beautiful pottery at garth clark gallery

One of the people who influenced me early on to get involved with clay is my old friend David. We met when I was just out of high school and he was already pursuing a degree in clay at Philadelphia College of the Arts. He lives in New York City now and works out of the Greenwich House Pottery. When I am in town, we always tour all the galleries and museums together. This afternoon we popped into Garth Clark Gallery on 56th Street. I love this gallery; it's a small gem of a space and they always have an outstanding pottery exhibition. I was inspired by the exhibit today of Gwyn Hanssen Piggott. She throws these beautifuly delicate bowls and cups, with thin rims and soft glazes that remind me of the colored eggs araucana chickens lay. My friend Bronwyn happened to give me a collection of eggs from her araucana hens that she raises in her backyard in West Oakland right before I left for New York, so the colors have been on my mind.

Many of Gwyn Hanssen Piggott's vessels have a different colored glaze on the inside, which creates a very soft and delicate mood. I always love the contrast of a different colored glaze on the inside of vessels. Along with the cups and bowls were sturdier bottle forms. The pieces were assembled as a still life, which was a lovely way to see everyday functional objects. It made me stop and think again about that tension between "art" and "craft". I would write more about what I think on that subject, but it's been another busy day in New York City for me, and I'm off to bed!

chelsea billboard

new york

With the help of my friends-- Joanna who helped me glaze the remainder of my work, my fab husband who unloaded and reloaded kilns, Sidney who folded and stuffed my new brochure, Sara who packed my work, and Bronwyn who helped me get it to the FedEx-- I managed to get off to New York City without a hitch despite not having much use of my left arm. I have always said that I have the best friends and most amazing people in my life, and in an emergency like I had with my arm and trying to get ready for the New York trade show, it's great to be proven right again.

My arm at this moment is doing so much better. Very little pain and I am quickly regaining movement. I will be in New York for three weeks and I think by the time I get home I will be almost as good as new.

When I stay in New York I live with my dearest and oldest friend, Waleed, who has a great apartment in the Chelsea district, which is also the heart of the New York Gallery district. When I come to New York for the trade show, I usually stay an extra week or two so I have time to visit the galleries and museums, and visit with my circle of friends who live here. I also like to stick around for Fashion Week because Waleed, a clothing designer, always has a show and he also usually needs an Errand Girl (me) in the days leading up to the actual show.

Yesterday I went to the Japan Society to check out their exhibition of some contemporary Japanese potters. It's rare that I have time to check out pottery, and this was a wonderful exhibit to see. There were a few pieces I found especially inspiring, like Yagi Akira's work to the right here. I love to make nested forms, and I love the idea of nested forms that fit inside each other. I can't wait to get back to work and give it a shot! I also saw a set of 22 nested bowls, the smallest one thrown with a needle and a magnifying glass. At first I thought that it would have been a lot easier for the artist to just pinch it out, a tiny little bowl like that. But then I realized that the challenge is to throw each piece on the wheel to maintain the integrity of the set. I'm not as anxious to try throwing with a needle, but I love to think about someone else doing it.

check yourself

Life is hectic at the moment, which is why I have not posted in a while. I realized it was really time to post no matter what because my current favorite blog, thirty year old secretary, hasn't posted since Dec 18 also, same as me. I keep checking the blog and thinking, "Has he decided not to blog anymore?" Then I realized other people might be thinking the same thing about me.

I'm still here. I have time to post because I'm snowboarding in Tahoe and had an unfortunate incident which involved my shoulder locating somewhere else during a fall, then relocating itself while I was in a spasm of hyperventilating and nausea. Fortunately the husband was with me and I was ferried down the slope by Ryan, the EMT. I love EMT people, they are so calm and centered. They are always very concerned about you, and whether you know your own name and what day of the week it is. Firemen are the same way. I absolutely love firemen. Cops... not so much, unless you're a victim...

