Three Things, none planned.
Clay is ancient and wise; you have to catch creativity when it comes; "only a blinking eye can measure the light".
Three Things, none planned.
This week I gave up my Friday morning to talk to the children at my son’s primary school about my job as a potter (feel free to see my website here and buy a pot or three!). I prepared a powerpoint and rehearsed a solid 10-minute talk covering the ins and outs of my job. But what surprised me about the experience is how quickly the children and I connected over one simple thing: clay.
My talk begins with me handing a small lump of clay round the room; the children prod, poke, shape into bowls. After each talk (alas, I repeat it 12 times to different classes) the clay is hot, dry, starting to crack and I need to refresh and rejuvenate with water. Back to square one, new possibilities, 12 times. And each time the children tell tales of discovering clay in their gardens, or the projects they have already completed. They all know clay. I tell them how clay is a very exciting, common but special material, in that, by the time we encounter it, it is already a material that has undergone thousands of years of transformation from rock, eroding slowly, slowly in the sludgy, plastic and most pleasing of materials. By the time we start a project, the clay is already ancient and wise. I tell them of the importance of respecting our materials, of trying to make only the best possible things from these gifts from the earth. And they nod in total agreement, yes, the world needs to be looked after, yes.
Earlier in the week, on one of my regular studio days in which I have full childcare and a huge to do list of production tasks to get through, I abandon all senses and start a new project. I really don’t have the time for this sideways move but sometimes ideas and the desire to just be creative, to play, is strong. I quickly make a series of pinch pots, some hand-built, some press moulded into an old plaster mould I have lying around and Matt kindly throws me six very shallow bowls. Using found materials,; leaves, flowers, shells, grasses, I press and stamp and create impressions on the surface, painting over slip to create layers and layers. It is a quick and creative way to get all the ideas out of my head and into the world. I feel so guilty about taking this time to create and play, rather than doing all the tasks I should be doing, especially when my children are at daycare. But I also realise that it is so important to catch the inspiration when it comes along. Who knows where any of this will take me? And also, a reminder to myself, we amount to more than just the productivity of our labour. We are human, we need to feel, play, create, think and reflect.
“We are human, we need to feel, play, create, think and reflect.”
Above, using astrantia leaves to create marks, below, mark-making with a shell.
Thirdly, a book and the discovery of a new substack newsletter. Each week, on a Thursday, I take my three kids to the library after school. Whilst the 8-year picks out a new book; the 4-year old de-constructs the neatly put away jigsaw puzzles and the 1-year old crawls around happily, I sneak away for a moment to see if there are any new recipe books, which is dangerously close to the craft / art section. I say dangerously, only because I already have so many creative hobbies and projects underway, unfinished. It’s a very tiny library so I get quite familiar with the books on offer. But this week a book twinkles at me and I can’t resist. it is ‘Make Ink , A Forager’s Guide to Natural Inkmaking’ by Jason Logan of the Toronto Ink Company. It is such a wonderful book, written beautifully too. I will consume it, write out some recipes, collect some store cupboard materials and I plan to spend the summer holidays doing some ink making with the children. Not at all for me, absolutely not. This is all for the kids, not another project for me. I promise.
“Only a blinking eye can measure the light.” - Sandra Beasley, “Inventory”:
