It is the person steady, quiet, consistent and patient that you need to keep your eyes on. They don't care about your perception. They don't waste their time with illusion. They are focused solely on their desired outcomes. And they know they possess all they need to achieve them. Their spiritual resources are endless.

Instagram: sibbotery

That's what this morning was for me. I rolled over and thought,  "perhaps an extra twenty minutes of slumber would do the trick." Turns out, that gang of uglies had nothing but time to wait me out. I got out of bed and grumbled through the usual morning practice of preparing a snack for my geriatric pit bull, then preparing the coffee pot for myself. I figured I had about an hour to enjoy at least a cup and a half of coffee before I made my way to studio. One hour turned to two. Two to three...you get the idea. I talked on the phone. I stared listlessly out of the window watching neighbors going about their memorial weekend plans. I avoided my happy place. 

Finally, I lingered around the house long enough to feel antsy, and I headed to the studio after making a compromise with myself. I would go, pick up the materials I needed, bring them home and hand build. I could continue to maintain my self-ordained productivity while working through whatever feelings were stirring about in me. 

Attempting to throw with a cluttered mind and spirit and next to impossible. Beyond getting the clay firmly on the wheel head, anything else is a minor miracle. There are times when you can fight it, and center yourself as you center the clay...but today was different. I just didn't feel like wrestling with the clay...or me. I wanted to fester in my own discontent. 

Hand building is new to me. I'm still learning to master pinching. But something about the lack of a motorized wheel, and the need to balance myself against random rpms, makes hand building "feel" easier. I know it's not. But my mind can wander as I pinch, compress, shape and pinch again. My fingers do the work and my head wanders miles away, to wage it's battles. I can lose myself for a few hours, at least long enough to send the monsters back under the bed. 

I did that today. I pinched, compresed, shaped and pinched again. I lost myself, and lost some of those monsters too. As the sun begins its initial descent, I'm not magically transformed...but I'm better than I was when I woke up. 

...I'll take my progress however it may come. 

Clayways Pottery Studio and Gallery was on the tour stop list, and all of the studio renters participated by dressing up their private studios, opening up their privacy curtains and inviting the local community into their spaces to talk clay, art, aesthetic and more.  As some visitors shopped in the gallery, others observed pottery demos by our local potter community, took tours of the facility to see the tools involved in the process and connected with the potter community that works within the ClayWays walls and throughout Austin, Texas.

I don't normally participate in events or shows like these. With just about five years of pottery experience under my belt, I feel a bit like a kid trying to invite her to her parents' dinner party. That gives me a fair amount of insecurity about sharing my pieces in "meat space" versus the soothing anonymity of the Internet. Despite that, I brought in some of my work for the event as I was reminded by those near and dear to me that you have to start somewhere. 

As my Mom arranged items on shelf, I realized that this is a part of the artistic process. To receive feedback and to experience people as they experience your work. It was nice to field questions about glazes and techniques. It was nice to learn from other potters featuring their work. It was nice to finally acknowledge (to myself) that this is far more than a hobby. It's a craft that has taught me some important things about myself. It's an outlet for all the things I would normally keep tucked away inside. It's another way for me to connect with the greater world around me, besides my career. And there is so much more for me to learn. As other potters shared their first experiences with me, it was important to note that everyone's aesthetic evolves over time. The forms you throw as well as the accents and nuances will change. And they should. They are the markers of your own personal evolution. These are not things to be hidden, but to be celebrated as you entire body of work. 

That gave me a new appreciation for what events like this bring to the artist. So often with work and other things, I get lost in my own head. Internalizing everything so much that I occasionally forget to look up and engage the people observing or seeking to be involved in whatever journey I am on. Watching my mother aligning my work and participating with excitement reminded me of the enjoyment that others can have participating in something that is important to you. It is all reflection. Mirroring. Feedback. Validation. 

Photo credit: GabonomicsOn Sunday, I visited with a few friends that came by to visit the studio. I received great feedback from artists I really admire. That included some finger-wagging admonishment about "hiding my light under a bushel basket." But by that time, the benefit and the meaning behind the words had already set in. I got the message loud and clear. By the end of Sunday evening, as we cleaned up our studio spaces and put things back in working order, you could feel the presence of all the good energy that moved through every inch of the building. That is the benefit of participating in shows and sales and open houses and workshops. When people congregate for the love of artistic expression, there is something magical that happens. Energy is transformed, problems and worries are forgotten. There is a communion of spirit centered around a critical human need. The need to create. 

