Thinking Without Words II

This is what it feels like sometimes when I really want to have some alone-time for thinking.

Everyday Stuff - Those things you have to do.

The bottom section represents interruptions, stuff that comes up, sidetracks, new problems that have to be attended to, you know…….

And sandwiched between it all is new ideas, old ideas you want to get back to, segways you want to take, continuing themes, etc.

Jottings: "Art Advice"

Since, at the moment I don't have access to clay or equipment, I have been spending time "cleaning out" my computer.

 "My dirty old computer"-that commercial cracks me up.

++++++

**Segway Warning**

Can you become a computer hoarder?
I think so.

++++++

Anyway


In my frustration and because my MAC is now screaming to me that the Startup Disc is full and I can't download things and need to unload files,  I ran across a stored document called,


 Art Advice: Random Thoughts about You and Your Work

The first 10 years are the hardest.

Break a lot of bad pots.

Keep a lot of bad pots, but only as a reference.

Surrender to your art. 

Recognize it is an organic need for you. 

Don't apologize for taking time to pursue it.

Follow every impulse. 

Do It, 

Even though it has not been done before by you or anyone else. 

Even if it seems crazy, 

Do it.

Don’t persist in trying to ‘heal’ a bad pot; chuck it and make a better one.

Strive to know your flaws and work to correct them.

Learn from your mistakes.. 

Make notes about your mistakes so you will remember them.

Keep your best work.

Find other artists to talk to. They understand creative madness.

Flex your creative muscles every day:  

Sketch, read, dream, plan, make:  

Whatever needs doing and whatever dreaming need to be dreamed. 

Make it a daily habit. 

Inches add up to miles.

Photograph everything you make.

Take notes about your work. Your initial intention, the happy mistakes that happen, techniques, inspirations, whatever you will need to think about, whatever you see or do. You may think you'll remember later, but sometimes ideas are fleeting. 

You don't want them to get away.

Search out your own truth and keep returning to your own themes.

Keep pictures or examples of your inspirations.

Copying an IDEA is good; duplicating another artist’s WORK---not so good.  

It robs them and robs you.

Build a reference library: Keep the books that are relevant, sell the others

Avoid looking at ugly.

Listen to everybody. 

Ignore bad advice.  

Keep only what feeds you.

Strive to master the medium.

Don’t worry about Style, worry about Skill.

Set your standards high. 

I mean HIGH. 

So high you will always have to chase them.

Don’t worry or ask yourself, ‘Is it good enough?’ 

It’s good enough until you can make better.

Find your market niche.

If you need a tool, figure out how to find it or make it.  

If you can’t, find a good craftsman to make it for you.

Take care of your tools.

Keep learning. Don't rely on somebody else to teach everything you need to know. 
Teach yourself whenever you can; you will learn better that way.

Find your own best work environment, be it solitude or group, silence, music or talk, sloppy or neat, etc. 

If a piece does not sell, pack it up and don't look at it for a long time. Then, unpack it and look at it again. Decide if it should be kept, sold or destroyed.

Don't offer anything for sale you would be embarrassed to see again.

Live with your pots. What looks great today may not look so great tomorrow. And surprisingly, vice versa.

Don't get into a rut. 
Everybody's work changes even a little bit. Embrace it.

Don't take yourself too seriously, but seriously enough.

Funky Casserole

This small casserole, made in the form of a mizusashi*, is one I keep around in the studio. I like it's craziness and want to remind myself to do this kind of decoration again--but in variation.

Unfortunately, it was part of a group of pots I took for a review for a co-op gallery in a nearby town. I say unfortunately because when I got it back in the box of pots and unpacked it at home, the lid of this casserole was chipped--As in dropped.

Needless to say, I was very disappointed that no one said a thing to me about the accident. Even a "Sorry, someone dropped the piece during the jury process." Better yet, if they had offered to pay the sale price or even the wholesale price. Even just an apology would have been okay.

I know these things happen. I was once in a group gallery in a big show in downtown Seattle when a customer dropped and broke a very large and expensive pot. (Not mine, by the way.) What did she do? Nearly ran out the door!

Actually, all the potters had agreed that if anyone broke a piece, we would accept payment if offered, but just say, "These things happen," and let it go. Maybe take a name and number if the person offered and give that to the artist for them to settle the matter between them.

It can happen to anyone. I've dropped my own stuff on the studio floor and broken it to smithereens.

But why don't people have the fortitude to stand up and own up? Fear. Money.

