Coffee is a large iced latte with no sweetener in a McDonald's go cup, my music is provided by the water in the fountain next to me. It feels both poignant and fitting that I start this post with the same cadence I used over 15 years ago when I began writing this blog. (Sidenote: Does anyone even blog anymore? It feels like everyone who is compelled to write puts it out on Medium. Bleh. Too many lurid peeks into other peoples' dysfunctional relationships. No thanks.) But writing here feels right as it is official and out in the world (and if I'm honest it really has been true for awhile): I am no longer a working glass artist.
Life in pandemic times caused a major evaluation of my life and its parts, and I decided to go on to the next chapter. I am selling all my kilns but one. I already sold my sandblast cabinet, and now I just have several hoarder's crates of glass and other misc supplies to sell. No, no I am NOT selling my flat lap grinder--don't even ask. I am selling my pottery kiln (which I shamefacedly admit has never been fired). It's a studio-sized behemoth I got as a sweet deal as a-scratch-and-dent sale from the manufacturer when I was a dealer for them. The kiln is neither scratched nor dented, but the box it was shipped in arrived damaged at the school that bought the kiln so they refused delivery. I don't know what I was thinking when I bought it... Yes I do. I was in Atlanta, I had space there in my studio to set up a ceramics area, there was nowhere else close to drive to do it, and I was annoyed at Spruill Cneter for the Arts and unwilling to give them any more of my money to take classes there. I also had a friend who lived nearby that I potted with and she was keen to set up our own area too. I have no such circumstances in Austin, and I do have a good arts school near the house where I can take classes and use all of their equipment when I get jonesing to put my hands in the clay. So bye-bye massive ceramics kiln!
It's time to take the website down, and to put up a notice up that the artist from Siyeh Studio has gone on to her next chapter. It is weird: A major part of what defined me for the past 36 years was my identification as a glass artist--whether part time and yearning for a full-time career, or full time and wondering why I had ever thought it was a good idea. Now... I am an artist and a craftsperson, but not a "working" either of them.
I am happy to say that I have FINALLY--for me--resolved the distinction between "artist" and "craftsperson. Everything I see and often what I hear, evokes a vision in my mind of something else that it could be, should be, wants to be--or just inspires. Colors, textures, materials, clouds, songs, wood, textiles, rocks, gems, shells, paper, huckleberry compote--they all come together. I see them all extended, aggregated, reduced--transcendent. That's the part of me that is an artist.
Realizing the visions in my head? That's the craftsperson, and in most instances I fail. There are many, many things in my head that I cannot realize. It is frustrating and disheartening, and the way it is. On the bright side, I see the work of other artists and craftspeople and I no longer want to make what they made for myself. Now I prefer to buy the work of others and admire it for what it is instead of thinking "I could do that." I am not driven to be able to do everything. I used to be driven to do everything except draw or paint--I always knew that those two were beyond my abilities to master, and I didn't love them enough to be willing to be mediocre at them. Same with dance and music. It takes time, focus, pain, and hard work to master those disciplines, and I could never see myself giving any of that to those disciplines.
For the things I do choose to create, the prospect of the production of mediocrity somehow doesn't bother me. I can see something beautiful in my creation even if it isn't technically masterful. I can feel the connection of the muscle memory in my hands with the vision in my head. This object that I just finished may be only okay, but the next one will be better and then better. I have the relationship with the muscles and nerves in my hands and the focus required to realize my visions of some things. Typically the things I do well at are things combined of objects that I already find beautiful. I see a selection of fabrics and a quilt appears in my head. I see gems and stones and a complex necklace in silver, gold, or copper coalesces in my brain. Glass still inspires me as much as did when I started working with it over 36 years ago, but now I have circled back to my first glass love--stained glass. Fusing no longer pulls me, and I don't have the patience for casting (too much time waiting for something to be done and too little time with my hands actually on it).
Wow. This was supposed to be a post on a quilting technique I just saw for the first time last week when I was buying batik fabric for more shirts for Dave. I fell into my own vision of a quilt using this technique, and I have given myself up to the rabbit hole. Ah well, there is always tomorrow. Today it is time to cut! I end by popping up a visual teaser for the quilting project at the top of this post.
2 comments:
No matter what material you use, you make beautiful things.
yes, some of us still blog...me. I'm making new work for the first time in a year and a half. And for the last six months I've been wondering if I was done with glass. my few forays into art were colored pencil drawings. some of my not working in 2020 was due to an unplanned complete remodel of the bathroom, building out the studio room in the shop which I then did not use for a year, and then finding, buying setting up a manufactured house on the shop property for my sister into which she moved last August, cleaning up the yard after the deep freeze. all that done and still I was not inspired to work. then Barbara at Kittrell/Riffkind called and asked if I would participate in the annual anniversary show. I said yes. so now I have two new pieces ready for molds and a drawing happening for another piece. But I'm no longer kidding myself, there is no expectation of making it or making any money at it, I've never been very prolific. the work I do now is for my own pleasure only. if it sells at the only gallery I have managed to hang onto, fine. if not, my kids will have to deal with it all after I'm gone.
Post a Comment