A List in INGs

I love lists.  They're like an archeological dig of what's going on in your life.  (Especially old ones found in the bottom of handbags, or tucked between the pages of a forgotten book.)  This happy list has been making its rounds on some lovely blogs I follow, like Kathryn Mitchell Ceramics and Pip Lincolne, and I thought I'd give it a whirl.

Making : Rectangular platters with inlay.

Seeking this one out at the PPL.

Cooking : Gazpacho.
Drinking : Grumpy Monkey coffee (Holla, Small World.)
Reading: Sweet Tooth by Ian McEwan.
Wanting: More TIME.
Looking: Pinterest, you saucy minx.
Playing: Too much solitaire on my iPhone.
Wasting: Beautiful heirloom tomatoes from our CSA share, but a girl can only eat so many tomatoes.
Sewing: Nada.
Wishing: For the colors and cool of fall.
Enjoying: Middle of the summer day hugs from my boys.
Waiting: For lightning to strike never works.
Liking: The quiet of the house before everyone else wakes.
Wondering: If I will ever finish this manuscript.
Loving: My David.
Marvelling: That there's always another idea in my head.
Needing: A good source for handmade, round wood boxes.  Don't ask.
Smelling: Aforementioned coffee.
Wearing: New ikat t-shirt, navy and white.
Following: My heart.
Noticing: Color combinations: gray and yellow, lilac and white.
Knowing: I just need to keep at it.
Thinking: All the time.  Way too much.  And somehow not enough.
Bookmarking: Indie bridal websites for work inspiration.
Opening: Happy thank you note from friend.
Giggling: Everyday, with these boys of mine.
Feeling: Blessed.

Take A Penny, Leave A Penny

Today I decided to ask myself a question that I ask other people when I feel they’re struggling:

“What’s going on that you’re not telling me?”

That sentence is usually all that’s needed for a troubled friend to let go of what is causing her brow to knit together, or to “unclog” my teenaged son. (Okay, I might have to ask him MORE than once to get him to talk, but he’ll get there...)

They need a penny.

We all know and love that little dish full of pennies next to a cash register. It’s usually under a sign that reads something like: “Take a Penny, Leave a Penny.”  You go to buy a sandwich at Wawa and it comes to $4.99, so you leave a penny. Or it’s $5.01, and you take a penny. So when my friend or son or sometimes even the lady behind me in the grocery store checkout line, hesitates before they continue: I have said more than once: “You know, sometimes you leave a penny in the dish, and sometimes you need to take one out. Maybe right now you need one?”

It's that permission to take what you need.  That's all.  And for someone to recognize that you're not being selfish by asking for what you need.

That furrow between my brow has dug in pretty well over this past year. I’ve been doling out a lot of pennies. Many people needed change, and I’ve been happy to empty my pockets, felt helpful. But for the past couple of months, I’ve only got big bills.

In other words, I’ve needed a penny.

This summer, I’ve mostly broken free from social media: from FB, from Blogger, from my website, Pinterest, Etsy. Hearing about all the doings by busy, vital, productive artists (and other nice folks) has, in the past, been uplifting to me, but of late, has been sort of bumming me out, so I unplugged. Email has been at a sort of minimum.  Haven’t taken on any new projects, signed up for any shows, written much, including this blog. I’ve kinda gone dark. Let it be. I’ve picnicked with my boys, gone on bike rides, watched them swim, made cakes, got beaten at Rummy, folded clean clothes with pride, cleaned out closets. I’ve been reading books, instead of trying to write one. I’ve been going to see pots in museums, not making them. I’ve been sketching ideas, not enacting them.

But that’s okay. Sometimes you need a penny.

Has any of you ever needed a penny? Or know someone who does? Time to check those pockets...I’m know I’m starting to hear a jingle in my jeans again. :)

Torn Between Two Lovers

POTTERY VERSUS WRITING

My two boyfriends are tired of sharing.  (No, not like that.  My husband knows he's my one and only.  23 years together should have ironed out any questions by now.)

Pottery.  Writing.  There is a duel on the horizon.  Pistols are drawn.  I'm not sure I have much to say about the outcome.  Even as we speak, I am writing this blog, with the current issue Ceramics Monthly flipped open, right next to the computer.  (BTW, there's an article on Brian R. Jones in there.  With an articulate, honest take on what life is like for a full-time potter.  See?  I can't stop myself.)

In the past, I have been a sort of all-or-nothing sort of girl.  Not a big problem until these two boyfriends came to woo me.  Now what?  What am I?

Am I a writer?

Am I potter?

This blog was a way to combine the two.  So it was settled: I am a potter who writes.

Then I wrote a play.  And started a novel.  Now I'm halfway through writing a novel.  So okay: I am a writer.

So I just got another ceramics commission - a large job. And there are these big framed pieces I want to make.  Yep, you guessed it: I am a potter.

These loves of mine are both handsome.  They are both good kissers.  But I'm fickle.  I can't decide between the two.  So, starting today, guess what?  I'm not going to.  I'm going to date both of them and I'm going to let them worry about it.  They'll have to fight it out.

I am going to wake up every morning and check to see who won my hand for the day.  And I'll be a very good, loyal girlfriend.  For the day.

Noticing the Blessings

Being so busy over the last three weeks, getting ready for a couple of shows, my "noticer" went on hiatus.  But I was grateful that it popped right back into action today when I had time to slow down.  Here's a list of a few of blessings that today brought.

