Creating Modern Day Artifacts

Visit Shanna Wheelock's website

 

 

Machias Women's Forum presents

Spirituality in Women's Art

 

 

Presenters: Sherry Ashby Cunningham, Elizabeth Ostrander, and Shanna Wheelock

Thursday, March 21, 2013

in the meeting room at Helen's Restaurant, Machias

Dinner from the menu at 5:30 p.m., presentation at 6:30 p.m.

Although this is the Women's Forum, men are encouraged to attend this special event!

Click here for more info.

 

 

 

 

Art Workshops

With Instructor Shanna Wheelock

Lubec, Maine

Clay Goddess: April 17

Introduction to Encaustic Painting: July 10

For more info, send an inquiry here.

 

 

 

 

 The corner of my drawing table.

Note the old Grumbacher box.

This is the same box that years ago held my mom's drawing charcoal.

 

 

"The Nook"

 I have been spending most of my time here lately

 working out ideas, sketching, reading, researching, and designing workshop fliers.

 

 

I completed nine ink drawings in the "Factory C"series and have now begun to transcribe them onto clay. 

 

 

Some things to keep in mind....

 

 

So many things happen in a week that it is hard to keep track of it all. I am in a mad flurry of art activity as the obsession with Factory C grows. I have felt an urgency to get the ideas down and this week that all began to make sense. I heard a tidbit of news that the dilapidated remains may, in part, be removed. Though I understand the safety issues with a building in such a state, I am saddened at the thought of anything changing by the hands of humans. Until now, the building's condition has been at the whim of the natural elements and the result has been one that exudes a silent and powerful sense of reverence. As my work unfolds over the next few months, I hope to capture some of that feeling in ink, clay, and wax, not only for my own creative self-indulgence, but also to serve as some sort of historical modern-day artifact.

 

This past week's agenda contained a sprinkling of business, health, spiritual, and art meetings along with a talk that Elizabeth Ostrander and I presented at The Eastport Arts Center.  I am always a bit  nervous before speaking in public. Even with more than thirteen years teaching under my belt this feeling has never gone away. I was comforted by the peaceful ambiance of the center and the presence of a few familiar and friendly faces in the crowd. For my portion of the presentation I had created a slide show of some of the key women in my life who have somehow contributed to my development as an artist. Though I focused on only a handful of women, there are in fact so many more who deserve mention. Listening to Elizabeth's account of her art experiences and journey that has sustained her through seventy years of art-making, I realized that my forty-three years on this planet has been eased and benefited by all the women who came before me, who fought for their place in what has traditionally been a "man's world." I am fortunate to have men in my life, as well, who have supported my journey, men who have broken through the traditional roles and stereotypes to value women's contributions to the art world and life in general.

 

The next few days I will prepare for my MFA seventh semester's residency, spend time with creative friends, and work on another "talk". Along with two other artists, Sherry Ashby Cunningham and Elizabeth Ostrander, I will present at the Machias Women's Forum on March 21. The topic is spirituality in women's art. I am still gathering my thoughts for this presentation as it will differ from last week's talk in Eastport. Right now the thought is that I will focus primarily on my fiber works. But we'll see. A lot can change in my mind over the course of four days.

 

No doubt some are singing Irish folk songs, eating boiled cabbage, and drinking green beer by the time they read this blog entry, being St. Patty's Day and all. My Celtic roots are strong but I will most likely be found in the studio with hands steeped in gritty mud. My internal clock, still adjusting to the time change, finds me in bed an hour longer than usual most days but burning the midnight oil to get the work done. Though the temps dipped again this week, there is a feeling of spring in the air. Foolish to think such thoughts perhaps. The calendar suggests that Spring Equinox arrives soon, but local meteorology threatens snow. Several inches. Plowable.

Back to the Drawing Table

 Sunday, March 10, 2013
Women's Art: A Conversation with Elizabeth Ostrander and Shanna Wheelock
3:00 p.m.at the Eastport Arts Center
36 Washington Street, Eastport, Maine
Click here for Shanna Wheelock's website.
Click here Elizabeth Ostrander's website
Click here for the Eastport Art Center website.

 

 

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Machias Women's Forum

5:30-8:00 p.m.

Helen's Restaurant, Machias, ME

Presenters: Shanna Wheelock, Elizabeth Ostrander, and Sherry Ashby Cunningham

Topic: How Spirituality informs and inspires our artwork

Save the date and check back for more info.

 

 

Been drawing images of "Factory C" 

(Shanna Wheelock, Lubec, Maine)

 

 

Factory C

(Lubec, Maine)

 

 

Interior View of "Factory C"

(Shanna Wheelock, Lubec, Maine)

 

Photo of "Factory C"

(Lubec, Maine)

 

Back in early college years my ceramics professor told me that being able to draw is a critical skill, even for a potter. Though I enjoyed drawing I fumbled around quite a bit. The fine arts program leaned on the heavy side of drawing credits and for that I am thankful. From those years I developed a love of figure drawing and conte. Drawing for me, though, is one of those things that gets put to the side when there are dozens of mugs or a sculpture needing to be done. I do genuinely love to draw, and just as with weaving or clay work, I can get lost for hours in shading and line.

 

Soon after I visited the ruins at Factory C, I knew that I wanted to draw the images that were burned so deeply in my mind. What I didn't account for was that it had been at least three years since I had picked up a drawing tool to do a serious drawing.

 

I was a bit apprehensive as my logical self laid out ideas for matching paper sizes and a grouping of drawings all executed in one material. I soon realized that I was far more rusty with my drawing skills than previously thought. A few rough starts in pencil then grumblings with shading and tendencies toward detail even thought the material was not well suited for that, I forged onward. A mix of pleasure and pain, if you will. I eventually got into my groove and reminded myself that I don't need to have it all figured out before the first line is even drawn.