I'm sure if someone had told me at the gallery that my piece was accidentally chipped, I would have said, "That's okay; things like this happen." It would have been forgotten. As it is, every time I look at this pot, I'm a little angry and sad.

I'm also glad I didn't join the coop. If they treated jury pieces this way, how responsible/honest would they be with my work?

Breakage is a subject that should be discussed before any show or arrangement with a gallery; just so the air is clear and everyone knows where they stand.

*Mizusashi: Large water container for use during Japanese tea ceremony.

Kiln opening

The kiln opening went fine with the exception of one teapot. I was attempting a bas-relief of figures on the sides and one side popped off onto the shelf. Hammer Time. Next time, I will sculpt the sides and join them when they're leather hard. Trying to form the figures on the side of the pot after it's put together causes too much difference in the dampness of the two operations. I suspect that's my problem, anyway.

Live and learn................................Live, mostly.

My other pieces came out really well.

While I was unloading the kiln, I kept hearing scratching sounds. The studio is in one finished double garage; the kiln room is another attached unfinished garage. There's a door between. I had left the door open since my storage shelves for bisque are in the studio. My dog was snorting his brains out and when the noise finally penetrated my brain, I began to wonder what was going on.

I walked into the studio and was almost eye-to-eye with a red squirrel running around the ceiling on the garage door rails. I don't know how he got in. Maybe he snuck in the door when my back was turned. He can get into the attic--much to my irritation. I keep thinking we'll finish the spaces out and I'll eliminate that problem, but seems like everything else comes before that.

Anyway, I panic because I have a lot of work standing on shelves all over the place, the dog panics because his heart's desire is within reach, the squirrel panics because he's a squirrel.

He jumps from the door rails to a shelf, runs along it behind the bisque, across to the corner where my glaze materials are stored, back behind two shelves loaded with some of my prize pieces. He's just dancing on the open support strips, runs across two window sills. All the while the dog is barking and jumping. Yee gods! I grab the broom, open the garage doors, shut the adjoining door and try to chase him toward the big opening so he can get out of there. In the process, I run into a major spider web (they're moving inside because cold weather is coming) get web all in my hair and have a spider running around on my shoulder and arm.

Meanwhile, the squirrel runs back across a window, the back behind the shelves of prized pieces, across another window, back to the glaze stuff; the dog jumping like he's on a pogo stick. Every time he barks, the squirrel gets a little crazier.

I wave the broom, block him from the adjoining door and try to chase him toward the open garage door. He finally gets it, makes a mad dash down the wall. (How'd he do that!) and out onto the driveway, the dog in hot pursuit.

That little devil. I've tried to catch him with a Hav-A-Hart baited with everything I can think of. He has an abundance of pine cones, so he's not interested in sunflower seeds or peanut butter. I'd love to take him for a ride.

When Multi-Tasking Goes Wrong

Why do I avoid that which I love?

Why do I feel I must do those things considered 'work' before I can do the thing I don't consider 'work'?

It is a woman's curse, I think.

The kitchen must be cleaned. The laundry must be done. The household wheels must be set into motion and while they're spinning, I am freed to work in my studio with no pangs.

Logically, I know this is rubbish. Housework will never be done. There will always be other things to do.

I must say to myself, "Let it all go hang. My work is what feeds me and that alone makes it a priority."

It's easy to get muddled with the myriad of things that demand attention. Multi-tasking might be viewed as a gift, but for concentrating on your art, it's an enemy.

I need time. Time to think. Time to dream. Time to just take care of my clay.

The wonderful James Christensen work, "The Responsible Woman" comes to mind. (Unfortunately this is out of print, but a copy might be found on the web through dealers or Ebay.)

More About Work and ADD

I'm still a bit ADD even as an adult. I manage the problem better now than when I was younger.

Understanding ADD and the long-range view of maturity helps.

Although I can be distracted easily and have many things going on at one time, the other side of ADD is the ability to focus intently when interested in something.

Take this plus a creative "mandate" and you've got someone who goes into a bubble where time, hunger, sleep become irrelevant until it burns itself out. I still do go off on tangents.

I can also multi-task like crazy.

But this can have a bad side too. I can accumulate so many things on my plate, things can become muddled or overpowering. The Coulda', Shoulda', Woulda' rolls up behind me and sticks like Velcro until I become paralyzed. That's when I just have to take a deep breath and either sort it out or go do something else for a while.

