The trajectory of style

Once upon a time I think I must have been a good teacher….. These are thoughts from three years ago, when I was helping to pay my bills by sharing knowledge with eager students. Distant days, I’m afraid… I can almost remember what teaching was like.


I just finished teaching a course at the community arts center that was hugely ambitious but probably not as immediately useful to the students as I had hoped. My plan was that the ‘advanced/intermediate’ potters who signed up for the class would all work on finding some coherent aesthetic direction in a run of pots. Where I teach the classes mostly focus on specific techniques, specific types of forms, specific functional issues, but almost never on aesthetic considerations. So this class was my attempt to get students to start figuring out what kinds of things they liked about specific pots (or pots in general) and to see how those ideas could translate across a variety of shapes and forms.

I realized that the first day of class I would need to expose them to what other potters do that serves as an exploration of particular ideas and interests. For instance…

View original post 1,703 more words

Posted in Art | 1 Comment

“What gets you up in the morning?” and other wisdom from the Linda Christianson workshop, acts one and two

A few weekends ago I had the good fortune to attend a workshop offered by Linda Christianson. She is not a stranger to me. She was, in fact, my teacher back in the day. Could that really have been almost 25 years ago? She is also an amazing human being. She is just about the kindest most generous person I know, and her wisdom penetrates to the heart of so many issues.

The timing of this workshop could not have come at a better moment for me. I had been suffering a loss of confidence in my life as an artist, I just couldn’t see ‘why art?’ anymore. I needed someone to set me straight…. I was lucky our paths crossed again when they did.

So much of what she had to say was familiar to me from those long ago days. I was even surprised at how much of my own teachings were apparently learned at the wheel she was spinning. I’m not sure I had given her the credit she deserves for making me the potter and teacher that I am. Of course there were differences, important differences. At some point the student must strike out on their own, become their own person with their own motivations. And yet no matter how far we travel, the apple still falls from the tree. And the distance between the two only means there is still more that can be learned……

The stage is set.

Enter Linda, stage left.

Act one: What gets you up in the morning?

At one point in the workshop Ted, another of my former teachers, asked Linda “What part of the process is most fun for you?” She stopped to consider, and after a few moments replied that none of it was really that fun. Maybe this was the response I was least expecting to hear but the one that was the most important to absorb. She said, “Making pots is not fun, or at least not always fun” to paraphrase. Instead, “What is fun is the opportunity to make pots.”

In my state of crisis I could no longer see that making pots was fun, and Linda telling me that it’s not supposed to be ‘fun’ was a revelation. If it was no longer fun for me I had permission for it to not be fun. I need not expect it to be fun. I wasn’t missing something necessary nor even necessarily important. Fun wasn’t the point of making pots. At least, not everyone makes pots because its fun. Meaning could be derived from other sources.

As Linda put it, the opportunity to make pots was the thrilling part. THAT was something that could get a person up in the morning. The making of pots itself did not need to be fun. We don’t need the pressure of the making itself to be the fun part, because when it isn’t fun we would be robbed of that driving reason. We could see the absence of fun, as I then did, as indicating the reason to make pots was also absent.

‘Fun’ was a dangerous motivation to make pots. It stood on shifting sands. We might need something more solid, or if not solid, less unstable. Opportunity is merely the potential for meaning. It does not get knocked off its perch so easily. ‘Fun’ is temporary and coincidental, too subject to accidents. Fun is purely psychological whereas ‘opportunity’ is larger than the contents of our own psyches. If the opportunity to make pots is what motivates us, we may or may not make pots, but the opportunity often survives. Opportunity can be destroyed, but not as easily as fun.

End of act one, curtain closes

Curtain rises, altered setting

Artists face many obstacles. If you have listened to me drone on for any length you might get the impression that artists are alternately imprisoned in cages, puppets of their own branding, in need of counselling, suffer an imperiled morality, need to get ‘honest’ jobs, should ditch their inevitable and shameless prostitution, run off to monasteries and subsist on bread and water, and otherwise face such overwhelming odds that it makes little sense to step outside the door each day.

Of course I never said any of those things literally. Pointing out you could catch a cold from being in a room with strangers does not mean we already need a course of antibiotics. Observing that crossing a street could get us mangled by a speeding car, doesn’t indicate that we already need drastic surgery before the first step is taken. Pointing out the possibility of consequences is not an argument that we need to treat the world as though it already suffered these debilities. Just that we should be cautious crossing streets, and that we can later look for the signs of a lingering cough and a runny nose. We have been warned. Possibility is important in the same respect that opportunity was in act one.