 

Four drawings later, I am starting to find my zone and zero in on what I'd like to do. The first few drawings are like getting back to the wheel after a few months away. At first it feels awkward but eventually the hands remember the right pressure and speed. Drawing is meditative in the same was as clay or fiber, and messy in its own right.

 

I plan to use the drawings as a means to an end. They will be studied, dissected, enlarged, then transferred in some fashion. Right now I just catch glimpses of a plan in mind's eye. As with most of my projects, I don't know the end result until I know the end.

 

Drawing can be addictive but right now I have quite a few things to juggle so that obsession will have to be squeezed into allotted blocks of time over the next few weeks. I just spent the past two weeks fully immersed in the factory study from clay work to drawing, ruin site visits, time at the library, and online research. I took a small hiatus from the bulk of meetings that I normally attend and other semi-social functions for that focus, but the roster is once again full and I am at that moment in the calendar year where I take a deep breath, hold up my feet, and move full steam ahead. The next few months until January 2014 are blocked with commissions, vending, stocking shops, speaking engagements, workshops, MFA classes, farmer's market, and community work with Lubec Arts Alive and (newly added) committee work for the Schoodic International Sculpture Symposium project.  (YES! It looks like Lubec, in most high probability, will be one of the 2014 sites! I'll post updates as I know them.)

 

Happy Birthday Mom!

 

 

We just returned from the Samoset where we celebrated my mom's 70th birthday with a lovely evening out on the town. The visit was too short but ended on a fun note with mom and Chris singing all kinds of songs from the 50's. Let's just say that Elvis was one of the faves and when the first line of Hound Dog began the two of them were twisting across the room while belting out the lyrics. It sure was a sight! I hope that I am this energetic and free-spirited at seventy. Crossing my fingers those genes are well ingrained. Thanks, Mom, for forty three years of unconditional love and nurturing, and thank you for being such a wonderful guide and supporter of my artist self.

 

In the downeast area this coming weekend?

 

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Women's Art: A Conversation with Elizabeth Ostrander and Shanna Wheelock

3:00 p.m.at the Eastport Arts Center

 

While I was in Rockland and tooling around the streets, I came upon this lovely mermaid resting contently in a window box along Main Street. This is the work of Elizabeth Ostrander, an Eastport artist with whom I will share the stage this coming Sunday as we present a talk at the Eastport Arts Center.

 

Mermaid by Elizabeth Ostrander

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

Water, Wind, and Time

 

Sunday, March 10, 2013
Women's Art: A Conversation with Elizabeth Ostrander and Shanna Wheelock
3:00 p.m.at the Eastport Arts Center
36 Washington Street, Eastport, Maine
Click here for Shanna Wheelock's website.
Click here Elizabeth Ostrander's website
Click here for the Eastport Art Center website.


Thursday, March 21, 2013
Machias Women's Forum
5:30-8:00 p.m.
Helen's Restaurant, Machias, ME
Presenters: Shanna Wheelock, Elizabeth Ostrander, and Sherry Ashby Cunningham
Topic: How Spirituality informs and inspires our artwork
Save the date and check back for more info.


 Click here for a recent article about the marathon and my artwork in the Bangor Daily News

Check out Maine artist Kenny Cole's blog about his current project "Parabellum".
Chris is collaborating on part of the project. Very cool!
 

 

Factory C (or Columbian Canning Plant?) Located behind the old Columbian Store , Lubec, Maine

I have been photographing these ruins for a current art project.

Click here to see photo of what it once looked like.

 

Another shot of the factory ruins.

 

 

I collected bricks from the American Can Factory site, North Lubec, and am experimenting with pulverizing the fragments and embedding the dust into clay.

 

 

Just a few days after winter storm NEMO, our big boy Bello Shroom was outside enjoying the sunny day melt-off.

 

 

I found a recipe that clued me in on how to fry tofu perfectly. No batter involved - just straight up tofu and sesame seeds in olive oil. It is so yummy that we have eaten a version of this three times in the past four or five days.

 

 

2013 Bay of Fundy Marathon

 

Click here for an Article about the marathon and my work in the Bangor Daily News

 

Awards are coming along for the Bay of Fundy Marathon. I am giving my wrists a break for a week before tackling the next group of pieces which will be the most intricate and complex of the bunch. These are the tumblers that will be awarded to the teams in the 10k and marathon.

 

If you are traveling to Lubec during the marathon be sure to book your accommodations sooner rather than later. I know that as of this morning, Away Downeast still has a couple awesome and affordable cottage available.

 

For a more comprehensive list of B&B's and motels, etc, check out the VisitLubecMaine website.

 

If you still need help finding accommodations, contact the Bay of Fundy Marathon organizers for suggestions.

 

 

Thinking maybe I should change my blog title to "Food, Cats and Art." That seems to sum up most days here in our little nook in the far reaches of the country. The past couple weeks have been fulfilling on all fronts. Chris and I have our super busy times where we find ourselves on the road to various readings, exhibits, meetings, or family events, but other times we are able to find these stretches where retreating to our respective work spaces is unfettered by outside distractions.

 

I set aside one week to (almost) fully dedicate to the beginning stages of a new art project. Most weeks I am juggling a little bit of "this" and little bit of "that" but this week I wanted to be able to solidify some ideas. For an artist to have that time without outside distractions is worth the weight of any hefty item in gold.

