Day 273 of Winter…yet hope springs eternal!

Yes, let it be Spring!  While yesterday was officially the first day of Spring, I always thought of March 21^st as that – something about odd numbers was appealing, long before I (vaguely) knew of the philosophies of odd numbers.  “What could be the reason for liking numbers known as “odd,” which means eccentric, a crackpot, and a bizarre person? A preference for odd numbers is in itself, strange.”¹ Yes, that rather sums it up. 
But back to Spring, and all the promise it holds of regrowth and rejuvenation.  As I look forward – or should I say, (try to) focus on – upping my clay game this year, I have found myself held back.  Is it the still too-frequent days of no sunshine, is it the madness that this world has become and is sometimes impossible to bear just as outsider, is it my own fear of too many things? Like fear of failure, fear of being found out, fear of not being good enough…or perhaps it’s fear of success.  Being good, at whatever one does, is not the same as being good enough and vice versa.  Being good enough in comparison to others, is a cruel game to play on oneself...and it can take a lifetime to figure that out but eventually you realise that you needn’t play that game.  You go forth, be eccentric, do what makes you feel alive, and you will have been good at it.   

I wasn’t good at it when I made this first teapot donkey’s years ago.  I didn’t immediately think, “Oh, this is brilliant; my life is meant to be in clay, ergo I must pursue it.”  I mean, look at this thing!  But, hope springs eternal, and every so often I look at this teapot and remember why I keep it – because it planted a seed that’s just taken a lot of Springs to grow.

¹[Nishiyama Y. (2004). Su no Bunkashi [The Cultural History of Numbers], Keizaishi Kenkyu [Studies in Economic History], 8(2004), 146-174.]

Don't be sorry, just don't do it (again).

That was a favourite phrase of my Dad's, though my brother and I dispute the "again" at the end - it's how I remember it.  And I remember so many things - rightly or wrongly - which I can only hope that I remember forever.  Memory changes for everyone over time, but sadly it changed to a heart-breaking extent for my Dad with Alzheimer's.  I love this image of him in Spring of 2006; even as Alzheimer's was slowly strengthening its hold, he maintained his cheeky self.  I had a great relationship with my Dad, so we were close in that sense, yet I didn't really know him that well.  (Do children ever really know their parents?)  I was always seeking his approval, much like I think I know well enough that he did with his father; I just happened to be fortunate to have my father around.  So, if I didn't measure up, I took it oh-so-seriously...but was the pressure from him or from within?  Still, when I met the wonderful person and potter John Colbeck in 2014, I thought, oh, I like him, he reminds me so much of Dad!  Our interactions weren't much but just enough, allora (okay then) imagine my confident eagerness to learn from him as a mentor three years later.  But then almost from the start of Piccolpasso 2017, I hit a wall.  A nearly insurmountable, emotional wall.  It did not fully dawn on me until the end of our eight weeks that John was so much like my Dad, that I fell into (set myself up for?) the same dynamic in the relationship, upon which I didn't fully reflect until today.  Of course, I always want to be the best, but really, I just want to do well, to do right by my Dad (and John) for having had the privilege of knowing them.  Sorry, guys, I'll do better from now on.  Oops, sorry! 

One Thing and Another...

That was a favourite phrase of my beloved Grandma H. - she would say that to preface or conclude any sort of anecdote or observation.  As I observe 2017, I think of one thing...and another...and many others:  the opportunities presented to me, and the rewards granted in return.  Things worth having require work, ergo the work is worth doing; whether or not the outcome is a sure thing often remains to be seen.  I could not have foreseen all the outcomes, as they were not all the result of me and/or my doing, and for that I am truly grateful:  from being part of the first ever Dusk Dances Barrie with Simcoe Contemporary Dances, to making new connections for the branching out of "studio wendy", to being an Ontario Arts Council grant recipient to attend a mentored residency in Italy. 
Much like this couple strolling in San Gimignano, may your 2018 be full of health, happiness, and love - una cosa e di un'altra.