Anyway, the fact that I can't move my arm now comes at a very inconvenient moment because I'm getting ready to leave for the New York International Gift Show in less than 10 days, and I still have glazing, packing, and a myriad of other small details to cope with, which would go so much more smoothly if I had free use of both arms. It's a major "check yourself" moment. I've managed to keep stress at bay, but my confidence has taken a hit after the last Gift show in August, which did not give the orders I was expecting and wanting. I've been readying the troops, and have taken steps to be more visible and desirable in the sea of product that is the Gift Show, but doubt has taken up residence in my brain. I do not like Doubt. Doubt is the opposite of an EMT. Doubt is like, "Oh no! I think you're screwed! What's your name? Oh my god, who named you? What kind of name is that? What day of the week is it? Omigod! It's Tuesday? You better get busy! But your collarbone is broken what are you going to dooooo....???!!!"

It's kind of great when things get taken out of your control. You have to give up. Giving up is a beautiful moment. It's realizing that all the things you thought you had to do, well, you don't have do any of it. Maybe you can't do any of it. You can't get it all done, you can't be perfect, and life keeps going. In a different way than you planned. Those down-to-the-wire, perfectly timed and executed plans.

perfect : not perfect

Trying to solve an old problem can often create new ones, and then in the process of trying to solve the new problem, a whole new idea can emerge. A while back I wrote about trying to solve the problem of efficiency with my dogwood pieces. I have been experimenting with sculpting the dogwood flowers separately from the piece rather than sculpting them directly onto the piece, then attaching them after they have been glazed. Well, it's still in the testing phase, because sometimes it comes out perfect, sometimes... not perfect.

The main problem is the flowers sliding off during the firing. I mostly solved this problem by throwing the bowls flatter on top so the flowers don't have a little hill to slide down. But still, I have this piece that's great except for the flower hanging off the side. I know some people will find this charming and buy it anyway, but then there's this empty spot where the flower was. And then on a couple of pieces, the flower started to slide down but got stuck early on, so the flowers is still on top, but flipped up on its side.

To fix up a few of these pieces, I sculpted some dogwood flowers and glazed and fired them all by themselves, with the intention of epoxying the flowers to the empty spots. Not perfect, but better then throwing them away. When the flowers came out of the kiln, I thought how gorgeous they looked, just sitting there by themselves. Then I started imagining a beautifully set table, with vases of flowers and the ceramic dogwood flowers scattered all over the table, like they had fallen from trees. Perfect for somebody having guests over for a special dinner!

Now that I have a new product, it's a question of how to sell it. I made as many flowers as I could in three hours, and they come down to $5 a flower... wholesale. Not likely to be a big hit with most of my customers at that price. In my daydream time in the coming weeks I will be thinking about how to bring the price down: have the flowers molded? make them bigger? hire some oompa-loompas to live in my studio and make them? One way or the other, sometime this year you will be able to buy a package of ceramic dogwood flowers to scatter on your table, and I hope you don't have to gulp as you hand over your credit card!

a rotten, horrible, nasty, very bad show

I have been doing craft shows for 8 years now. I used to completely rely on them for my income, and I did many many shows, street fairs mostly. I don't knock street fairs because they helped me survive as a full-time artist for a couple of years. And it was in doing these shows where I paid my dues, and continue to occasionally pay my dues. If I have given anyone the impression that I don't suffer for my art, let me now enlighten you. I suffer. I suffer at these shows.

Since I am totally masochistic, I actually get very excited about shows. I love setting up my little display, creating gorgeous flower arrangements in my vases, dressing up in my cool outfits. Since I usually look like a cross between a street urchin and a mud wrestler in my usual day to day attire, I never hesitate to buy beautiful clothes with the idea that I will look so damn cute selling my pottery in these shoes. Since I am what is considered an "established" artist, I can count on these shows to bring in a certain amount of income, I usually don't think too much about not doing well.

