Home studio update.

If you know me beyond the words I post on this blog - then you probably know one of my big "near-future" goals is creating a home studio space. That goal became much more tangible when I received my first wheel from a dear friend and pottery mentor last year. 

Since then, I've been studying up and consulting the experts on what I need to do to convert my garage into a home studio. But there are several caveats that add a layer of complexity to this game plan: 

1. I currently rent the home I am living in. 

2. I have no desire or intention to purchase this home. 

3. The owner of the property will likely not want me to make any changes to the current garage: i.e. adding a utility sink, or adding any modifications to this fairly older property. 

4. I plan on changing residence in the near future, to my own home - which will be selected based on the ability to convert a utility room to a home studio. 

Knowing all of these things, I came to a rather undesirable conclusion. In order to have a home studio, today, I'd have to create a very barebones studio/garage environment. Specifically, that means, a three bucket water maintenance system (a lot of work each and every time I set up/break down from a session), clearing out the few (but necessary) items I currently store in the garage, battling Austin winters and horrendous summers in a VERY drafty space with no insulation around the garage door, and then finally? Dealing with the general creepiness of my garage, in general. 

The three bucket system is a requirement in order to save myself from a plumbing nightmare. The clays I use are non-toxic, so I don't have to worry about poisoning my environment when it's time to dump the water/silt. However, I will likely kill some grass...and I'm not especially excited to do that, either. With all that said, if I worked around all the hurdles and came up with a solution that made all of my side issues go away - I still come to this. 

I may be moving at some point this year, or the very beginning of next. Whatever I come up with...would be a temporary solution until I can get into a space I'm ready to call my own.

All of this weighed heavy on my mind this weekend until I found out a convenient and timely alternative: 

My learning studio is willing to rent me space. A nominal monthly fee, and I get my own private space to store my wheel and shelving. Access to all the amenities the studio provides including: working utility sinks, access to the kilns and glazes. This also helps me stagger my next big acquisition - a kiln. 

I can rent space there, continue my house hunting at a leisurely pace and most importantly...create on a regular basis. Mind you, it's not as convenient as walking into the garage and going for it...but it's close enough that I don't have to feel like it's an inconvenient commute. 

Hopefully, I can move into the studio in the next few months. 

Stay tuned. 

Glaze Play 2012: Sponge Stamping and Texture.

Photo Courtesy of: Flickr/luisillusionThis year, I want to tamp down my tendency to try and make 50-wowsand different things, and focus on honing two things I enjoy, but don't use enough - stamping and texture. 

Some of my favorite work from my portfolio seems to be pieces that include some sort of surface augmentation. I love chattering, carving and using all manner of conventional (and unconventional) tools to texturize the surface of my work. It brings out hidden personality in glazing and can really transition a fairly traditional form into something that feels like it has history, depth and character. 

Just before the holiday break, I started playing around with some sponge stamping. I was very excited about my finished product (not yet posted). After talking with one of my potter mentors this weekend, I've decided to add some of my own sponge stamps to my arsenal. Literally minutes, with the proper tools

Much like clay stamps - I hate using stamps made by other folks. While they are lovely, the idea of using them to augment my work feels like cheating. I'd rather learn how to make the stamps, then fiddle about in my own space, creating designs from the recesses of my strange imagination. 

I'll likely take one of the designs from some of the mandalas I've painted and see if I can transform them onto the face of a silk sponge. I shopped around and purchased a wood burning kit - I'll share my sponge stamp making results soon. 

Not a resolution...but close.

Today. During the holiday season, the studio where I do the bulk of my work closes for 2 weeks for a cleaning/regrouping. Normally, during that time, I sneak in for some quiet wheel time while the holidays whirl all about me. It is my oasis and the only thing that feels normal and constant during that time. I'm a nervous nelly. I NEED normal and constant, to be okay.

This year, I decided I would take the two full weeks away from the studio to focus on the growing demands at my job and prepare/rest for what will likely be another hectic year. I figured I could benefit from the break. Use the time wisely.