One strategy is making long lists, writing things down before they evaporate. That and a good calendar with lots of space for notes is a good way to get a handle on things.

My notebooks, of which there are legion, are just a jumble of everything from measurements of rooms, sizes of frames for images to matt, ideas, sketches, projects, floor plans, grocery lists, interesting recipes, passing thoughts and observations, books to buy, remembrances, to-do lists: A regular brain-trust I can't do without. I finally transferred and alphabetized my books-to-look-for list onto my iPhone so that when I happen to be near a used book store (one of my fav haunts) or the library (another) I'll at least make a better stab at what to look for.

For me, it still has to be on paper. I don't trust electronic storage because too many things can hamper getting to it. Paper. Pencil/Pen. Handy. Simple.

Write It DOWN!

How many times have you done something with glaze, just on a whim while you're into glazing, didn't write it down and by the time you've made enough stuff to fill the kiln and finally fired it all and then take the work out and say "WOW, LOOK AT THAT!", you've forgotten what the heck you did?

Not only is the above one of the longest sentences in history but, unfortunately, it is a true sentence.

It's happened to me 'way too many times. Here's an example:

This plate was done in a workshop with unfamiliar clay, unfamiliar glaze and a different kind of firing. So I have an excuse.

But seriously, I did work up a page for my studio notebook that has a header showing the date, the cone, whether it's a bisque firing or glaze firing, how full the kiln was, how long the firing took. There is space below the header for a quick drawing of the pieces, notes about the glaze, etc. and in the upper right corner, a marked-off square for after-firing comments.

Like: Don't use this glaze over that glaze. Or

This glaze needs to be put on thicker/thinner.

It helps.

If you remember to do it.

Don't Let This Happen to You

Some years ago, I tried wrapping a small jar with copper wire.

I dutifully placed the piece on a set tile to guard against any drips on the kiln shelf. I used very thin wire.......This came out of the kiln.

I loved the result of the wire melt. Fortunately, it didn't drip too much and there was no sticking to the shelf.

.......But.........

I couldn't get the lid off.

I tapped.

I sawed.

I even bought a Dremel diamond bit. But to no avail.

It makes a nice paperweight. Or doorstop.

I must try it again, but the next time, design a catchment for the copper pooling.

Of course, if you ever wanted to seal something up permanently, this would be just the ticket.

How the Internet Ate my Brain

(Unfortunately, this product is no longer available or I would have bought it.)


Used to be, I would go to the dictionary to look up a word. Now I use Google.

If I wanted information, I had two sets of encyclopedia, a bookshelf full of reference books. Ditto on going to Google.

Used to be, I would look up a recipe to find how to use up leftovers or cook whatever. Now I can find more recipes on the web than I need. With any number of variations of one dish.

Used to be, I would turn on my disc player or the radio to hear my favorite music, now I listen on my iPod, my computer, and I'm looking for an iPod-playing radio to hear NPR. (Although I have iPod-ed my favorites programs already.)

Used to be, I would go to the library or a bookstore (I still do, thank God.) to find a book to read. Now I order from the web, have days of books loaded into my iPod. So I save my eyes from reading in bed with dim light. (My hearing will go next.)

Used to be, I would take slides of my work, package up the cartridge, mail it and wait, get them back, check them in a viewer, label and file them in notebook pages. Now I have 3000 jpegs slowing down my computer speed, waiting to be off-loaded onto discs. But I can call them up, export them, copy them, move them around, index them, look at them on a whim.

Used to be, I would write letters to friends or call them occasionally. Now I don't write except at Christmas. But now, along with old friends, I have new friends all of which I will never meet, more than likely, but what friends they are! I've 'known' them for about, oh, maybe 12-15 years. Some I have met in the flesh, but most are cyber friends from discussion groups. And in many ways, I prefer it that way.

They are purely cerebral friendships. Just minds talking to minds. The only thing I miss about discussion group friends is not getting the little nuances of tone of voice, subtle facial expressions and body language--those things in real conversations that give you more meaningful clues. The cyber frriends I have actually met and talked to in real time, however, I feel I understand more fully when I read their emails.

What I like about the email arrangement is that I don't have to answer right away like a conversation in real time. I have more time to think about it before I shoot off my mouth. (Although I AM rather fast at a smart-ass answer, I have to say.)

There's a manegable time-lag. I can send or receive email at my convenience. So when I'm on chasing a clay inspiration, on a cooking jag, want to finish the last part of a book or have declared a cleaning jihad, I can expect to get at it or to luxuriate in unbroken time with no interruptions until I'm ready to be civil again.

