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holding on to your milk money

March 8, 2011 in art, life | 4 comments

Easter, 1970. Ft. Bliss, Texas. (l-r) Tammy, Don, me.

There are few pluses growing up in a military family.  But, for what we went without, we didn’t miss.  So, I guess the pluses outweighed the minuses.  The balance was really closer to a cause and effect relationship.  For example, our medical and dental needs were taken care of.  That’s a plus.  However, stitches and novacain were administered sparingly.  As a result, minor injuries were never motivation to visit the ER and you took care of your teeth.

Also, military families have more opportunity than most to see the world (you moved a lot).  Even on the heels of my dad’s retirement, I ended up in three different high schools.  Being the new kid can be tough – more difficult in adolescence.  Seems making friends is easier when you’re hanging off the monkey bars, turning cartwheels on the black-top and still have cooties.

The new kid learns to survive.  I’ve been known to comment that I’m not overly impressed or easily intimidated by people.

The lesson begins early.  The thing is, if I’m unduly impressed by someone, I run the risk of compromising my beliefs.  In the military community, you are instilled with the ideal that you stand for something bigger than yourself.  The kid easily impressed by the playground hot shot ends up sacrificing his Friday milk money on an ice cream sandwich for the big guy on campus.  It’s a virtual dairy fast for the intimidated kid; that nickel amounts to collateral for the priviledge of being ignored.

Still, though people don’t intimidate me, situations can.  There’s this…I can’t necessarily control the situation or environment around me.  Hard to figure.  So, yeah…Dr. PhD Harvard or Rock Star Joe…pish!  But, an exhibition opening or dinner party (is there broccoli in my teeth?), they make me nervous.  Clearly out of my comfort zone.

To help stay my fears, I prioritize.  First on my list, find an enabler – someone who will help me through the event while dismissing my nervous tics as excitement.

With my list in hand, I’m planning something bigger than me.  An event.  The project is in the “throw the idea out to a few people” stage to see if there is any interest.  So far, the comments have been encouraging.  There will be much to undertake (intimidating).  I’ll not let you into the loop yet – still have a few cats to corral.

~The 10th Annual Self-Guided Ceramics Studio Tour
We had a great tour.  The weather was near perfect – less a little drizzle on Sunday.  I took the opportunity to chat with old friends, former students and meet several new-to-me clay enthusiasts…oh, and sold a bit of work too.  Good times!  Thanks for coming out!

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ch-ch-ch-cha-changes…

February 7, 2011 in art, life, teaching | 1 comment

Last week I arrived a little early for an appointment near my old neighborhood.  I took advantage of those few minutes to drive by the old house.  Our first house.  It was a bit of a fixer-upper.  It had been a rental for years; empty for the last year.  The previous occupants had not been easy on this home.  We did a lot of repairing, replacing, fumigating (oh the stories I could share…eek!), cleaning, deodorizing, and more cleaning.  Evidence suggested there were more varmints in the house than humans.

About 16 years ago, we sold that house to a couple that fell in love with the open floor plan, built in shelving, and hardwood floors.  Things they said reminded them of home (wherever that was).  They were comfortable.

~oh, so thankful for change

Perhaps too comfortable.

As I drove past the house, I noticed that they never changed the café curtains and fabric insets on the interior window shutters.  You may think nothing of keeping the same curtains for so many years (grandma did).  I understand that.  However, one of the rooms was our son’s nursery/toddler room.  So then, the primary polka-dot trimmed sunny yellow curtains hung in the window…still.  Supposing they used that room for a young child, their sweet little bundle or joy would be 15 years old today!  These people were way too comfortable.

Comfortable can be a good thing in that it provides a sense of security.  But comfortable also grows stale and can isolate; keep someone from learning, growing, stepping out, taking risks…changing.  Change is scary and necessary.  Too often we fight change.  Honestly, change is going to happen whether you choose to participate or not.  Committing to the latter simply magnifies the fear; overshadowing the lesson.