I'm looking forward to the tour next year and to filling my calendar with other events like it. Check out these great images of other installations and studios participating in the tour from Culturemap Austin. 

When it came time to glaze, I decided I would use these plates to experiment with glaze techniques. I know what you're going to ask. "Why in the world would you experiment on pieces that you've indicated have incredible value to you?" 

The short answer is because I'm unpredictable that way. The longer answer is that I was taught early on not to get too emotionally attached to any one piece, as plenty of heartbreaks occur in the process. From bisque firing, to glazing to glaze firing, way too many things can go wrong. So, I decided to test my willingness to practice detachment by experimenting with my beloved plates. 

One glaze technique I've yet to master is the art of dripping. I've seen many artists do amazing things with glazes and dripping. It adds a layer of drama to simple pieces, and depending on the oxidation occuring in the kiln, and where the piece is placed within the kiln itself, you can come up with some unexpected but jaw dropping results. The times when I've attempted to use this technique have lest my pieces looking less like magical, layered, orgies of color and more like a toddler that got too heavy handed in finger painting class. Not always a good look. 

So you can imagine where this story is going. I decided I was going to drip my plates. Oh yeah. Going for the gold. I picked my colors, assembled my tools and mixed the glazes. I was going in. Moments later, I was looking at a set of plates that even unfired, were ugly beyond the limits of my imagination. 

Fired, they looked worse. My most recent instructor peering around my shoulder as I inspected them with silent disappointment creeping across my face like an eclipse. 

"That's the thing about dripping," she said comfortingly. "It's such a gamble if the drips aren't just right." 

She wasn't kidding. 

So I started looking around for some tutorials online. I'm no longer receiving "formal" instruction, so it's up to me to start looking for workshops or other material to continue learning. I stumbled across this video on youtube, and I'm thinking two things: 

1. She makes it look simple. My experience is that it's never actually that simple. 

2. That glaze she's dripping with looks as thick as glue. Is THAT the part of this process I am missing? Find the thickest glaze in the studio and drip with that? 

Anyway, here it goes. And yes, I will be trying this soon - I've got a big collection of bowls just begging to be dripped on. Okay, not really. But I'm gonna try it anyway. Enjoy. 

Instagram: Sibbotery

The West Austin Studio Tour is this weekend, May 19th and 20th. This self-guided tour takes visitors through Austin's creative community beginning downtown and moving up (and west) through various galleries, studios and businesses featuring some of the work from Austin's amazing artists. 

ClayWays will be one of the studios on that tour. As you might know by now, that's where I keep my studio space. I'll be around on Sunday in that studio space and I might even be up for a live demo or two. My shelf space will feature some of my work that is available on etsy. It should be a great time with food and refreshments. 

So today I tidied and threw and thought about the pieces I intend to share during the weekend. I've had some bad luck with some recent firings, so I'll be working on gathering my good juju and turning my production around this week. And by the way, those pulling techniques I shared earlier this week past? They WORKED. 

"Let me tell you what's true in all this."

"The truth is..."

I hesitate to write this post, mostly because I am an opinionated person. And sometimes, I am guilty of assigning my beliefs to another person's plight or challenge. I'm becoming acutely aware of how annoying and truly useless unsolicited advice and clarification can be. Mostly because it assumes one very faulty and fairly arrogant belief: 

My truth is also true for you. 

What an obnoxious notion. The notion that whatever facts, knowledge and insight I've collected about things going on in my life will automatically be applicable to you. Furthermore, even if they ARE applicable...how obnoxious to assume any one of us NEEDS another person to point out our path to us before we've even indicated that we are in any way...lost. (Note to self: re-read this post when you take a notion to "fix" someone else)

As I've said...I've been guilty of this, probably more times than I am comfortable admitting. However, as I've grown older, I've learned through my own frustrations on the receiving end of this behavior that what we are most seeking in times of frustration or confusion is a sounding board. Not a nurse. Or a firefighter. Or a hero. All many of us are looking for, is someone who can hear "our" truth and sit with us in it, until we're ready to take the next step. We just want someone to listen to what we are processing without attempting to simplify the journey we are taking. 