Act two: The least among you shall be the greatest and the greatest the least

Linda sits at the wheel and gazes out at the audience

An obstacle I have not done much work in framing came up as Linda talked about putting handles on cups. She told us, “Find the worst one and try to make it the best, and find the best and treat it as nothing special.” I think if we are serious about our art these are ideas worth hearing. We could, alternately, find the worst and simply discard it. We could also find the best and put it on a pedestal. We in fact do these things all the time. So why did Linda ‘caution’ us to (sometimes at least) do the opposite?

When we later had a chance to converse she explained that for her one way to keep engaged with the opportunity was to “make a game of the next step.” In this way each little grouping of pots was treated as a family unit and they could be organized best among themselves. The focus would be on progressing the group of pots instead of some independent aspiration: Helping the family thrive rather than sending Johnny off to college.

I took another lesson from this, knowing my own temptations, and because it is rare that I would treat the group of pots as their own unit. I get distracted by ideals. Because human nature often plunges us headlong in the direction we are already going. If we value the least and the worst poorly it become easy to dismiss these things and not have the chance to learn from them. If we do not attempt to transform the worst into the best we have no idea what its potential value is. Its bad. It can be discarded.

Similarly, by only valuing the best we… only value the best. These are two sides of the same coin. Linda was cautioning us, again, not to get carried away in promoting only ‘the best’. We too often make too much of it. It is a gallery game rather than a studio game. It makes our world a more shallow place. It pretends that the only things worth considering are the ones deserving acclaim. We need to remember to see the world with more depth. And the game of seeing a group of pots as a family unit is one such step. It places nuance where idealization might otherwise stand.

And so, “Make the worst one be the best, and treat the best one as nothing special.”

End of act two, curtain closes


Posted in Art, Arts education, Ceramics, Creative industry, Creativity, Imagination, metacognition, Pottery | 2 Comments


Last year must have been a fertile time for my brain. All sorts of interesting things keep popping up in my facebook ‘memories’, and I am tempted to simply share them all again and with you all here. Turns out this was posted on the blog last year and it resonated with folks. Go back to that original post and check out the comments. Here is what I had to say:

I once used to think I was from here. My parents told me stories of my upbringing and I had memories of specific joyful things. It turns out that the first day I went to high school I discovered I did not belong where I was. I had somehow arrived at a new and very different place where all the familiar ways of doing things no longer made sense. But I know I hadn’t gone anywhere special. Not then.

Perhaps the transition had been earlier. I remembered my first day of grade school. I had a brand new coat. Some kid took it and gave me his. I knew then that I was not from here. And I can remember even further back. My mom and I were walking on a busy street in downtown Philadelphia and I was holding her hand. Only, when I looked up it was the hand of a stranger. After a few moments of shocked outrage my real mom found me and the sunny summer day went on again.

So maybe its not that we physically have to leave our home planet to be aliens here. I get confused all the time, the world stops making sense, and I look into others’ eyes and have no sense of what they mean. Perhaps being alien comes with our birth. Maybe only some of us, but maybe all of us. Perhaps its like blue jays placing their eggs in other birds nests: When we are born we are born to the wrong parents, sisters and brothers, and we never fit in just right. We find ourselves in the wrong places all the time. The jobs we get as adults we don’t always belong at. Life sometimes fits like a pair of jeans that are three sizes too small.

But the alien in us is not the only traveler. Sometimes we DO belong. Sometimes a friend is there for us, can say exactly the right words to turn us from alien back to belonging. Sometimes we are part of things bigger than ourselves. And while it may be a struggle at times and even make us angry, there are things we believe in that give purpose to our life and are indelibly who we are. Every good parent knows a purpose that is defining. Even the alien in us can carve out a space where it belongs, where it can be who it needs to be. Every artist probably knows exactly what I’m talking about.

What a strange life it is to be human! How lucky I feel that I have friends who remind me that I am not out of place at all times. There are homes for me in many people’s lives. I belong to others as they belong to me. There is a studio that welcomes me in the good times and bad. And pushing clay around on a wheel makes me feel both alive and somehow strangely whole. And isn’t that just wonderful 🙂


This is something I posted on facebook the other day and wanted to share it here. It may be the first non-specifically-art related post I have put here. I hope it speaks to artists. I think it does.



Posted in Art, Imagination, metacognition | Leave a comment

Repost: The Rules of Communication

A post I wrote one year ago today that seems a significant part of the conversation on this blog the past few entries:

The rules of communication

Lately I have been engaged in a number of conversations about meaning in the arts and art as a form of communication. The inimitable Chuck Wendig had a decent post on why breaking grammatical rules was okay. I agreed with everything he said except the following:

“I’m fond of saying that we need to learn the rules of writing in order to break them, and we need to break the rules of writing in order to learn why we need them in the first place.”

My response was:

Don’t give rules too much credit. At least, don’t credit them with some sort of objective value. We don’t *need* to learn THE rules. We need to learn some rules, a variety perhaps, and use them according to situations and our intentions. The need is merely that some sort of structure is the conveyance of meaning, but the structure itself is negotiable.

