Out of the Snow and Into the Studio

Got a wee bit of snow a few days ago...

Current sculpture in progress

This past week has kept me fairly focused in the studio. Yet another snow day allowed time to work on a new sculpture. This one, when finished, will reach over three feet tall and is quite hefty. Throwing and wedging the larger-than-usual clumps of clay left me fearing I had permanently damaged my stomach muscles, but a few days later all returned to normal, noting to myself that I better be a bit more careful next time!!!

Creating artwork is not always fun. Just like with any job, there are parts that you enjoy and there are parts that you despise. Not that I fully despise any part of working with clay, but there are definitely some things that are more "grunt work" than pleasurable. Wedging is always a source of discomfort. It is taxing on my shoulders and takes quite a bit of time to get all those unruly clumps and lumps back into a smooth, workable ball. With the current sculpture, I spent perhaps equal time researching and sketching as I did forming the structure. The part that I do love, though, is carving. This particular piece is carving-intensive so I was in all of my glory for a few hours while I toggled from tool to tool to get the look and feel of my vision. Now I wait (hope/pray) that it survives the kiln firing so that the next phase of the process may occur.

In between shoveling last week's storm, I spent hours holed-up in my "cave". Chris said to me that I must really have a passion for what I do when I am willing to spend several hours in a cold, damp, concreted space below the earth, and actually crave and enjoy it. I never thought of it like that before, but when you break it down, yeah, it is kinda strange.

Amazingly, I am comfortable in that space, engulfed in messy, dry clay dust and mounds. For someone who seeks the just-so feng shui feeling of a home space, it is kind of odd that I don't pay attention to the lack of "homeyness" in the basement. Maybe it has something to do with being in a space that is natural to clay; deep within the earthen underground. Or maybe I am just so enthralled by the project at hand that my peripheral vision ceases and I am completely zoned into the form that is before me.

I probably shouldn't try to hard to understand it all.

A bit of rain this morning sunk the snowy yard and has created a new ice rink. It's like last week's "Snowmageddon" never occurred. Chris narrowly averted the intense shoveling schedule, boasting of sunny skies and warm temps while taking his afternoon walk with his father in California. He somehow dodged all flight delays, once again, upon his return to Maine on Friday. Bello and I are glad to have him back home with us. Now, I'm just hoping for another massive snowstorm so that he may experience the endless shoveling as I did this past month. I wouldn't want him to feel left out of all the fun, afterall!

I have some things to tend to over the next two to three weeks and suspect that I will not have a chance to blog. If you don't see a post next time you check in, just keep checking back. All should return to the regular normally scheduled life routine by the end of the month.

Hope all you romantics out there have a memorable St. Valentine's Day! (or at least your fill of quality chocolate confections!!!!)

Snowy Winter Encourages Artistic Endeavors

Last Thursday's storm brought another foot of the white stuff.

Teeny-tiny component of a much larger sculpture currently in progress.

Wheelthrown cylinders for a new sculpture in progress.

Kiln loaded and ready to fire.




It's been a snowy winter. No one will dispute that, not even those who live in the south. We have all had our share of it and it seems we can barely get shoveled out from one storm when another is forecasted on the way. This morning I had a "snow alert" in my inbox. Apparently we got another 4 inches of snow while I was snoozing, and last night the weatherwoman on WSCH news cheerfully alerted all the viewers here in downeast Maine that there is a "potential for significant snowfall mid week" with the next storm.

More than a few times over the past three weeks my arms have been reduced to a jello-jiggle after shoveling. It's a bit different here on the coast than what I was accustomed to in central Maine. On the coast, we tend to get a heavier, rain/snow-mixed precipitation. So, when the rest of the state has that light fluffy stuff that isn't a back-breaker when shoveling, we usually end up with a heavy, sticky mess that would give even the most Herculean of men quite an upper body workout.

This winter the forecast has called for more-than-usual "coastal huggers". Those storms that go out to sea are often clipping us here in Lubec. While the rest of the state (or even the next town north of us) may be dry and sunny, we are getting dumped-upon with whiteout squalls and mass accumulations.

So what does this mean beyond lots of shoveling and an enormous plow bill?

Snow days. The kind where the phone rings at 5:30 in the morning and the voice on the other end of the receiver tells me to go back to sleep. (But I never do!!!)

We've had four of them so far this season. Sometimes that elicits complaining since they have to be made up at the end of the school year, but I have sort of resigned myself that already. There is nothing that can be done: Mother Nature is in control.

For me, the snowy days have been great for studio time. Instead of my usual two days on the weekend and scattered weeknights, I have been able to squeeze in an extra full day which amounts to approximately ten additional hours of sculpting.

Winter is wonderful for creating, especially that which requires much thinking and reflecting. The stillness allows me to be more in my head and less distracted by the pull to be out in the garden or heading out of town, etc. Being snowed-in is the ultimate. Everything that was previously planned gets dropped from the schedule and that makes for pure creation.