Arriving and leaving...and arriving

It was seven weeks ago today that I arrived in Italy in anticipation of an eight-week mentored residency at La Meridiana International School of Ceramics (with funding support of the Ontario Arts Council, which is gratefully acknowledged).  It has been time spent working and learning, such as you lose some...and you win some! One teapot - one of the visually best I've made - completely jettisoned off its handle and into the glaze bucket. Evidence of poor making; ergo, lesson learned.  This teapot is also one of the visually best teapots I've made.  By no means is it "perfect" (to one's own standard), yet it perfectly encompasses so many of the things that I've learned in the last seven weeks.  Both the making and the finishing are not at all my usual style:  a pulled handle, hot wax resist, a seated lid, scratched-through glazing, and not to mention a cracked rim deftly repaired-at-the-drying stage (by mentor John Colbeck).  It took an inordinate amount of time to get on track with my time and purpose here, to make "Purposeful Porcelain", but I shall leave next week having just arrived at where I next need to be.

Decisions, decisions...

There have been so many gems of wisdom imparted over these past few weeks, one of which is now posted at my workstation:  "Whatever you do, you've got to be decisive."  Well, isn't that oh so much easier said than done?!  Taking a ball of clay and knowing what you will make of it comes from more than just planning.  It comes from deciding, certainly not from dithering.  One of the first goals assigned to me came as "You're very meticulous; you need to be more "fluid". (fluid being quite different from "free")  Fluidity is not easy to accomplish, requiring a level of attention easily equal to that of being meticulous.  It has been a contemporaneous challenge with the three-minute throwing exercise, whereby you practise throwing basic shapes in three minutes.  Once you take heed to the challenge, you're struck by how much time there is in three minutes.  Not only do you learn an efficiency of process, you also acquire - if only the smallest modicum at first - an element of fluidity, because you made the decision to do so. 

First Day of School

As always when embarking on something new, it takes a day or two to really settle into it, even if you have what seems like a very clear vision of what you expect to effect from the task.  There is the getting to know the people, the surroundings, the materials, the procedures.  And maybe amidst all that is the getting to know yourself, that amidst all the "squirrel moments", you realise you might have a better handle on things than you think.  In his introductory talk for the Piccolpasso program at www.lameridiana.fi.it, John Colbeck spoke about the complexity of simplicity.  I may have only thrown two decent cups out of many attempts today, but I learned a tremendous heck of a lot.  Ergo, rather than pictures of the day in the studio, here is one of dinner:  valeriana inalata con pollo arrosto, ceci, e pomodori secchi sott'olio siciliana...and of course, a little something to drink.

 

It's the Thanksgiving holiday weekend here in Canada, the notion of which is a bit of a slippery slope in this hopefully enlightened time of truth and reconciliation.  Hopefully as well, though, may those of us (which is most of us) whose ancestors are from other lands, be truly, respectfully, and compassionately thankful to be on this land.

This weekend sees members of my pottery group having our annual show and sale, a change from our timing of late November.  It was a brilliant day, with marvelous people who'd not been aware of us but decided to stop in on their ways to and fro! There were familiar friends, too, who rounded out the day of good conversation and company, all in support of us as local artisans.  It was a day to be thankful, indeed, particularly after a bit of a figurative fall of my own at one point.  Most of us will slip and fall from time to time, in all manner of ways.  May we be thankful for those who are there to catch us.

How many parts make a whole?

"Each separate part was a simple fraction of the whole."  This is Da Vinci's "Vitruvian Man", as displayed in Napoli's Stazione Centrale in 2012.  I was reminded of the original sketch this weekend as we prepared to dance our community piece "Array" at Illuminate Barrie.  One might wonder if Da Vinci could have conceived of the impact of this image and the many purposes it serves.  This visual compels one to think spherically and laterally, to think not only physically but energetically.  Thinking in those terms has allowed for the many parts that have made this one incredibly whole Summer, from being involved with the choreographic creation of "Array" as part Simcoe Contemporary Dancers' presentation of Dusk Dances Barrie, to receiving an Ontario Arts Council grant for an upcoming ceramics residency in Italy, to seeing my niece and nephew play their guitar recital pieces, to catching up with old friends over a Raku firing.  Yes, this is all very me, me, me!  The thing is, it wouldn't be me without all those incredible people in all those parts around me, and for that, I am so very grateful.   

Musing and Mummenschanz

Earlier this year, I weighed in on a Facebook thread trying to analyse and hypothesise over a call for entry to a ceramics exhibition. More than half of those in the discussion thought the terms of proposal sounded rather high-minded, ergo it naturally warranted an in-kind submission. On a lark, I began crafting my statement – with a little inspiration from artybollocks.com – and many things came to mind. Foremost, it seems that a great many artist statements comprise many words and little substance. Perhaps that comes from a place of insecurity, of writer and/or reader. Or, perhaps it comes from my own insistence that my words, and my work, have substance.

