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! 

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.

 

Is that all there is?

Settling in to tutti zone (all areas):  time, weather, culture...  As I sat on a ledge earlier today in Piazza S. Iaocopo & Filippo, eating a somewhat flavourless panino di pomodoro e formaggio (if that's possible) (And yes, ONE sandwich is a panino, NOT a panini - take THAT Tim Hortons et al.!), it would have been impossible not to savour every bite, infused as each was with the flavour of the time, weather, and culture by which my humble sandwich and I were surrounded.  It was more than a moment of reflection after my shopping spree, as a fitful walk to the coop (supermarket) yielded a necessary bounty:  shampoo, chocolate, and socks.  Afterwards, I scored another windfall of pens and carta trasparente (transparent paper, which fortunately the shopkeeper figured out from my attempt to describe tracing paper as "carta di cipolla pelle" - skin onion paper).  They say that the shopping in Italy is fantastic; it's all there is and more.

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 )

Perspective...

Perspective seems to invite a study unto itself: Where have I been...and where am I going? What have I done...and what will I do? It's all about viewpoints and vantage points - two similar yet separate concepts, a thing and a place. I often see the medieval Tuscan town of San Gimignano referred to as "the medieval Manhattan". Should it not be that Manhattan is "the modern San Gimignano"? I did not get the name of the artist of the figurative sculpture - or the sculpture itself - that rested atop one of San Gimignano's towers, but it has a great view...or do I have the better? Things that make you go "hmmmm"!

A picture is...

worth so much more than a thousand words.  Have been meaning for far too long to get more family photos into Dad's room - his Alzheimer's has him far past the stage of any likely recognition, but it's always back in there somewhere.  Dance classes today provided lots of imagery to play with and I actually took it with me for further exploration.  As is usually the case, really enjoyable ballet & contemporary classes, but especially for the energy brought back from NYC from friends/teachers!  Trying to get out of my head and into the music - that's we learned today.  "It's not just dancing to the music, it's dancing in the music."  Can I pull a Charlie Sheen here (now that's a loaded statement) and say, "well duh, winning!".  Really, though, we can apply the dance lesson to all aspects of life.  Even doing the creative things we enjoy, be it making dance or making pots, it's not just about the making, it's about the being.  Like planning a trip - suddenly you find you're no longer thinking about - you're on it, you're in it.  Tomorrow at the studio, I shall be in the clay... hopefully something other than myself comes out of it.