the ways and means

July 25, 2011 in art, events, life | 1 comment

As I write, I’m sitting in my very warm studio firing a bisque.  The AC is set at 90°.  An occillating fan is moving the air about a little (it helps).  My kiln is old (read: not computerized), so I’ve got a few more hours in the studio while I turn up switches.  Once I get them alll on ‘high’, I’ll head home – only to return at the approximate time and temperature the witness cone should drop.

My faith in the kiln sitter has been shaken since I had a pyrometric bar fuse to the sensing rod on the sitter.  Overfired the load and warped shelves.  Created several redundant shelf sculpures that took endless hours to chisel apart (no fun).  So then, I make every attempt to be back when the witness cone goes down.

This firing is the first I’ve done since May.  Feeling a bit unproductive during these sizzling summer months.  Nevertheless, I have lived vicariously through a few ceramic artists’ blogs – people that seem to have more creative energy than I ever will.  They are not just productive, but prolific.  (Wow, feeling tinges of guilt…call me a slacker)  I guess I should be doing much more.

But, the day only has so many hours.  And, frankly, there is a correlation between the dry summer heat and clay work.  That delicate balance to successfully deal with handles without them cracking (tea bowls vs. coffee mugs)…or the precise hour available to trim when the clay is still cooperative (light, well designed work vs. paperweight).  If you do any decorative surface work early in the process, your window is shorter still.

Excuses? eh….

What I’ve taken away from those prolific producers of ceramic wares is that I’m not them.  Ceramics.  Clay.  Art…is what I do.  I love what I do.  Create.  On many levels it’s how I communicate – through process, image, surface and occupied space.

However, it is not who I am.  If I were to make a list of roles I fill, ceramic artist would be but one.  Those roles will change over time.  But, who I am will remain constant.  I am a child of God, a follower of Christ.  That doesn’t change.  Yet, it drives the ways and means of the things I do.

Fabens

What I do is secondary and clay would follow things like wife, mom, friend, chief cook and bottle washer, preferred human obsession to our quirky dog (seperation issues), et. al….

I suppose until clay makes it’s way closer to the top of the list, I will never be as productive as some artists.  I think it important to keep perspective.  What I do is not necessarily who I am but an avenue to be myself.

(Man, it’s getting hot in here!)

 

Mark Your Calendars!  Plan to Attend!

Cap, Cup and Mug Sale, Show and Trade

October 7-8, 2011
Friday, 6-9pm
Saturday, 9am-4pm

dessadog studio
1410 W. Guadalupe Rd, bldg. 1 ste. 103
Gilbert, AZ 85233

~a sale of handmade cups and mugs by more than 30 local artists.
~bring in a new knit cap or socks for Set Free Ministries and receive a 10% discount on one cup or mug.

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life markers

June 2, 2011 in art, life | 2 comments

Lately I’ve been thinking about life markers.  Not milestones so much, but life markers.  Milestones seem to imply happy ‘firsts’, like a child’s first steps, a first kiss, or a first job.  It’s a reference mark of completion; signifying distance traveled in a general forward direction.  Accomplishing a task that leads to the next logical step.  Children walk, then run, then they ask for the keys to the car.  Milestones.

~sketch detail

However, life markers don’t always seem the result of a happy first; not always moving forward.  Sometimes they make me sit still (if just for a little while), maybe even turn away.  Perhaps semantics.  But, that’s sort of how things roll around in my head.

Visually, I see milestones marked with a gold star, an endearing awkward photo, a framed dollar bill.  Whereas a life marker might be denoted by a wrestling of wills, vulnerable prayer and petition, revelation.  One might lead to the other – a first job develops character and independence.  They sometimes cross each other – the accomplishment of graduation and the beginning of a new reality.  Despite the fuzzy edges, they feel so very different.

As this semester was coming to an end, I was fielding a lot of student questions.

  • What next?
  • What do I do with this passion?
  • Where do we go from here?

Common queries as students begin to look ahead.  The questions, answers, and discussions brought me back to a languishing photo I had taken for a drawing.  The image is one of struggle and determination; an altar.  A marker as a reminder that God has revealed Himself  – at this time, in this place, for His purpose.

Once classes were finished, I started a bit of research and began a little ear bending (thanks, Monica). The dialogue continues as I consider those times in my life that have brought about a transformed vision; revelation.  The tumbling of the idea of life markers is distracting, sometimes painful.  The struggle is part of the process.  Apropos.

In the works!

The Cap, Cup, and Mug Sale, Show and Trade
October 7 and 8, 2011

~ a sale of cups and mugs from 30 artists (and counting) from around the valley.
~ the collecting of knit hats and socks for Set Free Ministries.
~ more specifics will be available as we get closer to the event.

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a thimble full

April 24, 2011 in art, teaching | 4 comments

A couple three years ago, I was sitting with several other artists in a back office of the Ceramics Research Center shuffling through artist entries to a call for artists for the upcoming studio tour.  We had been sorting out the returning artists and the new artists.

Jeremy Briddell

Jeremy Briddell, Four and Two, 2004.

That year, I was sitting out the tour.  My studio was slated for demolition by the town.  We’d lost our fight…or resigned ourselves to move on.

The year off would require that I reapply and be juried back into the tour the following year.  As we organized the artists’ images (an impressive lot of work), I commented to myself…out loud, “I may not make it back in the tour.”

On the heals of my statement, Jeremy Briddell replied, “A room full of artists and not enough self-esteem to fill a thimble.”  Brief silence was followed by a chorus of affirmation.

Through the semester I encourage students to enter shows.  My attempts to top off the thimble are often resisted.  Students generally present their hesitation by stating that they don’t know what to do.  I offer to help them – proof read bios and statements, and take images if necessary.  I’ve been known to bribe students with extra credit for entering shows – no need to be accepted.  I just want them to go through the process.  They resist.  I heard somewhere that a room full of artists couldn’t fill a thimble with self esteem.

This exhibition season I’d like to note a few shows that include the work of friends and fellow artists, former students, and current students:

AZ Clay Annual Exhibit, March 18 – April 16, 2010

Shemer House of Fun, April 21 – May 25, 2010
Shemer Art Center and Museum

Gila River Review: Online Literary Journal at Chandler-Gilbert Community College
Spring 2011, Issue 3

Arte Latino en la Ciudad, May 6 – 27, 2010
Phoenix Center for the Arts

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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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