We are given a deck of 52 cards: What are the rules? We have to decide what game we are playing first for any rules to even make sense. The rules have no value outside the game being played. A queen is more valuable than an 8? A spade more valuable than a diamond? You have to follow the 6 of clubs with either a club or another 6? Neither of those? None of this matters unless you are playing a specific game by specific rules, and the rules only stand for that one game.

Is this a good hand or a bad hand? How can you tell? Dueces wild? Jacks wild? Go fish? Hearts? Spades? Bridge?........

Is this a good hand or a bad hand? How can you tell? Dueces wild? Jacks wild? Go fish? Hearts? Spades? Bridge?…….. The number of games this could be a hand to are almost limitless. The cards don’t tell you what game you are playing, the game does.

Our use of language is exactly like that. And art is a language so this is specifically about art too. There isn’t one set of rules that governs all applications. Objective values in art and most other forms of communication are a hobgoblin of peculiar minds. What we mean we mean within the confines of how and why we are expressing ourselves. And there are so many rules that its almost a miracle we can figure each other out. Think of the possible types and expressions of art and you get a sense. How is it possible we convey meaning with art? One set of rules?

It may not be self evident what game we are playing, but we are masters of our native tongue, and there is often enough evidence that a person ‘speaking’ sensibly can provide the clues that will make sense for us too. We start out accepting different things as meaningful, but we can be bridge that gap. We have different values, but we can find sympathies and even crossovers. We can learn to read a new language and to speak it ourselves.

Narrowing the acceptable rules to just a handful is a misunderstanding of rules and a discredit to our native manipulation of rules. It stands in defiance of the fluidity of communication itself. Language is like a tool, and we use it for a variety of purposes. Each purpose asks us to use language in a more or less specific way. But each purpose asks different things, and we can even invent new purposes as well as innovate tools. So language can be thought of as doing many jobs, and each of these jobs performs a task in an occasionally different manner from other tasks. The point being that its not ‘the same‘ task in all cases.

Language is a tool kit for a variety of purposes. Imagine it like this. You can use a bowl to drink soup and eat chili, among other things. A plate is not as good for soup, but a cup may be less useful for chili. Are we drinking soup or eating chili? What vessel are we going to use? We almost always have options. Language is that vessel. Art is that vessel. So:

Rules? Don’t be a slave to rules. Ask first what we are trying to do, and then you may find there is more than one way of getting what you want. There can be a variety of tool uses that achieve our purpose. The purpose we have is the important thing, not the rules for using specific tools. A hammer is not governed by the rules for using a saw. Don’t put the cart before the horse…….

An hour or so after I posted that comment I saw a response to a different conversation in another thread. This was a facebook post about whether the theater needed to be meaningful in a particular way or even to be understood on some level to be successful. I had said:

Not every story is an exercise in meaning, and not every meaning is absolute. Sometimes meaning is important and other times its not. Sometimes one meaning is prominent and other times there are many things meant, many intentions, and none necessarily standing for the whole more than the others. And sometimes the meaning is open ended, and left purposely vague. Sometimes it is designed in such a way that it can only be completed by the audience. Sometimes it is an ending that only we ourselves can write.

A story can phase from the overt to the hidden, it can blend our own understanding with the intention of the authors. It can even be without intention. A story is not one thing but many. A story is both something finite and final and alive and evolving. If we get any part of that we will have given it a home in our minds, hearts, and souls…..

The person responding said:

“Oh for crying out loud. Theater is about communication. If you don’t want to communicate, keep the manuscript in your desk drawer instead of putting it on a stage.” (Apparently this guy teaches theater at a University)

My response was:

I agree that the theater is at least significantly about communication but it seems there is not one single sense in which it communicates. Is making a statement the same as engaging in a dialog? Is asking a question the same as pointing to possibilities? Is having an answer the same as laying out a scenario? Is giving one’s personal perspective the same as making universal claims? Is telling a joke the same as revealing bitter truths? Is giving us something to ponder the same as asking for advice? Is expressing oneself the same as communicating?

I’m just not sure you can leave it at theater being ‘about communication’ without accepting that communication takes many forms and that meaning is portrayed and invested differently depending on how and why things are communicative. If it were simple we wouldn’t have both comedies and tragedies. We wouldn’t have entertainment pieces and serious explorations of the human condition.

And if we can have this breadth of meaning it seems reasonable that communication can fail. It also seems that communication doesn’t need to be the point. Some things are worth saying even if they are likely to be misunderstood. We can express ourselves for a variety of purposes, not all of which are designed to ‘communicate’. You can say something to point things out and you can say things to deflect and draw away. Is subterfuge communication per se? You can cheer your successes to hide your shortcomings. You can speak your mind to cover your ignorance……. And you can make mistakes and be mistaken.