 

I had been waiting for the right conditions to visit the ruins of an old factory site here in Lubec. On Friday I finally had the opportunity. I needed compliant weather, tide, and Chris. I had never been to the site before and was unsure how approachable it would be. It is not a safe space by any stretch with the massive deterioration but was in better condition than I had expected. I snapped over a hundred photos that have been filed and later this morning I will begin printing them to use as inspiration in both clay, conte, and encaustic.

 

I am excited by my level of excitement. When I got to the ruins close-up, I swear my heart skipped a beat. Something resonated with me so strongly on such a deep level. With some things in our lives, we don't always understand our reactions, but over time, clarity begins to come forth presenting the bigger picture. For me, with this site visit, I started to understand some of the images that had been emerging in my work over the past couple years. At the time of creating those works, or even recently seeing images in my mind but not being able to translate, this one afternoon allowed all kinds of connections to be realized. The images, understandings, and connections is only in the most infantile stage but at the precipice of unfolding in a most profound way. I can feel it.

 

It is amazing to look at these ruins and to know that this is not a war-torn village and that these walls and ceilings are not collapsed because of bombs. Merely, it is water, wind, and time that has eroded the structure. Such awesome power in the elements.

 

Looking at these ruins, even though used for a period of time and when no longer profitable abandoned and left succumb to the elements, there is beauty and reverence. The energy is still. In some ways, a ghostly still. But also, a reverent stillness. Pier stubs emerge from the sand like gravestones. Columns, broken, and slanted, lean against one another like Stonehenge dolmens. Slabs of concrete hang from steel rods exposing an opening in the ceiling that is a gateway to infinite sky. Every square foot guards a memory or story.

 

At the moment, my mind is buzzing with ideas. This part of the process takes a while for me to decipher. Images snap through mind's eye and it is an art in snagging the right one that can carry and artist through from conception to artwork. My cave is warming up now, waiting me to begin this journey.

Waiting on Irene

When Chris went outside to secure the grill in case of heavy winds, the rain had quelled to a smattering of drops. Once he began the task, however, a torrential downpour stirred. Yes...I thought it was funny....and....I told him he could NOT come inside until I got a good picture for the blog!

Set of four tall tumblers.

An official Cobscook Pottery website is in the works, but in the meantime, I will continue to post a few items on Etsy.



Bouli thought that she should help with the photo shoot for the Etsy site.

The mug is sold "sans Bouli".

I guess it takes a storm to bring on a day of relaxation! Quiche, peanut butter cookies, blueberry muffins, and zucchini-carrot bread have been baked. The house is clean and smells like warm toasty cinnamon. It all feels pretty mellow and homey. Yesterday was quite a few hours of prep including cleaning out the barn so that the car could be put away safe. I think that Chris has gone into "survival mode". Yesterday he cooked and dehydrated a huge batch of "Sierra Pasta" which he proudly packaged and stored away in the freezer this morning.



The impending storm has been the impetus to get a few things done around here. I even got into the garden to pluck the ripened goodies which are now washed and drying on the kitchen counter. If the storm hits, we have good food. If it doesn't, we still have good food! The cats are hunkering down with us, null in the begging department for outdoor activity. So far, we have had torrential downpours and thunder much of the late morning into early afternoon, but the "tropical storm" is not expected to hit until later this evening. Talk about a dramatic re-entry into the school year!



This past week felt most like vacation than any other week this past summer. Like most teachers, I have a summer job that keeps me preoccupied. The shop has been busy with customers visiting from all reaches of the country, Canada, and even Europe. Between tending shop and pottery production, I was hoppin', but this past week was a bit of an exhale as we had the blueberry festival vending behind us and we had slotted in some enjoyable activities. After a day of Chris and I basically sitting around in a comatose state from exhaustion, we recuperated enough to visit Geer and Pat for homemade waffles (I admit it, we beg them for these waffles every year!). It's always good to catch-up and participate in lively conversation. After our stomach-bulging brunch, Chris and I headed into Machias for a kayak excursion. There is a stream that we hadn't tried in a couple years so we gave that a whirl. It proved to be quite enjoyable and perhaps is now on my list of top fave kayak locations. We ventured off on an inlet and came upon a clay bed which was fascinating. There were plenty of tiny fish, and a few larger ones jumping, as well as a frog or two near the waterlilies. The dragonflies were flitting about and the geese, though slightly annoyed by us, didn't budge much at all as we floated by. We even saw a beaver slink down into the water and found plenty of smaller trees that had succumbed to its teeth-carving carpentry.



I spent the middle of the week cleaning the pottery cave (as much as it can be cleaned!) and then set-up the photo tent to get images of recent pottery work. My hope is that an official Cobscook Pottery website will be up and running this fall, but decided that in the meantime I would upload a few items to my Etsy site which has been void of pottery for some months now. I might try to snap a few more shots of work this week to upload, though I suspect I will have my hands full with setting up my classroom and welcoming students back.



My job teaching job changes dramatically this year. I will return to school as a half-time art teacher. This is a huge change for me as I have been teaching full-time for the past fourteen years. I am embracing the extra time to dive into my sculptural work and to grow the pottery business. I spent a lot of time this summer working out the details and game plan of how to proceed forward in my life as an artist. There is no time like the present to go after your dreams!



I hope that all my readers on the east coast have fared well and safe throughout the storm. And for those still awaiting Irene's arrival....take care!

Blank Canvas

Dumping the loam

Preparing to plot a garden

Last summer our yard was battered-around during construction and this spring we were left with a mound of gravel and sprouts of field grass in scattered clumps. Attempts at dropping grass seed didn't yield any improvement. I even tried mowing "the desert" a couple weeks ago. I don't recommend such action to anyone else in our same predicament. The dust was clouding around me and rocks were flying. Perhaps more of a battlefield than anything else!