In my sculpture class, I have purposefully restricted technique applications to force students to change what they are comfortable with (I’ve been referred to as ‘the mean instructor’ – and a few other creative monikers – on more than one occasion).  But, just to be sure the students are stretching and pushing themselves, I also require that they work with a familiar material.  My goal is for them to take risks; to work with the familiar in an unfamiliar manner.  They are uncomfortable.  They fight and struggle.  It’s frustrating.

In the end, they learn; creating options they never thought possible.  One day they may appreciate the process – though, not any time soon.

10th Annual Ceramics Studio Tour

~mark your calendars!

The 10th Annual Self-Guided Ceramics Studio Tour
February 26-27, 2011
10am-4pm each day

I will be hosting three very talented artists: Genie Swanstrom, Sam Hodges and Sarah Brodie at my studio (#14).  Demontrations will take place at each studio site throughout the weekend.

This link will take you to The Ceramic Research Center’s Events page where you can download a map with the demontration schedule.

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love to all –

January 10, 2011 in life | 5 comments

I like getting mail.  Not junk mail.  But, real honest to goodness mail – particularly actual paper mail; that which keeps the postal service from shuttering it’s doors and requires a stamp.

Because I enjoy having the cobwebs knocked out of the mailbox by an occasional decorative envelop, I tend to send notes and letters; anticipating that others find as much joy as I do in a handwritten note.

This past Christmas, I sent out several Christmas cards – as I do most every year.  When I was a kid I couldn’t wait for the mail to arrive around Christmastime.  I would rush to pick up the mail as soon as it was delivered so I could read the cards first.

Not much has changed.  Each day during the holiday, I anticipate getting a couple cards.  I so enjoy the notes and sentiment.  However, this Christmas I had several sent cards returned.  They came back with postal service employee scribbles, question marks and a few acronyms…NSN (No Such Number?), AWK (Awkward?), etc.

This is a bit confusing since most were people I am fairly regularly in contact with.  I even felt the need to check the obituaries of one returned card sent to a dear friend that I worked with at the university (I was an undergraduate work-study student and she was on staff at the library).  Good news.  After a quick search, she appears to be alive and well.

With so much returned mail I came to this reasoned conclusion: the post office can’t read my handwriting.  Truthfully, they wouldn’t be the first.  My husband can’t read it (with ease) either.  In my own defense, this is not because I write poorly or indiscernible.  More so because, as my husband puts it, my ‘letters are loopy’.  Ok.  So I’ve got a bit of a flourish to my script.  It’s nothing out of the ordinary.  Really.

~detail: cursive chart

No.  I think the underlying culprit is that children are no longer required to write in cursive.  They learn it.  However, it doesn’t seem to be the required standard in the classroom.  Instead there is a focus on keyboard.  And so, they don’t master reading and writing cursive.

So then, if the postal worker sorting my mail is anywhere in their 30′s or younger, they likely can’t read handwritten cursive.  Just a theory.  We could test it by asking any teenager or 20-something to write a sentence in cursive with proper punctuation.  It’s even a bit of a struggle for some to provide an actual signature.  Theorizing….

One returned card was addressed to a home on Ash Street.  Scrawled (in block print) along the side was, “I s L E t a ?”.  Really?  There are twice as many letters.  The only thing they read correctly was the ‘s’.  This is sad.

~detail: Gregg Shorthand Manual, 1936

It occurred to me as I was met daily by my own cards in the mailbox: if we aren’t requiring cursive writing, and the population is quickly becoming unable to recognize the script, then we will soon extinguish another creative form of communication (…anyone remember shorthand?).The lines of the words connected by cursive lettering provide character, beauty and tone to a note.  There is a speed and fluid run from one letter to the next.  Even the spaces between words create a rythym on the page.  Beautiful lines!  Will we lose the ability to create lines connected with elegance and purpose?

I once mentioned to a collegue that I wished I could see a particular exhibition in Chicago of the works of Cy Twombly.  Her response was, “Why would you want to see Twombly?  Just a bunch of lines.”

Hero and Leander, 1985. Cy Twombly

Just a bunch of lines? No. I don’t see it that way.  They are marks that show emotion, direction and value.  Likewise, cursive handwriting illustrates those things with the added responsibility of a message.