Of course, I couldn’t craft a statement without an image – it was rather meditative to make patterns in soft clay spread out on a plaster drying table. And then it all came together as I was immediately reminded of Mummenschanz*, a Swiss theatre troupe that performs in silence. They appeared on The [original] Muppet Show with a performance of two characters communicating by means of molding and manipulating their face masks of clay. It was freaky and fantastic! It was also a lot of substance, without words.

Looking now at what I wrote, it was a good exercise, as it seems that the general intent of my practice is still there…it’s just buried amongst the words.

“Ode to Mummenschanz 2017 (in process, detail): porcelain with organic stain, thrown and altered, unfired
This work was inspired by recent studies into the consequence of the deconstruct of the ceramic medium as a metaphor for each of our own personal journeys across the vast expanse of life. Temporal derivatives become transformed through diligent and academic practice, leaving the viewer with an insight into the outposts of our culture. As a conduit for communication, the work resonates a most primal need of the human condition, to find the commonalities amongst us in bridging the inherent crevasse between the sublime and the ridiculous.”

(*Check them out! www.mummenschanz.com )

Focus redux

There seems to be ever so much happening these days, as has happened all the days for all time, in the world far and near. With that in mind, and with the sudden onset of Spring, what better time to revive and renew focus...especially since I have completely and shamefully - though not quite wholeheartedly - neglected the blog for over a year since my last post...which was about focus. Ergo, I am posting this moodily edited photo of a simple bowl in the process of being turned (trimmed), as the style and subject reflect where I am in life, clay and otherwise: dreamily out of focus, yet hardly without purpose. Life is not ours for the taking, it is ours for the making.

Focus Focus Focus!

So much for focus. The saying goes that we cannot see the forest for the trees yet sometimes it really is more that we cannot see the trees for the forest. If we’re supposed to think outside the box, see the big picture, imagine the grand scheme, then we lose sight of the fine print, the intricate pixels, the unique details that make up the greater vision. The plan – the focus – yesterday was to make several chawan or tea bowls, using a porcelain that is known not only as easier to work with (to which I can attest) than my beloved English porcelain but also less expensive. Win win, right?!? Uh, nope. After several attempts, I had two which were deemed moderately passable. I am not a quitter, I am a lazy perfectionist. BIG difference… So, I hastily wedged a few of the slumped failures and made a biscuit jar, which would have been more than passable were it not full of micro air bubbles. It seems my focus was thrown off (pun or no pun – you decide!) by finally really getting into this biography of Michael Cardew.

It is not an easy read due to the excrutiating minutiae – lots and lots of tiny, tiny trees. I left off yesterday at the point in 1942 as Cardew is about to set off from England for Achimota, the Gold Coast, Africa. Of late, I have been thinking ‘tis time I start planning to set off for England, to see from whence my paternal grandparents came, and oh to see all the pots and potteries. Could my parents have known my name means “wanderer”? While I haven’t wandered much, my mind is always wandering, through the trees. Maybe I just need to look a little more closely…

Looking back and paddling on.

There are those who live by the motto, “Don’t look back, you’re not going that way.” In many respects, this is quite agreeable, yet not always, because it is all quite subjective. Ultimately, it is more about how we look back, and what we do with that view. If we do not look back, how can we move on, propelled by the memories - whether one or many - of good things past? This has been the most amazing year of my life...so far! For that, I am truly grateful, so as I noted the anniversaries of the loss of both parents three years ago last month, I thought of the things I did not know, did not ask. But more importantly, I tried to honour the things I did know, to celebrate the things they shared, to thrive on all the good that has been since. To those who are having to cope with struggle or loss, particularly this time of year, my wish is one day, you will also be able to look back and paddle on with joy. Merry Christmas, everyone!

Near the end of the beginning...