"Plan B" went into action a few days ago. I arranged for a loam delivery, having been told that this is what we would need to do should we want grass, in any recognizable pattern, ever again.

It's always exciting when big equipment pulls up the drive. I managed to grab the camera just in time to catch the truck bed lift-up and dump. Bello ran and hid, fearful of any big booming noises. Carl then got into his little yellow tractor and pushed the dirt around the hill we call our front yard.

Before all these changes, we had a five foot wide swath of grass bordered by phlox, digitalis, valerian, rose bush, lilies, primrose, and peony. It was sad to lose these plants last summer, a casualty of the excavation equipment. But this spring, remnants of the yard-past keep popping up in new places. The phlox is peeking through in varied spots and the digitalis is now lining the driveway. Chris planted a new rose bush a few weeks ago, and I am waiting with anticipation to see where the primrose will surface, or if we will ever see the ancient peony again.

Yesterday yielded gorgeous blue skies and near tropical (by Lubec standards!) temps. I was eager to get outside to work in the yard but the day's chores of pottery, paperwork, and prepping for guests kept me inside. After company left at 6:00, the weather was still holding and I decided that I would take advantage. I spent a couple hours raking out the big clumps of loam to create some sort of smooth grass-growing surface. And now....

I am staring at a blank canvas.

"Plan C": Plant a veggie and herb garden.

I know this is common for most everyone else, but in our nine years of living in Lubec, Chris and I have not planted a garden. A friend, whom we consider a master gardener, offered-up some seedlings. So, here we go.

Chris and I had a very successful garden in Tennessee, but the previous homeowner had preened the soil just-so. All we had to do was turn the earth and plop in plants and seeds. Not even a bit of fertilizer. Here, contending with a big pile of gravel, there is much more prep work to do. But since we needed the loam...why not just go for it? So, in the car waits chicken wire, manure, and a hoe.

This will be an adventure for certain, an experiemnt to see what plants we will be capable of growing in this windy coastal climate, and what critter-casualties will occur. It goes against my better visual/aesthetic senses to put chicken wire in the front yard....but I am thinking a trade-off of fresh cherry tomatoes, basil, and squash is pretty good. The rabbit and the fawn will just have to look at the fresh produce with envy.

We see this year's garden as an experiment to better prepare us for next summer. Should our garden grow, we will look into purchasing canning equipment and trying our hand at that. Hopefully some local friends will take pity on our lack of knowledge and offer to teach us the tricks of the trade. Side-note: Is it hard to make and can apple sauce?

I am anxious to get my hands into the rich soil. Gardening gives me that same peaceful feeling I get when working with clay.

I'm glad that I did my raking last night. The rain is starting to fall this morning, making for a quiet grey day here in downeast Maine. I'll take advanatage of the indoor time to trim yesterday's pots and continue work on a new project. It's good reflective time.

In the meantime, are there any "must-knows" for us before the seedlings get planted? Sage advice from master gardners? I couldn't find zucchini or summer squash seedlings, will seeds work just fine this late in the season?

Arts and Healing a Catalyst for Small Town Renaissance

McGinley Jones, of Twilight Therapeutics, with one of her crystal bowls

McGinley surrounded by crystal bowls

Clay work in progress in the new studio.


Living in Lubec has been an experience like no other. It has presented some of the greatest challenges of my life, but also brought to me some of the most beautiful gifts.

The first few years that we lived here, I was eager to make the great escape. It wasn't at all like the Maine that I was accustomed to.

The word "downeast" conjures images of the idealistic coastal life. Tourists think of Bar Harbor and make the assumption that all of Maine's "beautiful rugged coast" is accompanied by an upper class arts-enriched culture. Even growing up in Maine, I thought no different.

It was a shock for us as the U-Haul passed Machias, rolling down Rte. 1, bringing into view deteriorated roads, dilapitated homes, and few businesses. We arrived to our new living space, never having been here before, sat on the worn and listing deck, watched a white coyote cross the road, and marveled at the gorgeous view, smell of salt air, and sounds of gulls.

If I could have kept myself in that moment of peace and beauty, perhaps it would not have been so difficult a transition. Nonetheless, it was culture shock. Working in the local school system, I came to know the families and their struggles of living in a once-thriving industrial mecca to what was currently a near ghost-town existence with dwindling populations and lack of jobs. Fate had dealt at times an ugly hand for those who had lived and worked here for generations.

As with many small towns that once relied on factories for their livelihood, there is a time of rock-bottom despair, followed by a renaissance.

Chris and I have lived here just over eight years now, and we have been watching the changes take place. It is bittersweet on many levels. We empathize with the people who fear and don't want change, but once that door is opened, there seems to be no going back.

For me, this renaissance feels hopeful. I see an infusion of pride returning as artists begin to bring their innovative touch. It is this insurgence of the arts that makes me feel like this is home. My first few years living in Lubec, I desperately longed for camaraderie with other artists, galleries, live music, and a general eclectic way of life. I also, very deeply, longed for a healing arts community.

Long before we moved here, Chris' grandfather would often say to us, "Lubec is a wonderful place for an artist and a writer." Wooed by that, we took the plunge and moved here on three weeks' notice. The first few years, I didn't fully acknowledge Gramp Richard's wisdom and insight. I never would have thought, eight, or even five, years ago that I would have this new understanding: that this IS the perfect place for an artist and a writer.

Hindsight, I do not think that Chris would have grown as he has with his writing, and I would not have become the artist that I am becoming. All those things I missed about my former home, they are now blooming here before my eyes. I have found an incredible artist community, am blessed with an inspiring new studio space, and am surrounded with miracles of nature every day. I smell the salt air in the summer, watch the eagles soar, fox frolic in the front yard, feel the extreme stillness of winter, and create like I have never before created in my life.