• My young son's socked foot always finds another socked foot under the kitchen table.  It's an egalitarian foot; it doesn't care whom it belongs to.

• My husband brings me flowers on a pretty regular basis.  Carries them all the way home on the train. (Yes.  I know how lucky I am. Totally.)  I love seeing what colors he picks for me and that they're wrapped in crackle-y deli paper.

• My older son cracking jokes and the whole family laughing.

• My jeans fit okay.  (Yes.  This is a blessing.  It doesn't rank with like world peace or something, but it ranks.)

• Reading for an hour in the green armchair, on this rainy day, with several rounds of tea in my favorite fat mug.

• A fridge full of healthy food.

• Walking with my friend.

• Pink flowering cherry trees and bright yellow forsythia layering their colors in my front yard.

• A new gold Sharpie.

• Cracking a glazed kiln load, and seeing bright, shiny pieces staring back up at me.

What did YOU notice today?  What made you feel lucky?

COMMUNIVERSITY 2013!!!

It's ART.  FOOD.  MUSIC.  CRAFT.  PERFORMERS.  HOOPLA.

It's PRINCETON at its biggest, baddest, loudest, fun-nest best.

Come be part of the fun and visit me on Witherspoon Street, near Agricola Restaurant. Click HERE for all the details.

And then join me back here tomorrow for a nap.

The Construction of "Delft, Reconstructed"

If you've been following me, you know that I've been TRYING to take a break from claywork these last few months, to concentrate on writing. But hard as I've tried, that damneddeliciousfrustratingwonderful clay pulls me back in. The piece that did it? Delft, Reconstructed - for the Tombola at Pinot to Picasso, one of the Arts Council of Princeton's yearly fundraisers.


I thought it might be interesting to capture my thought process from a piece's beginning, middle and end. So here we go: hang in there. I have learned that my "flow" is not linear. It's kind of a rabbit hole, but I've learned to go where it leads me.

1. I see a promo postcard from the Times Discovery Museum in NYC, advertising the exhibit of the Terracotta Warriors. (Short history: In 1974, Chinese farmers start digging a well and instead come up with an army of nine THOUSAND clay soldiers, horses, figures, depicting the armies of Qin Shi Huang, the first Emperor in China (210-209 BC). Their purpose was to protect the emperor in his afterlife.)

2.  Become a little obsessed with the AMAZING tiled stone armor detail on the soldiers.

3. Start thinking more about soldiers and armies, which are such male-dominated things, aggressive things. And, long ago, when it was just men out on the battlefield, the women were left behind with all the rest of life. It got me to thinking about mothers, and how they're also soldiers, in a way. Soldiers for their children and families. Domestic soldiers.

4. Question: How I could interpret armor in a more feminine, domestic and modern way?

5. Think about ceramic items used in everyday domestic life, like vases, mugs, plates.

6. Think about the idea of excavating a life, about archeological digs and the pieces of domestic things that are found.

7. See an old piece of blue and white Delft pottery at the Tomato Factory.

8. CLICK. Start creating my own modern interpretation of Delft pottery/female armor. Create tiny tiles and begin stitching a modern, rectangular shape with silver thread. Decide a softer, feminine addition is needed, to contrast against the hardness of the pottery, and add orange thread and tiny gold glass beads.

Mounting and framing this piece was a logistical challenge, but I found it strangely satisfying when I finally got it done.  I was happy to complete this piece but sad to see it go.  If you're local and have a chance, Delft, Reconstructed is now hanging in the ground floor gallery, along with so many wonderful pieces from talented local artists - get thee to the Arts Council!

Stop Waiting for Lightning to Strike

I used to wait for inspiration to strike.

I also used to believe in the Easter Bunny.

I mean, who doesn't want to believe that some magical benevolence hops into your life and deposits chocolate and the BIG idea, right into your basket?  No work, no money to exchange hands, no sweat?  It would be the greatest thing ever.  And sooooo much easier than the reality.

It's not to say that once in a great while, lightning doesn't strike.  There are those times, like winning lotteries and a good parking space in downtown Princeton on a Friday night.  There are genius ideas that come in dreams.  But it's lightning.  And how long do you have to wait in between strikes, or for it to strike at all?   Answer: Usually a LONG ASS TIME.

So.  What to do.

I have the answer.  I'm not gonna lie to you: it's not glamorous, or even that appealing.  You ready?  Here it is:

STOP WISHING.  START DOING.

Start writing.  Start painting.  Start making.  Start creating.  Every day.  When you're tired.  When you have a headache.  Upside down.  In your jammies.  Uncaffeinated.  Super-caffeinated.  When the kids are fighting.  And especially, when you don't want to.  The most important time to do it is when you find yourself sighing, or cursing, at the screen, at the canvas, at the block of clay.  I hate this, you'll think.  Why am I doing this?  I have not one whiff of an idea in my head.

I'm not gonna lie; I've made a lot of crap and written a LOT of crap.  Mountains of it, truth be told.  But when I look back on it all, even the crap has something to say.  It gives me a record of where I've been, what I was thinking, roads I don't want to take.  But often, I find a kernel, a path, an idea, somewhere to go or explore.  There is value in all of it.

Creating something from nothing is a really hard thing.  Really hard.  It's a skill and a skill takes time, and practice.  Lots of practice.  It's hard work. But I think it's where the lightning lives.

"Inspiration is the windfall from hard work and focus.  

Muses are too unreliable to keep on the payroll."  

-- Helen Hanson