A lot of mixed feelings today as the count is on for my residency to come to an end. The last few days have been spent puttering rather than pottering as I was reluctant to start any new work in case it could not be completed in time. The coming days will be busy enough - final group of work is being biscuit fired tomorrow. Then, after another review of my copious notes (there's a sententious word...positively pithy!), it will be a glazing and "salting" bender on Tue., load for final firing on Wed., unload and scribe more notes aplenty on Thu., and pack on Fri. *sigh* But it is hardly the end. Rather, it is the beginning - inizio. Nuovo inizio, to be more precise. While I had a clear plan and certain expectations, the time spent and the work that I have been so blessed to do (Step right up, folks! Get your clichés here!) truly has been more than I ever could have hoped or imagined. And while that initial feeling of exile (with a splash of guilt) in being away from family, friends, co-workers, has not completely gone away, it most certainly has taken on new value. Reading a lovely book today, "Lucie Rie & Hans Coper - Potters in Parallel", I found the following observation by one of the authors, Edmund de Wall: "To be exiled... You are existential: your lens is clear; you read your new surroundings with unclouded perception." Here's to everyone finding their beginning.

"Were you a Punk?"

It originated a few days earlier at pizza dinner. Pietro extended an invitation to the famous Pizzeria Maroni, so of course, I spiffy up by wearing my assorted rings. One of our little group was well-respected, much-admired (and incredibly humble) English potter, John Colbeck, who has also spent the last few weeks at La Meridiana. [How ever did I happen upon this good fortune?!?] John (first-name basis, no less...) noticed the rings and asked "Were you a Punk?" Crikey! I haven't been asked that since my faux-punk days of the, ahem, '80s New Wave. "Well, kind of", I replied. The question was positively answered a few days later when Pietro and John were conducting Raku firings for the other potter in residence. Ah, I love the smell of Raku in the morning, as my good studio mate, Mary Hastings, would say. So notes John: "Stick with porcelain." Me: "Oh, but I really like Raku." John: "Really?! That's the Punk in you." Yes! That's what is so brilliant about the possibilities of clay: so many different types of clays, forms, glazes, firings, purposes, aesthetics, let alone the assorted history of it all... It's as if pottery can offer nine lives, or at least two, much like Meenoo here, one of the gatti di casa: not quite lurking behind the leaves yet completely basking in the sunshine. Working with clay can allow for that duality of being and purpose: one can feel equally at home whether in the methodical control of functional porcelain or in the chaotic freedom of non-functional Raku. And that's my clay-punk story.

"The Tourist has returned!" [But I don't want to be a tourist!]

And so was the warm welcome (in quotes) from Pietro as I was back to the studio after a side-trip to Faenza (Region of Emilia-Romagna), ceramics capital of the world. Even if [you think!] you have no interest in ceramics whatsoever, and it takes two trains and over three and a half hours to get there from here, a visit is highly recommended, for Faenza è una città bella! Friendly people, good food, easy navigation, and best of all - hardly any tourists, at least this time of year! It was a bit jarring to be travelling again, going through Santa Maria Novella train station in Florence on the way there and back: "Who are all you people?!?" All of this made me really reflect on a discussion we had last week with Isabella, a ceramics teacher from Insituto Lorenzo di Medici, at La Meridiana with a group of students for the day. It was my good fortune to join them for lunch (prepared by the lovely Alessia, the office assistant), and we were talking about travel and Florence and how, once one has spent any time there, one can really want to call it "my Florence". Isabella observed (paraphrasing!): "You are not a tourist. Tourists come and go and try to see everything in a day but see nothing, because they're too busy taking photos, and trying to see everything. You are a traveller. A traveller takes time to experience the culture, to live in the culture." Yes, even though I have travelled little, I am a traveller. This had already come more clearly to light from the forward in the book, "Betty Woodman. Teatros. Théâtres. Theatres." (2005), which observes that "Any traveler in principle warrants a safe harbour." in discussing that potter's time split between homes in New York and Tuscany: "Two very special places...which evidently feed her creative force." I am blessed to have Ontario and Tuscany, the latter if only fleetingly but more than ever, always with me, travelling.

Elvis ha lasciato l'edificio...

Here is some of the work so far, now waiting for biscuit firing (digging the English terms used here!) Nothing out of the ordinary, save for it is quite different from my work at home. Not sure if it shows in the photo, but the one with the cup on its side in the middle shows how they have been super burnished with a metal rib to be shiny and smooth as marble. The prospect of finally decorating with the metallic salts is a bit daunting. And so, whilst having afternoon tea proffered by a well-known English potter working here for a few weeks, the other [recreational] potter in residence commented how unusual and rewarding it is to just spend the day, after day, working in clay. I wholeheartedly concurred, much - I think - to the surprise and/or delight of our founder, Pietro. "Yes, it's so great to really focus on what I'm doing, not putting pressure on myself. Instead, I work to really keep with my work/study plan, but as I work, new ideas are coming out of that. It's really great." Pietro nods in agreement, then goes to read a wall post about which I had forgotten. He says that he is the author - he is certainly the author of its location on the wall (!): "When you start working, everybody is in your studio - the past, your friends, enemies, the art world, and above all your own ideas. But as you continue, they start leaving one by one, and you are left completely alone. Then, if you're lucky, even you leave!" Like Elvis so famously did, I think I have left the building.