I am currently working on two clay sculptures simultaneously. In general I don't like to have my mind scattered amongst too many things, but sometimes that is inevitable. The main component of a sculpture I began almost four weeks ago has a fracture so may need to be re-sculpted, and while I am waiting for that situation to become more clear I have begun a second major piece. With clay, I am always working against the clock. Different steps need to be done at a particular moment when the dryness is "just-so". I may come home from work some days exhausted, but I know that if I don't commit a few hours in the studio that all the previous labor done for a piece may be for naught.

Art is like that. Creating is pleasurable, but it is still work. Inspiration is a motivator, but once a piece has begun, the steps need to continue along at a specific tempo, whether or not the energy is there.

At present moment, the sun is still over an hour from rising. I've yet to assess what amount of snow we actually received overnight. I'm hoping for a shovel-free Sunday so that I may spend as many hours as possible in my pottery cave.

The beginning of a new piece always begs for extra attention. The anticipation of what it may become is at its height.

Sounds of Silence

Day after the first real snowstorm of the season. Yep! It warranted a snow day!

Sometimes you just have to take a hammer to a piece and start all over.

Bello has been feeling neglected lately. He made his way onto my lap despite my continuing to weave.

Last time I blogged I was crossing my fingers for a snow day. I sent out an all points request (begging) to the Weather Gods to please, please, please, give me a free day to get some work done (ironic, isn't it? a "free day" to do work).

Well, I guess the Weather Gods heard me, because next morning at 5:30 a.m. I the phone rang. School canceled. And it should have been, too. It was a nasty frozen mess out there with a mix of sleet and snow. Definitely not good conditions for anyone to be driving in. I was ecstatic. I laid my head back down on the pillow and snoozed another 45 minutes. When I woke, thinking of all the things I could get done that day, I noticed an unusual stillness. There were no sounds of heaters, no hum of appliances: just the sound of distant blowing wind.

Hmmmm.

The Weather Gods giveth. The Weather Gods taketh.

My hopes and plans fizzled as I realized that the power was out. How would I get my 10 million things on the to-do list done without power? I needed heat to be comfy. I needed light to do the finer, more detailed work. No electric toys to help dry paint?

Not knowing how long we would be without power, my first instinct was to shower before the hot water cooled. Once that was accomplished I clothed in the warmest wools and layers I could get my hands on. I turned on the Jotul stove, pulled up a rocking chair, placed a camp lamp beside me, and began to weave. I sat toasty by the stove, creating, while watching snow fall briskly outside.

The silence is not something I am used to, but that morning, it felt incredibly comfortable. I worked for about three hours in that spot, thinking how this was the norm for so many not so long ago. This silence. With only my thoughts to entertain. I felt peaceful. Focused.

Chris eventually sauntered down the stairs. His camping skills came in handy as he pulled out a tiny single-burner stove and prepared us scrambled eggs and hot water for coffee and cocoa. I'm sure that our ancestors long ago didn't have it quite this easy without power, but it did make me wonder what it would be like to take ourselves "off the grid".

I'm not sure I could do it long term. I have become accustomed to modern ways and modern toys. I would miss listening to music, the convenience of a quick warm meal, or hot water for a shower. Oh yes - how could I live without hot water?

Still, the thought intrigues me.

The power returned a bit over three hours later. I missed the silence. I missed the peacefulness. Even if you turn off the music, TV, and furnace, there is still the hum of the refrigerator and other electrical devices. Even if you turn off all the lights and heaters, you can still sense the electrical flow.

I finally found my groove again and got in a long day's work. One week ago I didn't think I would be able to accomplish all that I have, but I sit here tonight in awe of the amazing amount of artwork that has been completed over the past week. I finished three tapestries and am almost done with a third sculpture. The pieces have been in progress for almost 15 weeks and it feels good to see them coming to some sort of conclusion. Right now I am listening to the hum of a fan, blowing on a wooden pedestal that I just painted with acrylic paint. I am waiting for the paint to dry so that I can move on to the next step. It feels good to look around the studio and see all that has been accomplished in such a short time.

On another note, the North Pole called today. I normally wouldn't answer the phone on a Sunday morning when in the middle of work, but when Santa phones around the time of holidays, I think it best to Pick-up. It was his top elf calling with a message from the big guy. Apparently Santa was watching us in his big snow globe (yep, checking us out in Lubec, Maine) when he saw Chris, in an ecstatic frenzy, grab a gift from his Christmas stocking and tear apart the paper while dancing frantically around the room and gloating that he opened a gift and I couldn't do a single thing about it.

Well, I don't need to do anything. Seems Santa has taken care of things and Chris is on the probationary Naughty list. If I was in charge of all things festive, I think I would have just slid him right on over to the Naughty list with no chance of gift-receiving parole. But the big guy in the red suit has the final say.

It will be interesting come Solstice and Christmas, this year, won't it Chris?

Glue and Snow

Pomegrenade: one component of a current sculpture that is almost complete.
Ceramic with encaustic, acrylic paint, and iron oxide stain.

Another sculpture in progress - hoping to finish this one up later this morning.

