Keep this idea of recording your process throughout the entire length of the class, with whatever you do, and inform what you do through in depth research.
I held the lump of clay, I played with it for a few minutes; it's a familiar substance in my hands, yet I've felt blocked – nothing was coming through. Perhaps I could form a muse from the lump of clay, perhaps it would bring a bit of inspiration...
I held the lump of clay, I played with it for a few minutes; it's a familiar substance in my hands, yet I've felt blocked – nothing was coming through. Perhaps I could form a muse from the lump of clay, perhaps it would bring a bit of inspiration...
Muse #1
Mike came to pick me up and saw the muse – he said it looked like another I had done a few years ago, oh and kind of like two others I also made....
What felt spontaneous to me was just another movement on the same old trajectory I've been on for some time; maybe I found my stuck spot – thank you Mike!
It took 24 hours of self-defeatist hell, then I read the first of our readings - “Base Materialism” - something had shook loose.
I made “The Mess” the next day...
The Mess #1
I put four different colors of clay in separate bowls, collected some found natural objects while walking my old dog then arranged them on a board, I then stood on the kitchen table for leverage and began throwing small handfuls of clay on the board – not with any emotion, but with enough force for them to stick to the board. It was completely freeing; I would not form the clay into anything, I would just let it be. Then I thought maybe I might bless it by throwing some beans and grains on it, they might grow if I water it...
Mike awoke during the night to find me on the table with an atrocious mess extending even beyond the well covered kitchen. Povorino! His disdain for mess and disorder forced him quickly back to bed...I promised there would be no trace of it in the morning. The next day he said he was grateful he was not wearing his glasses.
The Mess #2
I left it at school to water and monitor it everyday, but never touching or manipulating it with my hands. First the wheat began to sprout...
And the Muse came home to be left outdoors throughout the cold winter days and nights...
Muse #2
It's much more interesting this way and I enjoy visiting it and watching the formed clay slake naturally .
As The Mess grew, it got a fair amount of attention in the studio – I was asked, “what was it?” “what would I do with it?” One response I had was, "I'm growing many magic bean sprouts so that I might create several different pathways to some fantastic castles in the sky and possibly find some magic treasures."
The Mess #3
and “It's my mess and I'm watering it so that it might grow and change on its own.” And how delightful it was to examine it daily, seeing all the new growth.
"Awareness is becoming acquainted with environment, no matter where one happens to be. [People] do not suddenly become aware or infused with wonder; it is something we are born with. No child need be told its secret; he keeps it until the influence of gadgetry and the indifference of teen-age satiation extinguish its intuitive joy."
From Reflections From the North Country by Sigurd Olsen.
Muse #3
Snow and ice...sun and clouds...growth and death...change...constant change...
The Mess #4
Old stories are difficult to relinquish to the untold stories; the stories which hold within them the infinite possibilities that each life holds – its greatest potential...
Muse #4
What influences that which I feel compelled to give life, that which I have the desire to bring into existence. And what of my children? I was a teenage mama with no plan to have children; did I choose for them to arrive when they did? Did they, still not conceived of also have a part in the decisive nature of existence? Is there a decisive nature to existence? And what if, what if, what if – how odd, a question about the possible future which has past and will not exist...how odd we are.
The Mess #5
So it goes, and so we grow, or perhaps perish. Do the innocent, when deprived of the many essentials to survival, wish to die? I think not, they want only to be nurtured and survive, as does the innocent, wild, indigenous self.
Muse #5
Unfortunately, this was the last shot of the Muse. I had wanted to get 1 or 2 more before the natural environment washed it away completely, but shortly after the snow and ice came a very big rain that washed it away in a day. I got to see the beginning of that; what a beautiful thing, the rain drops were making holes in the piece.
It washed away to nothing, even the ground where the clay dropped shows no trace of its ever being.
There's a magical story about St. Francis enjoying the night air one evening in the village of Assisi. When the moon came up, it was huge and luminous, bathing the entire earth in radiance. Noticing no one else was outside to enjoy this miracle, Francis ran to the bell tower and began ringing the bell enthusiastically. When the people rushed from their houses in alarm and they saw Francis at the top of tower, they called out asking him to explain what was wrong. Francis replied simply, "Lift up your eyes, my friends. Look at the moon!"