(One of the horrors of my many and varied jobs was always the phone. THE PHONE! insistent, unrelenting, and usually the source of another problem on the other end that had to be taken care of RIGHT NOW.......There were days when I considered the knee-hole section of my desk a very inviting location.)

I have an antique Nokia 3588i that I rarely turn on. In my mind, it's for calling OUT only. Like, in an emergency. Like a flat tire. No gas. Forgot my purse. Forgot my shopping list. Things like that.

Besides, I have G-mail/cell phone account.

Call and leave me a message.

I'll get back to you.

Promise.

aaaah addendum

One thing you learn working in ceramics----

You learn how to deal with loss.

AAAaaagh!

Disaster!


Woe is me!


Ahem


I guess I was due.




For years I've fired my little shortie kiln with no mishaps, no glaze-running-down-the-side-of-the-pot, no blisters, no spitting glaze off the pots, no meltdowns, or whatever other problem you could possibly have within the power and mysteries of kiln goblins.

This time though, they got me.
All of them.

My lamp bases, (the white one was gorgeous, by the way) the three square teapots were cemented to the shelf and, of course, the lids were perfect. One glaze blistered and ran straight to the shelf and my shino glaze had gotten senile and developed a skin condition to boot.

Could I have used stilts? Set tiles? Nah, this time, there could be no remedy.

Okay, okay. My dues payment should now be marked "In Full". (Hah, brave front here, but I don't think they heard me, though.)

NOW what do I take to NCECA?


Photo: Nightmare by Fuseli

Chaos

I live in chaos. Actually, I should say I live in the midst of chaos--Me, personally, I'm not in chaos.

There isn't a surface in my studio that isn't full of something. I have to clear out a place on the worktable to make anything. Doesn't bother me. It would drive some people crazy. And Thank God I don't have to clean it up every time I quit working. THAT would be work! Some time ago, I was comforted by seeing photos of Warren McKenzie's studio--just as messy as mine. I'm off the hook.

I also remember Paul Dresang saying in a workshop/demo that he had to clear out the 'detritus' to a 2-foot square in order to work. This is a man who makes wonderful, incredible, meticulous fool-the-eye clay pieces. Seeing his work, you would think he worked in a studio that was like a scientific lab.....

The mess functions as an index. I have shelves full of things that 'worked' and I want to be reminded of that in order to repeat it--shapes to repeat, glaze combinations that sing. What is referred to as "The Artist's Collection", as in the....

There's also things in other places that didn't work. Ideas in progress--things to do again, but with a different glaze, a form problem to solve, a piece that worked, but the glaze ran or the form cracked:

The bastard children of a good idea.

Besides, if I didn't keep them out, I'd forget them.

GIGO - Garbage in; Garbage out.

Well, not exactly. But every time I load the kiln, I have this idea in my head about how the pieces will look when they come out. Most of the time, everything clicks; some of the time, it doesn't. Now that can be a good thing or it can be a bad thing.

A glaze ruuuuns right-off-the-pot and onto the kiln shelf.
(Forehead slap) Why didn't I put a set-tile under that?
Maybe I should incorporate a set-tile into the piece? no no no

That combination of glazes never acted like THAT before!

Did I calculate the glaze right?
How thick was it when I put it on?
Has it changed from the last time?
Where's my notes!

Ugh! I don't like that at all!
Why did I waste that piece?

Did the kiln fire right?

ANOTHER learning experience?

I'm going to stick to one glaze from now on.

It's Hammer Time.

Or

Wow Wow Wow
I'm only going to do (white, black, green, That Glaze) from now on!

I LOVE it!
Where's my notes?

Ooooo, That's a keeper! I'm going to take it into my house and live with it forever basking in it's gloriousness.
(That is, until an even better, more beautiful pot comes along.
Or a show comes along.
Or a customer comes along who can't live without it. (It had better be a good price. Oh, where's my camera? Need a picture of it before it goes out the door.)

I've put pots away thinking they were the pits and have unpacked them later and thought, "Hum, that's a nice pot. Why didn't I like it? I'll have to do that again."

It's all in what you think the pot will look like after it's fired. If it doesn't measure up to your mental picture, you might judge it to be a failure while everyone else may think it's great. It's all in your expectations. I try not to have expectations, but it's hard. I've learned to let a piece "cure" for a while. (In some cases, they fester.)

