is used to designate kiln firing temperature) recently, I fire the vast majority of my work at Cone 10.  The studio member who fires almost exclusively at Cone 5 was sitting feet away during this conversation.  She was not given any clay samples.

As I started to pull out the samples, each approximately 1/4 lb., I noticed that there were only one or two samples per clay body not enough to construct a big piece.  Picking two clay bodies at random, I rolled them out and created strips of clay that I slipped and scored together in an alternating pattern ... strip of slightly darker clay, strip of slightly lighter clay, etc.

Just was I was thinking of turning my striped slab into a bowl, Heidi walked by and pronounced, "It looks like bacon."  Well, what could be better than than?  A Bacon Bowl.  Perfect!  Who wouldn't want a bacon bowl?

I was draping the slab over a mold to create the bowl shape when I noticed the extra strips of clay.  Hmmm ... it might be a good idea to use a couple on the bottom to give the assembled strips a little extra support.  When I was figuring out the best place for the strips I noticed something really cool.  The rough edges of my slab, the alternating clay bodies and the extra strip to the bottom made it look just like a barrel!

Bacon Bowl?  Barrel Bowl?  I'll let you be the judge.

I'm still waiting for this piece to be bisque fired and comtemplating glaze options.  I'm going back and forth between no glaze and clear right now.  Will I make more?  Who knows?  Might be a winner.  For now I'm on to the next experiment with these clay samples.  : )

A Winding Road

The journey started one day when I was pondering the theme of Assemblage, Collage and Recycle for an upcoming Redlands Art Association members show.  As a ceramic artist, it wasn’t immediately apparent what I should submit for display during this upcoming show.  Sure, my current work was technically “assembled” during the hand-building process and as a group ceramicists are good about re-wedging and recycling their clay scraps, but neither of those two factors really sat well with me for justifying entering pieces I had in inventory to the show.

I decided to take a quick break from the studio and walk over to a nearby café to pick up something for lunch to clear my head.  It was walking back that it hit me.  A solution, not perfect, but it would be something interesting and it would qualify as a mixed media assemblage piece.

Waffle-weave bowls with fabric woven through and knotted to create a design on the inside of the bowl.  The bottom of the bowl would have all of the rough ends and edges of the fabric sticking out in every direction and add an interesting dimension to the piece.  I had no idea if it would work.  Could I take the image in my head and translate it?  I figured, what the heck, it was worth a shot.  That afternoon I made several waffle-weave bowls and left them to set-up for firing.

Weeks passed and I started to pull together fabric scraps and ideas on designs for the bowls.

In the meantime, I learned about an event in Redlands called Celebrate Citrus.  It is put on annually by the Inland Orange Conservancy (IOC) to raise money to support local citrus growers.  The event organizers were looking for artists to display any citrus-inspired pieces at the event with 15% of any sales going to support the IOC.  I’m well aware of the struggles the local growers have in my area and it was free to participate, so I signed up!

Close to home, exposure opportunity … Great idea, right?  Well, I’ve never used citrus related ideas in any of my pieces.  I spent a little bit of time brainstorming orange peel textured mugs, orange slice bowls and nothing spoke to me.  Instead, I decided to pull some older pieces, wheel-thrown bowls, out of storage and present them as fruit bowls.  It seemed like a decent solution, but I wasn’t convinced.

As the event neared, the waffle-weave bowls also finished the glaze firing process.  They were sitting on the floor in my workroom, spread out and waiting for me to dazzle them with fabric.  That’s when it hit me; they were even more perfect fruit bowls!  Due to the holes in the design, the fruit would get good air flow and they were a nice, big size to hold lots of fruit.

What about my assemblage plans?  I figured, the Celebrate Citrus event was more about exposure than sales especially since the focus would be on the orange groves, so I’d have them back to add fabric with no problem.

Best laid plans and all … the waffle-weave bowls sold out that day along with a few of the smaller wheel-thrown bowls.  I ended up winging the assemblage show with tiles on fabric hangers … sort of in theme, but not really.  I’ve since given up on my grand fabric design ideas.  It certainly was a twisty, winding journey on the inspiration for waffle-weave fruit bowls, but people seem to like them

THE BIGGEST BOWL EVER!!!

Remember when art was play?  There were no critics, no customers, no technical skills, no inner voice all asking, "Is it art?"  It was art and it was beautiful.

I was reminded of this recently by a little girl named Megan who takes ceramic classes at the studio where I do my work.  Megan is a fireball of energy and never fails to wear out the studio manager, Heidi, while making the rest of us laugh out loud.

One day during her class session, Megan pulled me into helping Heidi and her create the BIGGEST BOWL EVER!  How do you make the biggest bowl ever, you ask?  Simple:

1. Start out by throwing around 10 to 15 pound pugged clay tubes, otherwise known as wedging to my fellow ceramic artists!
2. Take all of your "wedged" clay and ready it to be rolled by the slab roller.  You'll need at least five or six of the above mentioned tubes of clay.
3. Roll out, what else, but the BIGGEST SLAB EVER!  Muscle strength builder alert.
4. Ignore the "What are they thinking" looks from people walking by ... they're just jealous.
5. Carefully move your slab to the floor and decorate.  We dumped whole globs of slip, used our hands and show patterns.
6. Mold ... SCREECH ...Eh, okay this is where it all fell apart ...