Lessons Learned

Lesson one of this pottery adventure (you know how I loathe the word "journey"), is that one who wears glasses would do well to carry one of those emergency eyeglass repair kits. Yes, not even completed week one, and a nose pad popped off yesterday. Fortunately, there was an un officio ottico open in the nearby town of Castelfiorentino, and presto! good as new, and no charge! It was market day in the town - I can hear Diane Lane's voice narrating about the scene in Cortona early in the film, "Under the Tuscan Sun". (Lesson two is that November really is a rainy month, and there have been devastating effects in parts of Tuscany.) And what a great market: vendor stalls of frutta e verdura, formaggio, arrosti, pesce, various household items, clothes & accessories (of various quality, though some quite good - didn't need to twist my arm!), and best of all, it was spread over and around a couple of piazzas entirely una zona pedonale. It was my good fortune to make this trip to the market with the lovely Giuliana Rodolfi, who was an integral part of the origin of La Meridiana (with founder & life-time director, Pietro Maddalena), and whom I just met this week. She offered to take me and another potter in residency on this outing from "the monastery" as they call it (?!), for it is considerably quieter than during the hectic days of rotating one and two-week workshops that run most of the year. But back to Castelfiorentino! First stop was at a bar for colazione or breakfast, consisting of the freshest croissant con crema known to this person, and a cappuccino. Lessons three, four and five: (3) We need "bars" like this in Canada! There is something quite special in partaking of a such a commonplace activity. "Going for coffee" just doesn't cut it. (4) Three croissants and three cappuccino's cost a grand total of 6 euro. SIX EURO! It costs almost the CDN $ equivalent of that for only one such breakfast back home. (5.1) I already learned these lessons, but they're worth the second, intense look; and (5.2) Sometimes, the most productive thing is to simply enjoy a croissant and cappuccino while taking in the atmosphere, and feeling just for that little while, that you are part of a community, one that can seem so foreign yet so alluringly familiar. (5.3) Be in the moment. Yes, it is so cliche, but that's because it's true, and thus, no photos of market day. Instead, a Tuscan terrazzo. Last lesson for today is to emphasize simply enjoy, whether those words be used separately or together. Live simply, enjoy fully. A dopo! (Later!)

Expect the Possible

It has been an amazing start to Fall, given that it has finally felt like Summer for six - count 'em - six days in a row! And what better what to cap off the week than with a weekend of Culture Days/Carnegie Days/simply good days. As the countdown begins in earnest to my residency at La Meridiana (seeing as I've only been counting since I got the go-ahead back in January...), I'm finally reading Bernard Leach's "A Potter's Book". To wit: 'A pot thrown on a good wheel with responsive clay...is impressed and expressed...and coaxed though a series of rhythmic movements, which like those of a dance are all related and interdependent.' What a great quote to sum up a weekend of productivity at the pottery studio, interspersed with yet another wonderful program by Simcoe Contemporary Dancers at the maclarentARTcentre. How fortuitous to have two passions once again compliment each other, spending time with friends and peers alike. I never had delusions (okay, not entirely...) of a career as a professional dance artist, nor as a professional ceramic artist, but to be able to live the former vicariously while embarking on the latter potentially, is something not to be taken lightly yet taken so gratefully. Once one realises that there is nothing greater than to expect the possible, the possibilities are infinite.

New Season, New Work.

Here it is, middle of March, finally...already?! And three weeks till we open a Spring show & sale of work by a pottery studio mate, Mary Hastings, and myself. Lots of work to do, which includes making time to keep this blog going! Funny (or not) though, how since typing is communicating one's thoughts rather than talking, it seems to be equally aggravating to a sore throat. So, for today, just a couple images of new porcelain pots fresh out of the kiln last week.

Medieval wall in Certaldo Alto, July 2013 - a welcome change of scenery from Ontario in February!