Instead, I threw myself into work, grew depressed about all the old ghosts every holiday season stirs in me, suffered through two colds and generally felt more detatched from the holiday spirit than ever before. Despite this, I purchased like the dutiful consumer, sent out handmade holiday cards and gifts and did what many of us do - go through the motions. Faking it til I make it, with a grin on my face and a hole in my heart.

I woke this morning still shaking off the last of the latest cold, but eager to get back into a rhythm of a normalized existence. New session starting at the studio refreshed my perspective on work and my lens of the world. As soon as I walked back into the studio, I felt at home. I remembered what is still good in this life, what is still alive and thriving in me. I remembered things like progress and milestones. I remembered that I still have a wonderful gift and opportunity with clay. Every time I sit behind the wheel, I have a clean slate.

There's much to do this year. I'm not one for annual resolutions, or long reflections on all the ways I'm going to do things differently in the coming year. For me, what works is simply vowing to make a better attempt at living a good life. This life is a moving target. I have always told myself, I don't need a list of goals to move forward. All I need is the desire to be better than I was a year before.

Then I looked at my pottery metrics. Last year, I reached some important milestones. I made my first plate (if you knew what a pain in the ass plates were to throw, you'd know what a feat that was). I sold work internationally. I made potter pals across the country. I sold more pieces in 2011 than I did in 2007 - 2010 combined.  In the first week of January, I'm met with a steady flow of commission requests, pending orders and inquiries. I'm already getting a strong inkling (intuitively speaking) that this year will be busier and more productive than I could have even anticipated.

In 2011, I inherited a new (to me) pottery wheel. It's sitting in a garage that needs to be prepped and converted into a home studio, while I am in the midst of considering a residential transition. Suddenly, tonight as I looked over everything that's happening with my creative life, I realized...I need to establish what needs to happen and when.

• I need to get my home studio up and functional.
• I need to work on my throwing schedule/project commitments. I want to know what I'm throwing, where my focus should be (aesthetically) and what I need to do to challenge myself this year.
• I need to be more strategic about how I present my work to the world.

Well what do you know...those look a lot like goals.

I won't make you any grand proclamations. I will just tell you this...I'll make this year better than the last one. That's a promise I tend to keep.

A holiday whisper.

After a weekend of baking, wrapping, prepping and decorating - this morning brought the part of this holiday flutter I loathe the most - the shipping. 

No matter how you plan, schedule and get your logistical "A-game" going...there is nothing to prepare you for the despair that is the line at the post office. It's been rainy in Austin this week, that veil of clouds and misty rain helped to further frame the dread.

I had about 25 inidividual little items to send out...and after standing in line at the automated shipping kiosk, I began to have some low scale anxiety about the reactions of people behind me when they actually saw how many items I needed to post and ship. About mid way through, I began to hear loud audible sighs and heavy shuffling of feet. I looked down in my bag, and saw a dozen more to go. Dare I continue on, or take a break. My inner panic-bot said, "QUICK, GET OUT OF THE WAY BEFORE THEY BEGIN SHOOTING ARROWS AT THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD!" And...I complied. I walked back around to the back of the line, and opted to wait for another twenty minutes, to complete my shipping. 

I pondered people at that point, and how they behave during the holiday. I try really hard to be upbeat and positive with people during this time of year, but the reality is...most of us are feeling some kind of tension, fatigue or annoyance with trying to keep up with commitments we swore we weren't going to replicate...but somehow did. 

Even those of us hellbent on holiday cheer start sneering when attempting to ward off the grumpy energy of hundreds of people around us. 

I scowled in that line, annoyed with people, annoyed with their general impatience and their audible protestations over things that really aren't that awful. 

Finally at my turn (again) at the kiosk, I raced through my remaining packages. As I turned to storm off into a rainy day, my eyes caught the gaze of an older lady waiting in the line behind me. She whispered, "Merry Christmas," and gave me the sweetest smile. 

In that instant, everything in me melted and I beamed back at her. "Thank you. Merry Christmas to you, too." It's what I said. But my heart added a quiet, "thank you." To her, and whatever sweet spirits heard my pleas for kindness. 

That little moment will probably be the sweetest gift I remember from this season. And you know what? I'm incredibly satisfied with it.

Happy Holidays. 

Glazin'

Glazing for the holidays means breaking my rule of end of session glazing.