For the non-ceramic artists out there, the laws of clay are pretty hard to bend to your will especially when trying to manipulate an absolutely huge slab of clay that is a little too wet.  Did we let the ruin of our slab stop us?  Nope, I don't think Megan could even be stopped by a freight train!  We turned our failed bowl into a dinner set.  Yes, that's right, a dinner set of platters, bowls, etc of all shapes and sizes.  Trees were drawn on the bottoms to create a unifying theme.

It took several hours and multiple days to clean up from the project.   The jeans I wore that day will never be the same and my perception of art probably won't be either.  For those few hours we were no longer listening to all the voices telling us what art was supposed to be and simply MADE ART.  Was it good?  Nope, it was great!  But was it art?  Yes, yes it was!

My piece of the BIGGEST BOWL EVER!  (Bottom and inside of platter)

Lemonade?

I have the wonderful pleasure of being a member at AMOCA's (American Museum of Ceramic Art) new ceramic studio.  It is a great space for me to create my work and there is never a shortage of feedback from other members and artists.  A new tradition has been started by the studio to hold a potluck during Pomona's 2nd Saturday Art Walk.  People can stop by, try their hand at clay, eat food and just absorb the positive energy of the studio community.

This past Saturday found me at the most recent potluck trying my hand at wheel throwing bowls after a few glasses of wine.  Those of you who have seen my work know that I've been focusing recently on hand building techniques, so the combination of red wine and less recent practice wheel throwing produced some interesting results.

My bowls (not all of them even survived to be pictured!) turned out a little warped, off-center and not quite as perfectly round as one attempts to achieve when throwing.  So, I decided to "fix" them.  The first couple I squared-off the corners to disguise the warping.  However, when I went to do the same for the third bowl I kind of tore the newly formed corner.

Never fear!  I "fixed" it!  The quotes are added since my fellow studio members got a huge kick out of my continued attempts to save each piece.  There is much debate about what the shape on the third bowl is ... a beak said one person ... some of the other suggestions are probably not fit to print!  I'll let you make up your own mind about what it might be.  I have no idea, so feel free to let me know your thoughts!

All of my efforts remind me now of the phrase:  "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."  Not so sure if I was successful creating lemonade, but all this "fixing" ahem altering, sounds more intentional doesn't it, has given me some ideas to take back to a hand building series I've been working on.  Hmm ... maybe I'll make lemonade yet.

Like No One Is Watching

dance

as though no one is watching you,

love

as though you have never been hurt before,

sing

as though no one can hear you,

live

as though heaven is on earth.

- souza

This has always been my favorite quote.  It reminds me that I shouldn't get caught up in what I or others think is right, but to focus instead on what brings me joy.  The fact that I often dance in my living room and hope, okay pray, that no one is watching has little to do with it!

There is a certain freedom that comes from connecting to your body and expressing that connection through dance.  I especially love to twirl.  The spinning around and around, faster and faster until I get so dizzy I'm almost sick brings me back to the carefree mindset of childhood better than anything else.  I find that I am not alone in the joy and inspiration I get from dance.

I was recently introduced to a photographer, Jillian Milam, who was a dancer in her former life and still loves the grace and effortlessness that dancers bring to movement.  Her recent fine art photograph entitled Dance Like You Mean It (http://www.etsy.com/listing/77858962/dance-like-you-mean-it-8x12-fine-art ) absolutely captures my sentiments about dancing.  Jillian got into photography during grade school and has been capturing the world on film ever since.  You can see her passion for photography yourself online at http://www.etsy.com/shop/JilleinPhotography.

So, take a page from two Jillians this week!  Find some music that you absolutely love.  You know those songs that you can't help dancing discretely to in your chair!  Blast it over your iPod speakers, or if you're technologically challenged like me over your boom box, clear some space and let loose in your living room.  You just might find a little bit of joy, a little bit of freedom and some artistic inspiration.

Don't worry!  Even if someone does happen to see you their laughter just means they were caught up in your passion for life!

Twist of Fate

Recently I had the pleasure of being introduced to the work of Liz Tylecki-Kuniej.  She has fallen into her art, metalsmithing, through a wonderful twist of fate and the source of her inspiration.  If every individual could be so blessed as to find their true passion in a similar way.

As I sat down to recount Liz's story for you, I found myself returning to her words and descriptions.  Her passion for her work simply leaps off the page, so I'd like to share with you here her journey in her own words.  I'm sure you'll find as I did that any attempt to tell the story differently would have been a poor man's version!

What is the piece or series of work you feel most connected to?