If the construction is fine with no technical flaws and it's a saleable piece, take it to a show or offer it for sale. You'd be surprised how many people may love it and want it. You just never know.

What a Difference a Glaze Makes

This tumbler didn't come out like I pictured it in my mind. The glazes ran 'way more than I expected, although I've done this before, but on a flat surface where they behaved themselves. This isn't quite IT overall. I want the base darker. I'll brush the rim to match and the flare at the bottom of the vessel, then wax the thing. Then do the body. This was an experiment: I threw the top and base separately. I scored the base heavily, bisqued them separately, then glazed both pieces and set them in the kiln on short kiln posts. (The inside of the base wasn't glazed.) Musta' been all those fumes because a couple of these guys got drunk and s-l-i-d ever so slightly off-center. I still like the look. It's worth repeating, I think.

"Cup Committee Meeting" When I photographed this group and looked at the result, I thought it looked as if they were all talking to each other. (I must eat lunch)

I had a lot of fun making these. I wanted them loose with interesting variations. They all have names: Sluggo, Unkempt Lady, Nose, Three Bumps, One Bump, Three Knuckles, etc. They came out pretty much like I expected. I mean, they're WHITE. Total emphasis on form here. I'll make these again, only bigger and more 'out there'. They're fun for you hand.

This tumbler was done after I did a series of smaller ones with more applied bumps. (Pictured below) It has a nicer shape, is larger and just classier looking. Not a whole lot of difference in the raw clay and finished piece. Easy to drink out of because of the lip-fitting flared top, Nice balance in the hand and easy to clean out because you can get your hand inside easily. I really like the size. It's about 10 oz. without filling to the top.

This is "Warts and All". This little devil and all his kin ran like a bandit. Pictured is the only surviver that can stand without leaning. Lovely interior, though, don'tchathink? A note will go in my glazing journal: Do NOT use this combo on anything vertical!

A cylinder form that has been paddled to make a square bottom works well with this glaze. It's a fake ash matt and the runs are very nice. Simple form/show-off glaze.

The grouping below is "Nice Family" because every one has one stamp at the bottom that is the same; the top stamp is different on each. This is a glaze combo I'm very comfortable with. I've used it before with stamped pieces and it pools nicely in the cavities. Celadon is always satisfying.

Disruptions

This is a funky pitcher that was hand formed with slabbed and stamped clay. It makes me laugh inside every time I see it. It reminds me of one of those dinosaurs with the flared plate around the back of the head and the spade-shaped vertical plates running up and down it's back.

Then I made "Count Olaf's Pitcher". I love Lemony Snicket's books. I like this pitcher better than the first. Both pitchers pour like champs. The spouts are a design I developed based on leaf shapes. These are variations of tropical leaves which evolved to shed water, since there is such an abundance of it in those climates. The shape at the very end of the spout also discourages drips.

In the next few weeks, other commitments are going to keep me out of the studio and away from work. I would just about prefer to eat, sleep and work at this point, but there times when it is necessary to attend to other things and shelve the work for a while. I'm trying to get ahead with bisque and large pieces that can be left on batts to dry while I'm out of my studio. It will be much easier to resume the work that way. So I'm firing my kiln tonight, rather early in the morning. It has a computerized timer which I have programmed with a delay that will begin the sequence at 5 a.m. tomorrow. It will fire all day and cool after an automatic shut off after about 12-14 hours depending on how densely it is packed. This one is packed. Even though the system is automatic, I never leave my kiln to run on it's own. I'm continually mother-henning it checking to make sure everything is working right.

Warning: Some people may find offensive.......or why I love email

Previously today, my friend said:
"Heard on (name withheld) support line Sunday night:
" 'All of our operators are helping other customers. Your call is very important to us. It's easier to reach our associates from nine to five, Monday through Friday. If you don't want to wait, you may prefer to hang up and call back during those times.' "
"Hold on", my friend says. "If I don't want to wait a few MINUTES, I should wait for more than 12 HOURS and call them again? That doesn't make any sense!"

Me:

"no no no no no,

'Wait', in this case, is a destination. It's that sucking hole of desolation in the murky dark recesses of Telephone Damnation that you are pitched into head-first to nurse your lurking feeling of total rejection and where that slimey little demon hiding at the back of your head finally sees his opportunity to skewer into your subconscious thoughts like: I know my mother really didn't love me. My sister was right, I am a butt pustule. My life means nuuuuuuthing.

Or (insert perkey voice here) You can hang up."