It wasn't always like this. Like I said, I paid my dues. I've done many shows where I've stood around all weekend and been alternately bored, angry, sad, and downright depressed as I watch my neighbors rake in the cash and I rake in admirers who have no money. I did one show in Napa about 7 years ago where I sold 3 things all weekend. THREE THINGS! I was so bummed out that I got outrageously drunk during the show-- this was Napa and it was a wine and music thing after all-- and cried so drunkenly and so loudly in the bathroom that everyone heard me. And then there was the time in Santa Monica when my car got towed from in front of my sister's house the morning of the show, another exhibitor broke my best piece, and I had a bad case of laryngitis and couldn't even complain at the volume I like to. And another time when I did a show in Blackhawk--very upscale, very exclusive gated community-- and received not a glance from the patrons. Early on in the show, a little old lady wearing a Chanel suit and pearls came up to me, grabbed my best piece with both hands, paid for it in cash, and said bluntly, "You're not going to sell anything here". I said, "I think I'll do alright". I was not offended, but amused by her approach. "No," she said, "the people here know nothing of beauty, they hire interior designers to purchase things. They'll buy that crap over there" she snorted, gesturing toward one of my neighbors, who shall go unnamed. I just shrugged and said, "We''ll see", though I had to wonder if she was a future incarnation of myself, especially when she said the word "crap". Unfortunately, she was right, and despite being located next to a fully stocked bar tended by a sympathetic and attractive youngster, that was one show where I packed up and left hours before closing. Insult me, put me down, hate on my pottery, but nobody ignores me. And if they do... well see ya later!

I tell these stories with wry amusement because they are my war stories, and I can laugh now because I generally don't have bad shows anymore, and even what I consider a bad show is way better than what most people do at the same show. I never gloat-- though I do celebrate-- and I don't spend time being a complainer except at home. Today, I had a glaring exception. I had such a bad day that it rivals the Napa show, and in my household, that's saying something. Napa is an iconic show of badness, so bad that when I have a bad day, me or my husband will say, "Well, at least it's not Napa". Today was Napa. Today was Napa squared.

I must have learned something in these years, because I didn't cry, I didn't get drunk-- not at the show anyway-- and I complained only to my closest friends and husband. I'm kind of bummed about the poor show, because I could have spent the weekend hiking or petting my cat, but not depressed or really upset, just surprised. Wow, nobody bought my work today except for a few lucky souls. Hmmmmmmmm.

art work

When one is an artist trying to make money off the art, there is always a point at which your art turns into a business. Many working artists resist this notion because to our minds, art is pure and should not be tainted by things such as money and commerce. We struggle with the business end of our art because we are artists, not accountants, and we are artistic, not number crunchers.

There is also the matter of continuing to reap enjoyment from something that has become... work. Many of us fear turning our creativity into a money making venture because we don't want to lose the pleasure in creating, or lose our focus in the creative process when we have to sell sell sell.

I started thinking about this many years ago when I started referring to what I did in my studio as "work", as in "I'm going to work now!" when I left my home in the morning. While it gave me a certain stick-it-to-the-man pleasure to refer to my pottery studio as a work place, I was also disturbed that there wasn't another word for what I did, since the word "work" seemed like something you would do in an office building under the eyeball of a boss. I tried to come up with a new word because I was afraid that if I kept using the word "work" I would somehow lose my freedom of expression or my sensibility would become dull.

I did not succeed in coming up with another word that didn't sound totally contrived to describe what I do during the day. I go to my studio and work-- that's it. And there are certain realities I have had to learn to deal with as a full-time self-employed artist, and these are the risks of being a working artist. While it gives me great pleasure to work with clay, I don't make my pots solely for pleasure, I mostly do it so I can avoid having to move into that office building. Sometimes I have to make things I don't feel like making. And I have to spend a lot of time doing things I don't really want to do, like ordering supplies, fussing with paperwork, paying bills. Sometimes I complain to myself about this stuff, resist doing it. But when I can walk by that office building and not into it, I feel like I'm still sticking it to the man, and that feeling is worth it!