That's Chris in the photo on the left, cooking dinner, yet again. It's been a week like that, with him doing dinner duty several nights. The work hours that I have been keeping are insane and if it weren't for Chris cooking, I'd probably be on a steady diet of Chobani and hot cocoa. The veggie tacos and a half hour walk in the damp moonless night were a much needed break from studio tasks. A good night's sleep was welcomed as well and now I find myself taking time for a quick blog entry before hitting the studio again this morning.

This past week was a convergence of deadlines. Grades were due, budgets as well, and projects for my two MFA classes need to be presented in less than two weeks. Most people I know are well on their way to preparing for the holidays: mailing out cards, trimming the tree, wrapping gifts, and shipping goodies to far off friends and relatives. My only saving grace on that front is that my shopping is all done. Albeit, the gifts are sitting in a bag without the attention of colorful papers and bows to transform them into gift-like delights. I will get to that, eventually. First, I have three sculptures and two or three tapestries to finish by the 18th. I look forward to hopping into holiday mode on the 19th.

Yesterday was a fully productive day in the studio. I have been looking at six separate pieces of work, each unfinished. The past fourteen weeks have been devoted to these specific pieces but it is difficult to get my head around the finished concept when they are in pieces rather than whole and complete. The steps for each piece have to be done in a specific order, no jumping ahead. As usual, things don't go as planned. After painting the acrylic onto the pomegrenade sculpture, I needed to attach the tops to the bodies. In the past I used "ducocement" and this time around, tried a superglue gel. Well, superglue is not so super, and the ducocement back-up did not cement the pieces even after an hour and a half of attempts. The toppers are just too heavy and awkwardly imbalanced.

When Chris returned from his Saturday morning vigil at Flatiron Corner, he offered to go to the hardware store to purchase some epoxy for me. I had already been there earlier in the morning buying all sorts of strange items which set me behind in the studio over an hour. He returned with 30 minute epoxy but mentioned that there was a 15 minute epoxy. Seeing how it is dreadfully painful for me to sit still 30 minutes while holding two ceramic pieces in the exact same position (times four!), I cried out for the quicker dry time. Back to the hardware store he went.

I had used epoxy in the past but was avoiding it. I am a messy worker and mixing the two ingredients is not the most graceful task. Extra glue spills out of the tubes, I get it on my fingers, it stinks, and on and on. But you know what - it worked perfectly. I had four tops to attach to the base sculptures. I mixed the glue, set a kitchen timer for 15 minutes, applied the glue, attached the pieces, and held them exactly 15 minutes each. Simple. Now why didn't I just do that in the first place? It was all over in a little over an hour and I was then onto the next step. Phew.

My Saturday was divided by work on three sculptures. Due to some structural issues my original plans needed to be changed. Clay is a tough medium in that you can spend hours sculpting a piece or wheelthrow your best-ever pot only to remove it from the kiln to discover a nasty huge crack. And that is what happened with each of these three sculptures, on some level. I have had issues with this particular clay, but, I like the texture and how well it takes glazes. On the sequential sculpture one component was damaged enough to have to re-sculpt. It was minor though, time wise (perhaps another three or so hours), but on the larger pieces, I needed to find a way to work with the cracks. The cracks aren't big enough to cause worries of the piece falling apart, but it did make me have to rethink the next part of the process, which originally was to glaze and fire to full temp. Ultimately, I decided that one piece would do well with paint rather than glaze and re-fire. Why risk it when I can get a similar effect with paint and a filler to disguise the small crack, which seemed inconsequential overall as far as durability. But who knows what would have happened with higher kiln temps and further shrinkage. The larger sculpture I just couldn't imagine any other way than fired to temp. I ultimately decided that it was worth the risk. Will I be happy in the end with my decision? Time will tell.

Folks who work with clay will most likely understand my dilemma. It is tough to put so much energy into a piece not knowing for sure if there will be disappointment or joy when opening the kiln lid. The anticipation is a real booger.

Enough said. I am going to shower and get rolling here.

Oh - snow coming in for tomorrow. According to the weather forecast, anyway. it's one of those quirky-type storms where the bad weather rolled off to the east only to be pushed back at us where it will swirl a bit around our downeast region before pushing its way back out. Severe weather warnings are up. Could it mean, possibly, a snow day? The first of the year? I am kinda, sorta, (alright, jump-up-and-down do a snow-dance kinda hoping) hoping that it is. I would love the extra day to be in my studio. The trade off is to make up the day at the end of the school year - a beautiful, warm, sunny spring day spent in the classroom beyond originally contracted days. But - the trade off is worth it for one or two days a year; to nab that extra hour of sleep after the phone rings, watch the wind knock around the flakes, listen to it whistle, and to be inside toasty warm, in slippers and PJ's, by the fire, drinking cocoa.

Of course, the actual version would be me in messy work clothes flitting around like a worker bee to get some work done, then outside every so often sweating it out while shoveling snow and trying to free the car for next day's travel. But I prefer to imagine the above, more romantically-stated version!