The final missing component for me was the healing arts community. Like with the artists here, the true gems are often tucked away. Slowly, the emergence is beginning. It is a new concept for those who have lived here for generations, but also, on some level, part of their innate knowing of how to heal with the land and spirit.

Eight years ago, a few days before we loaded our U-Haul to embark on our journey from Knoxville, Tennessee to Lubec, Maine, I found a pamphlet about Lubec. It listed a potter named McGinley Jones. I decided to phone her and ask questions about the arts community, and to hopefully make a connection with a fellow artist. It turned out that she was no longer practicing pottery, and as life got more and more hectic, we never found the time to get to know one another until recently.

This new friendship forging gives me another level of hope: that the healing arts community is growing here, or rather, finally coming into the light. For me, this is my own personal renaissance of my spiritual self, which has at times been dormant since moving here.

McGinley is a gifted massage therapist and reiki practitioner. In the past year, she added crystal bowl sessions to her repertoire. It is exciting for me to see this new level of the healing arts enter this area. A few nights ago, I was honored to play hostess for one of McGinley's session in the new studio, which I would like to add, has amazing acoustics!

We were a small group, sprawled out on the floor, resting as we listened to McGinley "play" the nine bowls, each one a different musical note. It is a gift for me, who is normally in such high gear, to be still for an hour and to just "experience" complete peace.

I am not an expert on exactly how these bowls affect us on a cellular or energetic level, but I know one thing...Bello the cat was profoundly affected! He rolled around, flirting and begging attention, giddy and cute as I have never seen him before. So, if it made Bello feel that good, I can only imagine how continued sessions of this sort can positively affect a person.

It has been quite a fulfilling week here for me: drawing group, clay sculpting, and crystal bowls with a phenomenal healing arts practitioner.

Who'da thunk it, right here in little ol' Lubec.



To read an older post about the arts in this region, refer to this link:
http://shannawheelock.blogspot.com/2009/07/arts-gorwing-in-lubec.html

New Year, New Beginnings

Progress being made in the basement. Started out with a messy sawdust pile, wood scraps, equipment, boards, and a pile of tools and supplies.....now a plastic-sheeted room ready for more mess to be made!

Holidays have passed and this last day of school vacation has me feeling mellow and pleased with the past week's accomplishments. As it goes with vacation time, the sleep-in hour gets later and later. I rolled out of bed at 9:00 a.m. after an eleven-hour slumber. This is nearly unheard of for me, as I am usually up before daylight breaks and taking advantage of the still creative time. But the longer I have off from work, the later the sleep-ins get. Yesterday wore me out physically. By bedtime, I wasn't sure I would be able to get myself vertical long enough to get up the stairs to the bedroom!

The day began with four straight hours of emails, phone calls, and downloads. A documentary is being made about last summer's Lubec Arts Alive and I need to acquire multiple images from the artists involved. Sounds simple, but with various digital requirements, requests, and thirteen artists in total....it is a lengthy process. We are fortunate to have Jon Wing Lum, a talented film-maker, on board for this project. I am eager to see the final result and hopefully it will be finished in time to debut at a public event this coming spring!

After a lull emerged in the onslaught of emails, I headed into the new basement to begin set-up for the pottery studio. Originally I had planned to have the pottery on the main floor - but this space (from which I am writing now) is so pristine and sacred-feeling that I decided it should be reserved for the less messy endeavours of weaving, drawing, and workshops. So off the the basement I went.

I actually enjoy working in such a environment, which seems quite a contradiction for me since I am one who needs my space "just so" in order to begin a project. But, my beginnings with clay at USM were in such a space, deep underground in the Robie-Andrews building. I remember the "long" walk down through the concrete-lined halls into the gray, cement-walled rooms, dirty, dusty, still, and lit by overhead flourescent lights. Not glamorous by any means, but it felt right. Maybe it is because clay comes from the earth, and what better place to work with clay than deep in it.

My father had planned to be here this weekend to work on more trim and doorway installation in the new addition. As it turned out, this storm that started Thursday evening proved to be too dangerous for travel. So, the wood that we had planned to use is still being stored in the basement. On a tight schedule and needing the clay studio ready for the MFA projects to begin, the first task on hand down there involved moving several boards from the right side of the room to the left. A mere three feet or less of movement, but awkward and heavy. Have you ever tried maneuvering 14 foot boards through 8 foot openings?

With careful calculation (and Chris' help!) the task was completed. Then I was left for a few hours on my own to strategically set-up the space for optimum production. Organiziation just happens to be one of my skills, and already I had been planning the placement of things in my mind for several weeks. My muscles got a workout as the heavy shimpo wheel was moved around, tables placed, glazes piled, and plastic hung.

Yes, plastic. The new clay studio eerily resembles a scene from Showtime's Dexter. In an attempt to isolate heat into the work area, I sectioned off a 12'x18' space with plastic sheeting. It is quite cold down there and am thinking the heat might be less likely to bolt for the high-ceilinged stairwell. I have a second heater on order. It is a tricky thing to plan out the heating for this space since I can have no blowers. Flying clay dust is extremely hazardous to one's health!

So - at this moment in time, the basics are set-up. After the student art show opens on Wednesday, and between storms, I hope to get to Calasis to buy some remnant linoleum from Marden's. This will be placed under the main work area in an attempt to make clean-up easy, or, more easy than having to clean up slop from concrete floors. That's the hope anyway. Then, another work table, clay organization, and I think I am good to go.

