in the midst of madness

In the midst of madness this piece was born. I am amazed that these new pieces have come forth right now. But I am glad. In lieu of the written word, the clay speaks for me. Today it was a cry for help and an acknowledgement that I simply cannot take any more emotional insanity. I like this piece. I like the continued rawness of the new work. The quick strokes and the gestures of the piece. His large hands are telling. He is no longer able to give the way he did. Well, I guess I should speak in first person. I am no longer able to give the way that I have and I am asking for help to get myself centered again.

Chagall

May 29, 2007

Again a piece not expected. Not knowing how to move forward in my day emotionally, once again the clay screamed to me and I listened. This piece came extremely quickly, 20 to 30 minutes. I was intent on not overworking it. I was just given a Marc Chagall painting by someone that I love very dearly. Her name is Holly. (She is a teacher and a magnificent one. We should all hope that our children had her in her tutelage or regret that we didn't. But, please can someone convince her to pursue her writing? Honestly, she has volumes of stories to tell us, inform us, entertain us, and ultimately to change how we look at the world) Oh, did I digress? Back to the painting...it is a beautiful angel child descending from heaven. I of course was so moved by the magnitude of the gift itself, but so moved also by the familiarity of the piece. It reminds me so much of my work in its rawest moments…in the beginning when I have not tried to make everything anatomically correct…when it is the gesture of the torso or the feel of the eyes, though they may not be symmetrical. This Chagall has a hand that looks like a foot and two eyes that don’t match. In my readings of Chagall he was spontaneous and rapid in his creations. He painted often in pen and ink, a medium that is unforgiving in the permanence of a stroke. He gave over the need to make the piece representationally correct for the feel of it. And he simply kept making more pieces as many artists do, to let the work and his inner world come forward.

Clay is forgiving. One can change a stroke. But in changing a stroke one takes the chance of changing the whole emotion of the piece. I am struggling to attend to the emotion and feel of the piece and not try to make the piece realistically perfect.

It is such a beautiful challenge to attempt to stay present in the creation. What stroke of clay takes away from the piece and what oddly unrealistic turn makes it feel more real?

bottom of the ocean

Felt at the bottom of the ocean emotionally this week. I was walking through my studio not at all thinking that I would do a piece and it was as if the clay grabbed hold of me and asked me to engage with her. So, in the middle of some inane domestic chore, I opened the bag, pulled pieces of clay and very quickly started allowing the piece to become itself. Within 3 strokes of the clay I saw that she was a mermaid and saw that she was reaching up to the sky. In looking at the piece in its completion, I can see that it is of course me wanting some reprieve from the emotional deep water darkness of my world at the moment. Her hands are unrefined, almost as if they are fin like. She is not the most anatomically correct of pieces, but I didn’t want to overwork her so as not to lose some of the spontaneity. I see that one hand is receiving and the other giving. I am still unaware of what that means in the complexity of my life right now, but none the less she makes me happy.