Liz:  Most definitely my sea turtle designs. The first two pieces I ever created were the swirl turtle necklace: www.etsy.com/listing/58644411/necklace-sea-turtle-totem-sterling and the bezel set turtle: www.etsy.com/listing/60312919/necklace-sea-turtle-larimar-sterling.  Both carved out of wax, and it took me months to do each piece but it was worth it. I had no idea at the time that I would become a fulltime metalsmith when I carved those two little turtles. I was just so inspired by the history,beauty and grace of sea turtles and wanted to create something tangible from that feeling.

What was your inspiration for this piece or series?

Liz:  Sea turtles have been around for over 150 million years. The first sea turtle was literally a dinosaur! But because of human interference their numbers have dwindled to where they've become critically endangered. A few years before I decided to move to the island of St. Croix and work in conservation, I swam with a beautiful green turtle in Hawaii. She taught me something that day. The way she moved with the current instead of trying to fight it. She was so peaceful and yet so powerful, and the whole experience had a huge impact on me. It actually changed the way I viewed life and it was that experience that started a snowball effect which brought me out of my cubicle in NY City and to the caribbean islands with a newfound passion and purpose in life. Since then I have been volunteering every year with various sea turtle conservation programs, trying to at least do a small part to hopefully put back a little bit of what we have destroyed. Being out on the beach working wi th these goreous, ancient creatures has fed my soul more than I could ever express.

They inspire not only my art, but my existence as a whole.

How did you get started on creating your art?

Liz:  The whole jewelry endevour started with beading for me. I used to make beaded and braided hemp turtle necklaces. I purchased the "focal" turtle beads and I would make various designs of weaved and braided hemp styles~chokers, necklaces, anklets~ very earthy stuff. I had an awesome boss who let me sell some of my work out of his shop, which I was working at part time. One day a friend of his (who is a full time metalsmith) walked into the shop and asked who made the turtle jewelry. When he found out it was me he approached me and literally dared me to try to make my own turtle carvings. He told me where to buy a wax kit and what tools I needed and said he'd come back in a month to see what I'd come up with! Well, I was never one to turn down a dare so I did it! Granted, it took me a lot longer than a month, but when he came back he was so impressed he invited me to come watch him work at his bench. He taught me some of the basics of metalsmithing and casting, and I was immediately hooked!

My wonderful boss allowed me to start selling my metal creations in the shop, and it did so well that I ended up picking up several more wholesale and consignment accounts all over the island. I started doing the local art shows, and eventually began to set up my shop along the pier where the cruiseships pulled in. After working the cruiseship circuit for about 6 months I realized that this was becoming a full time job, and I quit my day job! I am forever grateful to my boss, and his friend for getting me started. Without them, I know I would not be here.

My bosses friend, the metalsmith, is now one of my best friends. He was the one who suggested I come check out Etsy, as he thought my work would fit right in. And that's how I ended up here.~

I feel so blessed to be where I am at, and try to remember to be thankful every single day. And for me, that means stepping outside of myself to help others whenever I can.~

Liz regularly donates her work to various charities to support fundraising efforts.  Most recently she has been invovled with the American Cancer Society, SUDS (Soliders Undertaking Disabled SCUBA) and the Queen Louise Home for Children in addition to ocean conservation programs.

To see all of Liz's work online please visit her Etsy Shop at http://www.etsy.com/shop/fantaseajewelry
 

Surrender and Breathe

My inspiration comes from many places … a conversation, something that happens to me, nature, the list goes on.  However, it wasn’t always this way.  I used to fight, or more accurately, suppress my sources of inspiration.  I thought that I had to stick to the tried and true types of work that I had always done.  It had to be perfect and even more it had to conform to what I thought it should be.  Unaware, I had stifled the best of myself.

I have worked in clay off and on for years and have recently returned to it.  The first day I sat down to get back into throwing pieces on the wheel, the universe pushed back hard on me.  Of course, I didn’t know it at the time that the universe was rebelling against the picture I had created in my mind of what my art should be … I just thought that I was having an “off” throwing day.

I decided to take a break and hand-build some pieces for fun based on a concept that had been swirling in my head ever since a conversation with a friend.  You know, one of those “wouldn’t it be cool if …” discussions.  I figured I’d clear my head and get back to throwing the next time I was in the studio.  I lost myself in the creative process.

The next time in the studio, I found myself hand-building again.  No urge to start at the wheel to “get back in the saddle,” so to speak.  As the days in the studio continued and translation of my ideas stopped taking place on the potter’s wheel something wonderful started to happen.  My work has taken a turn into something infinitely more personal, more meaningful and more unique than previously.  I’ve become more aware of my inspiration sources and the ideas flow more freely than before.  I’ve always “said” that I am an experimenter, however it is now fact.

A few days ago I found myself telling a friend that I needed to re-do the online presence for my art.  As I struggled to explain what I just somehow knew was right, a lightning bolt went through me … I had changed.  I had found my true self and the expression of that self in my work.  The realization of how I had suppressed this true self all these years became evident.  Those pieces that I created and loved the most over time were those that had managed to sneak through my unconscious suppression.

My yoga teacher always says in class that we need to just surrender and breathe.  I feel like for the first time I have truly applied that concept outside of my yoga practice.  Words cannot express how amazed and grateful I am for the results.

Namaste