Sometimes all that is necessary for hearing the earth's voice is just to get out of our boxes.
Mike came to pick me up and saw the muse – he said it looked like another I had done a few years ago, oh and kind of like two others I also made....
What felt spontaneous to me was just another movement on the same old trajectory I've been on for some time; maybe I found my stuck spot – thank you Mike!
It took 24 hours of self-defeatist hell, then I read the first of our readings - “Base Materialism” - something had shook loose.
I made “The Mess” the next day...
The Mess #1
I put four different colors of clay in separate bowls, collected some found natural objects while walking my old dog then arranged them on a board, I then stood on the kitchen table for leverage and began throwing small handfuls of clay on the board – not with any emotion, but with enough force for them to stick to the board. It was completely freeing; I would not form the clay into anything, I would just let it be. Then I thought maybe I might bless it by throwing some beans and grains on it, they might grow if I water it...
Mike awoke during the night to find me on the table with an atrocious mess extending even beyond the well covered kitchen. Povorino! His disdain for mess and disorder forced him quickly back to bed...I promised there would be no trace of it in the morning. The next day he said he was grateful he was not wearing his glasses.
The Mess #2
I left it at school to water and monitor it everyday, but never touching or manipulating it with my hands. First the wheat began to sprout...
And the Muse came home to be left outdoors throughout the cold winter days and nights...
Muse #2
It's much more interesting this way and I enjoy visiting it and watching the formed clay slake naturally .
As The Mess grew, it got a fair amount of attention in the studio – I was asked, “what was it?” “what would I do with it?” One response I had was, "I'm growing many magic bean sprouts so that I might create several different pathways to some fantastic castles in the sky and possibly find some magic treasures."
The Mess #3
and “It's my mess and I'm watering it so that it might grow and change on its own.” And how delightful it was to examine it daily, seeing all the new growth.
"Awareness is becoming acquainted with environment, no matter where one happens to be. [People] do not suddenly become aware or infused with wonder; it is something we are born with. No child need be told its secret; he keeps it until the influence of gadgetry and the indifference of teen-age satiation extinguish its intuitive joy."
From Reflections From the North Country by Sigurd Olsen.
Muse #3
Snow and ice...sun and clouds...growth and death...change...constant change...
The Mess #4
Old stories are difficult to relinquish to the untold stories; the stories which hold within them the infinite possibilities that each life holds – its greatest potential...
Muse #4
What influences that which I feel compelled to give life, that which I have the desire to bring into existence. And what of my children? I was a teenage mama with no plan to have children; did I choose for them to arrive when they did? Did they, still not conceived of also have a part in the decisive nature of existence? Is there a decisive nature to existence? And what if, what if, what if – how odd, a question about the possible future which has past and will not exist...how odd we are.
The Mess #5
So it goes, and so we grow, or perhaps perish. Do the innocent, when deprived of the many essentials to survival, wish to die? I think not, they want only to be nurtured and survive, as does the innocent, wild, indigenous self.
Muse #5
Unfortunately, this was the last shot of the Muse. I had wanted to get 1 or 2 more before the natural environment washed it away completely, but shortly after the snow and ice came a very big rain that washed it away in a day. I got to see the beginning of that; what a beautiful thing, the rain drops were making holes in the piece.
It washed away to nothing, even the ground where the clay dropped shows no trace of its ever being.
There's a magical story about St. Francis enjoying the night air one evening in the village of Assisi. When the moon came up, it was huge and luminous, bathing the entire earth in radiance. Noticing no one else was outside to enjoy this miracle, Francis ran to the bell tower and began ringing the bell enthusiastically. When the people rushed from their houses in alarm and they saw Francis at the top of tower, they called out asking him to explain what was wrong. Francis replied simply, "Lift up your eyes, my friends. Look at the moon!"
Sometimes all that is necessary for hearing the earth's voice is just to get out of our boxes.
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