Today - I will try to recoup my energy for a hectic day of teaching and artwork-hanging tomorrow. I have some brain-type activities that need my attention: reading a book for the MFA program and more downloads and emails to tend to.

Holidays were a blast and it was wonderful to spend time with family. January, which is usally quiet time for me, is looking to be off-the-wall crazy with all kinds of activity: student art show, Chris heads to California, Mom visits, and the clay and fiber projects begin for the Heartwood MFA program. The new studio will be in full production, upstairs and down! It is also being used for monthly winter crystal bowl healing sessions and live figure drawing sessions with a beautifully full-bellied pregnant model.

January is typically my hibernation time. Seems that trend is coming to an abrupt end.

First Full Day in the New Studio

Worked in the new studio all day planning for a five month long sculptural project

Today I write from the new studio space. I admit that it has been a slow process moving myself in here, not only physically, but psychologically. The space is wide open, scarce in decoration, and so pristine. What if I don't create a masterpiece? What if I mess up this gorgeous new bamboo floor? What if...what if...what if....

I came in here about 10:00 a.m this morning, lugging from storage my old drafting table that has not been used in well over a dozen years. I spent the first two hours cleaning dirt and clay from the legging, then sweeping the floor, and washing windows. Methodically, I was preparing myself for the work ahead. In my mind whirled possible ideas for my first MFA class proposal.

Now that six hours has passed, I don't want to leave. The ambiance is extremely conducive to creativity. The drafting table is placed in front of an eight foot wide sliding glass door, from which I watched two eagles and a hawk soar overhead today. I spent time (nearly nodding off!) reclining on the futon in the little nook, wrapped in a comforter, smelling the candle scents of warm apple pie and sugar cookies, and listening to the "spa" channel on satellite radio. I time thumbed through art books and sketched possible ideas for a five month-long concentration in a series of my choosing.

I am excited to begin working on my Master of Fine Arts. I was accepted into the new low residency program at Heartwood College of Art, in Kennebunk, Maine. It is the first program of its kind in the state (and only one of two MFA programs for visual arts in Maine) that will allow me to keep my full time teaching schedule as well as be a student.

It's interesting to be a student again. I finished my fine arts degree in 1993, then my teaching program in 1999. Now I am back at it, thrilled with the possibilities. However, I was less than thrilled when I received my first assignment. I reacted EXACTLY the way some of my own students react when I assign them a project. I thought "twenty six sculptures in five months? I am trying to get away from mass production!"

I am the type of person who translates things literally in my mind, and often, I get a visual and get fixated on that one idea. I doubt that makes much sense to anyone but me, but there it is. I became a complainy whiny student. I found immense humor in this, and a better understanding of my own students. Then I thought, what lesson would there be in this for me, and what would I expect of my own students?

So, I let my mind open and wander and think of the positives. It is a meditative process to concentrate so intently on one object. Also, it teaches me to focus, and if you know me personally, you know that I can become quite scattered with a million things going on at once, multi-tasking, hopping from idea to idea, medium to medium.

I also needed to remind myself that I am artist, and interpretation is quite individual. So, how I approach my one subject twenty-six times may not be the literal translation that another might have. The final topic I decided upon and the final presentation of it is not at all what I was expecting of myself. It is a completely different path than I expected to take when I first started planning three or more weeks ago. And already, I am sensing the possibilities for growth in my own work. Perhaps the bulk of that growth has already occurred, just in my being able to apporach the project from a different perspective and to find its inherent value.

I won't share all the details just yet. First the proposal needs to be accepted, then I need to get into the studio and feel my way around it. There may lie still a learning curve or two for me. But expect an update in May when the project is complete...or perhaps...transitioning to a new phase.

"Tis the Season

"Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! "Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!" And what happened then...? Well...in Who-ville they say that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day!

-Dr. Suess "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas"

Thanksgiving has come and gone. People sat around tables stuffing their faces with all kinds of epicurean delights, sharing stories, giving the occasional thanks for blessings in their lives. Eventually some members of the gathering made their way to the couch for a snooze or to watch a few plays of football. As soon as night passed, it was on to the next holiday and hordes of cell-phone-carrying crazed bargain hunters flooding the streets and stores to find the best deal on this year's hottest toys and gadgets.

Yes indeed, I was part of that mix. Not so much to find the latest deal, but living in a remote area I grab at the opportunity when in "the city" to seek what items we need "back at the ranch" that just aren't available locally. I had been dreading this day, knowing that I would have to skirt around crazily-driven cars at backed-up intersections only to find myself standing in line for what would seem an eternity for one or two items in my hand while others in front of me flaunt their overflowing carts while listening to "The Little Drummer Boy" play over the speaker system for a fourth time that morning.

Okay, maybe I am sounding a bit like the Grinch now.

But in reality, I am not Grinch-like. I love this season. I love (almost) everything about it. Christmas time conjures up all kinds of nostalgia for me. To this day, our family, friends, and neighbors still gather at Mom and Dad's for the Christmas Eve buffet: an enormous spread of food and cheer, gift-exchanging, music, and festive decorations. As a young child, my sister, brother, and I would perform little skits for everyone, or play music or sing. I can still recite the corresponding organ key numbers for "Dreaming of a White Christmas" and "Auld Lange Syne". We don't perform anymore, but the younger of the clan like to belt out a few holiday tunes on the paino or guitar, and the occasional AC/DC song.

In my youth, the butterflies would work overtime in my stomach on Christmas eve. I knew that the sooner I went to sleep the sooner I would wake to find all kinds of toys that Santa had tucked under the tree. There were plenty of chimneys for him to use, and my letters had been mailed to the North Pole ensuring that he would be well-prepared. I was certain I could hear the sleigh bells tinkling as he and his trusty crew of reindeer flew over, Rudolph at the helm of course.