I will continue to write – by hand.  I’m sending my grandmother some note cards and stamps.  She writes – in cursive (she’s 91…probably learned shorthand too).  Her letters are created with care as she jots down news about her day.  I’ll be looking for her letter in the mailbox.

love to all,

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counting the days in dog years

December 15, 2010 in art, life, teaching | 1 comment

There’s a song, All In by Lifehouse that goes, “I spent a week away from you last night…”.  Actually, it’s been 105 days since we last met.  That would amount to more than two years – lyrically speaking (or in the life of a dog).  So, it’s been awhile.

Sacrifice, Beth Shook

~detail: Sacrifice, 2010.

In my absence, life and art, the classroom and students, and due dates and deadlines converged.  Perhaps collide is a more appropriate term.

As October began, my 3-D students were becoming more comfortable with the pace of the course.  I was working to complete inventory pieces and exhibition work for the December show, Journal Entries and Margin Notes, at Practical Art.

Once November crept up (like a commando), a bit of apathy settled onto the classroom.  Thanksgiving was a welcome break.  In the studio, I was finishing up work for the exhibition; to be delivered the Saturday after Thanksgiving.  I felt ahead of the curve.  And so, a week earlier I accepted a commission/consignment with Bergies Roast Coffee House for mugs and other coffee related paraphernalia.  That curve quickly circled back on me.  A few more week long days allowed me to get Bergies a bit of inventory before Christmas (there’s more in the works).

Once December became reality, the students had discovered a fresh focus; largely because they were working with unfamiliar materials.  Their naïveté worked to their advantage as they took a leap of faith – with impressive results.

3-D student work

3-D Design: (l to r) C.Covino, alabaster subtractive sculpture. R. Protega, soapstone subtractive sculture.

3-D student work

3-D Design: (l to r) S. Gish, soapstone subtractive sculpture. D. Wilson, soapstone subtractive sculpture.

In the days preceding December, when I delivered my six small pieces for the show, I was assaulted by fear and doubt.  What I had considered a small exhibition space suddenly seemed three times the size I remembered.  Had I really misinterpreted the area?  Panic.  Prayer.  My stomach felt sick.

I saw the work installed for the first time at the reception, 10 days later.  The work held it’s own in the space.  Strong as individual pieces; impressive as a body of work.  Deep breath.  (Thank you, Lord).  The reception was lovely.  I chatted with old friends and made some new acquaintances.  The show will be up through the end of December.  If you have the opportunity, stop in to check it out.

~a little press/PR about the show:

Clay-Ground: Local artist journals with mud, Phoenix New Times.

Ceramics and Chinatown: A guest blog by Beth Shook, practicalartphx.wordpress.com

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missing clay

August 29, 2010 in art, life, teaching | No comments

Oh my! August has been the craziest month.  I’ve come to the realization that August is the end of everything and the beginning of everything else.

August signals the coming end of summer; an end to the routine-free days of fun for the kids.  Yet, a day without routine affects all else – meals, laundry, work, cleaning, sleep, and motivation.

So as August ends, the rest begins.  School starts and throws the kids into a pattern of sleep, eat, class, practice, study, sleep….  Scheduling, planning, consistency in a day/week are helpful – even welcome to me.

As the month began, I started gearing up for a teaching position.  After a three year absence, I am back in the classroom.  I was ready to return.

~ sketch for 'Appropriate Everything'

However, it became immediately obvious how three years can change the mechanics of instruction.  In reality, I haven’t taught this particular course since the late 90′s.  Any idea of the monumental leaps and bounds in which technology has changed the classroom (a show of hands) in three years?  Ten years?

I still had support materials for the course but in an obsolete format (yep, slides).  Even my lecture materials were on a ‘read only’ file.  It’s been/will continue to be a lot of work to stay ahead of the curve until I get updated, upgraded, and uploaded.

The conversion of my course materials has thrown my studio schedule into nearly nonexistent.  Though I haven’t completely neglected my artwork the same may not be said of properly cleaning the house.  I’ve been missing clay the past couple weeks.

While I haven’t had the opportunity to play in the mud lately, I have been drawing.  Drawings always lead to clay – at least in my world.

As scheduled, clay and I will begin again on Monday.

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