I haven't attempted any artwork in months. My kiln has been living out of sight under the dining room table since mid-December, but I quit working on anything long before that. I have wedged myself between the proverbial rock and a hard place. When I'm at home, if I do anything other than work on my resumes, I feel guilty. But by not doing anything creative... other than the "creativity" of my resumes {:>)... I feel like I have locked myself up in a prison with an indefinite sentence.
Last weekend I was invited to an art salon. These artists meet on a regular basis at each others' studios to critique their work. They opened up the group on this occasion in order to involve guests. I felt very honored to be part of this.
I took my "Mosaic of Memories" and talked about how I got started in tile painting.
As we went around the group, each artist talking about his or her piece, I was impressed with the diversity of the work and once again reminded of the ingenuity of the human spirit.
That humans are capable of taking mundane elements such as scraps of paper, fabric remnants, little blobs of paint, or formless blocks of stone or metal, and turning them into something worth looking at is truly mind boggling.
I came away from that meeting inspired to let my creative juices out of the bottle.
It didn't matter what, I had to do something... So the next day I got everything set up: dragged the kiln out from under the table, took out my glazes (couldn't even remember where I had hidden them!), found some old tiles already glazed, and painted over them. I knew that doing this would create a muddy mess, but I didn't want to ruin perfectly good pristine bisque tiles and I wasn't ready for my next project. Besides, I realized the point of this exercise was actually the process, not the outcome.
As I brushed the glazes on the tiles I was in the moment. There was no struggle. No question. No hesitation. I was four years old again, drawing on the wall of the shared bathroom in the boarding house where I lived with my parents. (Of course, when questioned, with the crayon stains still on my hands, I denied the act.)
When I was done with the glazing I felt a tremendous release. You know when you are craving a certain type of food (for me that would be bread) but you can't allow yourself to have it, and then one day you can no longer stand it so you buy two whole wheat bagels, eat them both in one sitting even though you may regret it the next day, and then realize the craving is gone... Okay, so you found me out... That's how I felt painting the tiles.
Then, placing the tiles in the kiln rack there was a sense of excitement, even though I could already see the result in my mind. (For those of you unfamiliar with ceramics, you may not know that, unlike painting on canvas, you cannot see the colors until they have been fired.) I let the kiln fire overnight. As my kiln is indoors I have to make sure there is plenty of ventilation which can make for a chilly night in the winter... fortunately, I don't live in Wisconsin. Also, I would like to note that it's important to be alert for anything unusual... like an explosion, for instance... just kidding. But you would never leave a kiln unattended, any more than you would leave your clothes dryer running while you went shopping... would you?
Around noon the next day the tiles were cool enough to remove. That's the best part. No matter how many years of experience you may have, there is always the surprise element. Some things look better than you expected, some worse, and some about the same. In this case I pretty much predicted the outcome so I wasn't disappointed. In fact, looking at them over the past few days, they are starting to grow on me. However, I will probably break them up and use them in my next mosaic.So, what is the moral of this story that compelled me to write about it? Number one lesson is that I must fit at least half an hour of artwork into my daily schedule, regardless of how many resumes I have or have not sent out that day. Number two is that for me the satisfaction is more in the process than the end result. Therefore, I should free myself of needing to have all my ducks in a row before I start out, because the outcome isn't that important anyway. Number three is that the weight of that horrible lie about the bathroom wall is now off my shoulders after all these years!
(photo copyright roslyn m wilkins)
Roslyn, I'm glad that you were able to make some time for your art. I know that guilty feeling. I get it too, all the time. It does help to set one afternoon aside just for creative play (or work) on a regular basis. I find that when I do this, It makes the other work flow a little easier.
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