Now that I am older, I still look forward to Christmas (and Solstice!) with great anticipation and excitement. As you age, you appreciate the holidays for different reasons than you did as a child. Now, I find more joy in giving and knowing that I will be spending time with those I love most dearly.

My mom wrote me an email yesterday reminiscing about Christmas past. Like many families, there were financial struggles, but, I never knew it as a kid. The Christmas tree was always overflowing and my sister, brother, and I didn't want for much. It always seemed we had everything we needed. Mom tells of the hours she spent making us handmade clothes and toys because times were so lean, and with tight budgeting she could supplement the handmade items with a couple of material-world toys that we had requested from Santa. I can think back and remember some of the gifts. There were certainly lots of dolls - one that peed and pooped when I fed her, one whose hair could "grow", the beauty-school head that I could I could glam-up, Little Red Riding Hood, and too many Barbies to count, all with high-end runway-type outfits. But what Mom would probably be amazed about is that the items I hold most dear from Christmas' past are the little beanie baby doll she made and the big stuffed pink turtle. I remember toting those two items to school a number of times.

I have lived a truly blessed life. I always had a roof over my head, warm clothes, food, family that loved me, beautiful holiday memories, and material items that I know many in this world don't or won't ever have an opportunity to experience.

I teach in a public school, in a remote, rural area where there are more of those who "need" than those who "have". I know my students, and I know which ones haven't been blessed as I was, or as I am. I know that children, regardless of income class, believe in Santa and expect that he will travel from the North Pole on Chritmas to deliver them their dreams. And I know that some students will be more silent than others as kids return from holiday break to show-off their new toys and talk about what goodies Santa delivered to them.

I imagine that most people who read my blog are kind, nurturing souls who are already helping-out others. Given the economy of late, I know it can be a lot to ask. Some folks may not be able to extend themselves financially, but are able to help out with time and volunteering. If you are able to help out, with a toy or in some other financial capacity, a great place to start is a school. Teachers know of lots of little boys and girls who could benefit from the generosity of another. Give your local school a call and ask if there is an item(s) that you can pick-up that will make a child's Christmas morning a little bit brighter. If not a school, there are plenty of children's homes/residential facilities that could use some goodwill as well.

It is a heart-opening experience to help another family who is less-fortunate then yourself. Even though the post-Thanksgiving crowd wanted to flare my Grinch side, my heart, like the Grinch's heart, grew and grew while I picked out toys and art supplies for the little boy who I know would have nothing under the tree (and probably not even a tree) except for what I will provide.

My parents are hosting the annual "cousins" Christmas party in a couple weeks. They usually have a "Yankee Swap" and we all know what kinds of gifts show up in those gift-giving games! This year, though, at my sister's suggestion, party-goers will be asked to draw names, then buy a toy that they feel represents that person. The toys will then be donated to a charity or school. Fabulous!

There are lots of ways to "give" this holiday season (and any season!). If you haven't already made your plan to help-out another, make it a goal to begin now. Whether it is a donation of time, money, or gifts, "tis the season". Perhaps you will help at a local shelter or food bank, be a secret-santa for a school-aged child, pay an out-0f-work neightbors electric bill, or volunteer at the local hospital's children's ward. It's all beautiful - and it feels great!

Start the giving now and feel your heart grow...and grow...and GROW.

Annual Holiday Open Studio Sale

The new studio space - still in progress

Displaying my sister Kristin's Jewelry: The Indigo Iris

A shelf with the Barley glaze: yunomi cups, rice bowls, and spiral bowls

Display with Earth and Sky glaze, sake set, and the new Mead mugs

Corner display with spiral bowls and some of the Machine series pieces

The upstairs relaxation space

I started blogging just about a year ago, and one of the initial entries was about my annual holiday open studio sale. It seems unreal that a year has passed already. This past weekend was the 2009 sale at our shop "Cobscook Pottery". It was certainly a success, on many levels, but most amazing was the realization of how much has happened in the past year since the 2008 open house. Between the shop space in the barn changing, the new studio addition on the house, new series of work, and my own personal physical transformation, it was as if the returning customers were visiting for the first time!

Days before the sale, Chris and I lugged equipment and furniture out of the space. Shelves were cleared of all production supplies and most of the clay and glaze messes were mopped-up. Pottery studios aren't by nature clean or neat. I do what I can, but when in the middle of a production frenzy, there just isn't extra time or energy to clean-up.

The glaze firing for the sale was a bit of a stress. An Err1 (undetermined error of some sort) switched the kiln off 42 degrees short of maturity. Given the schedule with the contractor and his energy-hog equipment/compressors etc., I knew that I wouldn't have a day to safely fire again before the sale, and in this kiln load was better than 60 hours of work. But by some miracle, when we checked the kiln load the next day, the glazes were spot-on.

As with all holiday sales, my sister Kristin and her partner Neal spent the weekend with us. Neal usually hikes and paints, Chris follows his regular writing routine, and Kristin and I stay pretty busy greeting folks, answering questions, and packaging gift items. This year we added on tours of the new studio space. We ended the day with a delicious home cooked meal and lively conversation.

The time leading up to the sale weekend is non-stop busy. Night before opening, I felt the most exhausted I think I have ever felt in my life. My mind and body were both shutting down, having pushed myself too hard the days before. We had Veteran's Day off from school, and I did a 16-hour marathon session of baking, weaving, cleaning, organizing, moving, soapmaking, and printing tags and cards.