Truth is largely an act of self-discovery. And for someone else to attempt to steer your self-discovery just feels...oppressive. Even if it's meant to alleviate pain or struggle or some negative emotion...if it hasn't been asked for, there's a strong chance it won't be entirely appreciated by the recipient. Even if it is "true," or sound or good. It's the notion that you feel justified in stepping into someone's path and making an attempt to guide when you weren't asked to do so. And that, gently implies that you didn't believe in that person's ability to sort out their issue on their own - in their own time. Which opens up another potentially uncomfortable can of worms. 

I'm not implying there aren't perceptible truths out there. Someone grabbing your arm as you prepare to step off a building with no consequence, is an example. That person is operating with a proven scientific truth - that gravity will pull you rapidly to the pavement. The problem becomes when we apply truth to tenuous circumstances. Or, situations with a host of potentially unknown variables. There is no "definite" truth. There is only the truth you can apply from where you stand on the outside looking in on someone else's life, beliefs, experiences and expectations.

Wouldn't it be nice if we all possessed the humility required to acknowledge that we are fallible (even when we just KNOW we're correct)? Until then, I guess in those times where you can't help but to stampede over someone else's shared thoughts or experiences with your "truth...," don't delude yourself into thinking that the fact that you "mean well" is enough to excuse the offense. It's often, not. 

This post for example...is my truth. It's what I believe. There will be some, or many who don't agree. There will be others who will attempt to justify the application of unsolicited advice under the guise of friendship, or counsel or warning or some such preventative measure. I don't deny those folks their right to justify what they do or don't. After all, its true for them. 

Just don't be offended if I dismiss your truth. And please, feel free to dismiss mine. I'm perfectly okay with that. 

Tonight I had the opportunity to dine with a friend who kept me steady when I thought I lost the ability to keep my head above water. Now...he'll tell you I was never that weak. Never a victim. Never that susceptible to capsizing. But in the moment, he knew that truth better than I did. 

Shortly thereafter, as is common in some ties, we found ourselves drifting into a long lull of non-communication. Life happens. Work happens. People get overwhelmed. You look up and you realize it's been years since you talked to someone that you truly miss in a way words can't always describe. 

We stumbled across each other recently. Actually, stumble is a poor verb to describe what happened. I reached out for him and not much later, he reached back. We met tonight for dinner to catch up on all that's happened since we last spoke. Three hours later we managed to give each other sufficient summations and then we just sat back and marveled at each other. Where we were emotionally, mentally when last we spoke...and where we are today. We've both had our share of lessons, but looking back, none so big that we couldn't become stronger and better and wiser for them. 

We talked about the irony in the gift of time. Life provides it to us when we least expect it. And when it does, we often complain or curl into a ball of depression at the "end" of something. A relationship. A job. A "status." We get so lost in our sorrow about what's happening, that we completely overlook the fact that with the "end" of anything there is an opportunity. For rest. For evaluation. For consideration. For growth. For designing something better than you could have imagined while you were distracted by other things. Eventually, life cycles back around and you're back in something. A new relationship. A new job. A new status. And before you can even experience the joy of that, you look back on the space you just left - wishing you had the emotional maturity to enjoy it for what it was. A necessary respite before the next journey. That is not to say that what comes will be dreadful, but whatever it is - good or bad, it will require work and compromise and commitment. No time for emotional and mental wanderlust where you don't have to consider anyone's needs and wants or wishes other than your own. Those are times to be treasured, but instead we spend our days looking out on the painted pictures of other people's lives believing we're missing something or being punished - mourning the fact that we've had to release something with no appreciation for the benefits of enduring adversity.

We are different now, this friend and I. Granted, we still look the same and sound the same... But there's a knowing we have in our respective lives that we didn't have just a few short years ago. As we shared scars and battle tales, we enjoyed the fact that the beauty of trauma and distress are the opportunities they bring for deeper growth. We have learned to enjoy the "pauses" that life brings. We are never as lost as we think we are. If you hold on, all waters quiet in their own time.

Try and enjoy the waves as they come...and go. 

Honey Pot Jar