Somehow it all pulled together as it usually does. It was the most heavily attended sale we have ever had here in Lubec, with lots of first-time folks stopping by. Sunday afternoon, which is usually quiet on sale weekend, kept me so busy that I didn't even get breakfast until 2:00 in the afternoon. The last customer left 45 minutes after closing time.

Monday, even though I was back at school teaching, felt like a break for me. I now feel a mental relief knowing that I have a small window to time to catch my breath, and enjoy the approaching holidays. It's cookie-making, gift-wrapping, tree-decorating, yankee-swap, cozy-winter-approaching time. The next month will be steeped in the usual traditions, as well as the excitment of moving fully into the new studio space.

January will be here before I know it, and that begins a whole new chapter in my life as I begin an MFA program. But until then, I will revel in the scents of christmas cookies and the joy of children who are excitedly awaiting the return of the red-suited jolly bearded-man and all his brightly wrapped presents.

Headline: Highly Contagious Flu impacts Billions

It seems fitting, now that I think of it, that the first artwork to grace the walls of my new studio space is a drawing of a skeleton.

Symbolically, it represents the basic structure. The foundation has been poured, the walls raised, the floor laid. And now, though it is sturdy, a hollow feeling remains, awaiting all the necessary components to make it a complete living organism: furniture (vital organs), window and floor trim (muscle), and a working artist (lifeblood).

The new addition is sort of like having a third arm added to my body. I have always made do with two but could certainly put a third to use. It feels a bit strange and I am not quite acclimated to it yet. Having our house nearly double over the course of the last few months has been overwhelming at times, but also exciting. The new studio will allow me to work with clay year-round, no more below-freezing barn temps to deal with, lugging buckets of water back and forth, and hungry nesting critters who find my fiber creations tempting and cozy.

Fifteen years ago I had a vision. No, it wasn't a mystical white light pouring over me with the voice of God speaking profoundly about my soul's purpose. It was more of an an epiphany. In one moment of clarity I felt I knew my life's purpose and could "see" the physical environment in which I would work and what I would be doing, and how I would be contributing to the healing of this Earth. I just didn't know how I would get there.

At the time, I was not a teacher, at least not in the public school classroom sense. My life was a blank slate and anything was possible. Back then, I wouldn't have understood how even the smallest change or experience would influence my journey and bring me to this moment, which is still not the end, but very much the beginning.

So, I had this vision: a space for people to create, and in the process, heal. Over the years, The "retreat" has morphed in the physical sense, being tweaked in my mind to what is adequate to meet my goals, but also manageable. Instead of a massive arts-compound with cabins and hordes of people shuffling through and the stress of running a major business, I decided to focus on a more intimate, personal approach: a healing space for my husband and me where we invite others, in a more laid back sort of way, to create and heal with us.

The Gahnadi Quote comes to mind "You must be the change you wish to see in the world."

And certainly, much change is needed. My approach is to strive for a life of balance, creativity, empathy, knowledge, kindness, truth, love, and sharing. That's a tall order, but a satisfying one. Just imagine, what if that were to become the latest pandemic? The headlines would read.....

Harmony Flu Sweeps Across the Globe: CDC Warns World Peace Inevitable.

My Addiction

Not to make light of those who face addictions of any sort, but I have often likened my obsession with creating to a drug addiction. If you are an artist, you will fully understand this. If you are not, you may find this statement strange.

I just went back into the studio after nearly four months of no artwork activity.We have been building a new studio and for the past few months my supplies have been in boxes and equipment not accessible because of having to use the barn for building supplies. On top of that, I have simply had no time. Managing a building project has been more of a handful than I ever expected!

As I said, four months no artwork. I had mentally prepared myself for not doing any artwork over the summer. I gave myself permission to focus on other things with the knowing that I would, come the end of August, be moving into a new, better studio space that I could use in the winter months as well. Not a bad trade-off. I could handle the short term.

But two months turned into three and a half months and counting. When away from the clay too long, I get agitated. Little things bother me. I begin to obsess on what I am not getting done in the studio. I get cranky, maybe even slightly depressed. the demands of a full-time teaching job add to the stress and give even more reason why I need my "fix".

I couldn't take it any longer - no more waiting. I told Chris that no matter what, I was going to begin clay work with or without the new studio.

So this past weekend I heated up the barn and foraged through boxes looking for tools that had been put away awaiting their new home. I found enough to get me rolling. Filled a bucket with warm water and wedged about 30 balls of clay. I went to the hardware store and bought plastic tarp to line the barn walls and floor, and with my not-too-strong arms managed to shift the heavy potter's wheel into place. I started with my ritual throwing of mini pots, then working my way up to the larger bowls.

I instantly felt the most relaxed I have in months. All the worries about not having the new space ready, or the follow-up LAA work, or prep for school....just started to dissipate. I was centered, calm, complete. It felt so good, and long overdue. Hours passed in a flash.

As with any addiction, once you start in again with your substance of choice, you want more and more. Suddenly I am again ignoring the basic things that need to be taken care of. All I can think about is getting back into the studio, my hands in the mud. I lay awake in the middle of night thinking about I will make next. I hope for morning to come soon so I can get up and bring my ideas into some sort of visual reality. I remind myself to set limits as to how many hours I am allowed to be in the studio, lest I ignore too many other important things (and Chris lets me know when this is happening!) But eventually, the planned six hour sessions turn into 12 here and there. It is a cycle that is hard to break out of.

On the whole scale of things, an addiction to art is not so bad. I have, however, found myself saying more than once, that it is not an easy life being an artist. It dictates the space you live in, gives you sleepless nights when the mind won't stop inventing, and costs loads of money in supplies with little financial return.

It doesn't feel a choice to be an artist; you are just are. That desire to create is strong, and it has a tight hold on my soul.