So communication, yes, but that still hasn’t said anything interesting.


Stuff to think about, at least 🙂



Posted in Art, Creative industry, metacognition | Leave a comment

Intention and Execution

So… more than one person is having difficulty with my recent posts. I put them out there, and undoubtedly I could have done things differently. I will take that blame and accept that my own intentions and their execution are further divided by what gets understood once these ideas are sent out in the world. As I’ve said plenty of times before, there is a sometimes radical disconnect between expression and communication.

And we thought being artists was hard! Making sense in a language most people don’t understand as we do, don’t comprehend as natives, the things we ourselves see and attempt to pass on are both elusive and illusory in the hands and minds of outsiders…. And the irony being that our own native spoken language only gives us the appearance of direct communication.

There is no ideal to communication. No exact meeting of minds. We do not fundamentally grasp what other people are saying simply by having the same words at our disposal. We approximate. The rules of interpretation are much looser than for things like mathematics and physics. There is no one right and obvious answer.

Spoken language is different. Sometimes the familiarity itself breeds misunderstanding. We look at the words themselves as manifesting the intention, and yet we mistake that intention all the time. It’s as if the intentions were located behind the words.

Our agreement in language is only imprecise. It is a gossamer thread on a breezy day. Convention overlaps harmoniously enough that we identify as a culture, as speakers of particular languages, but the veneer of our shared words hides many worlds. Our different assumptions and the staring places of incredibly diverse values and motivations lead us in often opposite ways.

Misunderstanding is like standing in an archery field: You are going about your business and some damn fool sends a volley close enough to almost hit you. You feel yourself threatened. Where you stand and what you stand for are under attack. Never mind that the archer was aiming at something entirely different and in fact may have hit precisely what she aimed at. You are more concerned with the close call, the brush back, and it certainly seems like your truths were being aimed at.

Because we all understand the world as we do, not as other people do, we are outsiders to each other in a fundamental sense. And so when someone says something that has the appearance of threatening our values it is only natural to read into the words that this-is-how-they-were-intended. We understand on our own terms, not always necessarily on the terms that others practice their own understanding. There can be happy agreement, and there usually is. But the blissful harmony is exposed for its fragility when things go wrong. Mostly we hope others are not entirely opaque to us and just get on with our business. La di da di da…..


Apparently my last few essays have been interpreted in drastically different ways from what I intended. I am concerned at how words so clear to me, that mean something specific to me, could so clearly mean something different to someone else.

So what did I say that I apparently only thought adequately expressed my intentions?

  • “being an artist is not like other jobs”
  • “making our art specifically as a means to earn a living confuses getting paid with making art.”
  • “Making a living as an artist is essentially a conflict of interest”
  • “Professional artists have both a calling and a job.”
  • “In an important sense artists are there to serve their art, and not the art being there to serve the artist. And yet it somehow must…..”
  • “Almost anything can be bought and sold, but does that mean it should? Does having a skill, a good, or service automatically mean its for sale?”
  • “The issue is whether something we do for its own sake, for our own sake, should also be thought of as something we do for marketplace reasons.”
  • “Just because it LOOKS like a marketplace good or service does not mean that we are always supposed to treat it that way.”
  • “They will start to learn that the reason they are doing things is no longer because they are the right things to do, that they should be doing them, but instead that they will get rewarded for doing them.”
  • “The more focused we are on the bottom line the less attention we have for the wonder.”
  • “What we think important may not be what others even find interesting.”
  • “when we don’t get what an artist is saying its not always a failure to communicate but sometimes rather a different and unfamiliar agenda.” (And boy was that ever a prophetic conclusion for that post!)

Now somehow several people took all this as me saying that ‘artists are prostitutes’ and ‘bad children’, when those scenarios were merely examples used to make my argument. The one just stated above. THAT was what I intended. They were not the argument itself. And saying that these examples reflect on issues that artists face at most says that we share similar difficulties. At most we are like these people in some respect. Not that we are them. The sense that artists like getting paid is something many of us have in common with people in EVERY profession. I was simply making the point that:

  • “Almost anything can be bought and sold, but does that mean it should? Does having a skill, a good, or service automatically mean its for sale?”

And the answer is that for some of us certain things are too personal to make commerce easy. For others is is not. And that’s okay too. Far from making these people actual prostitutes it makes them like bankers and house painters, like landscapers and architects, like doctors and cabdrivers…. If you are not conflicted by selling the goods you have you are just like many other people in that regard. Amazingly and yet apparently problematically that makes you just like sex workers too, in addition to the bankers and cab drivers. The point behind using sex as an example is that

  1. it makes non-professional people uncomfortable as a marketplace value
  2. there is a whole industry that supports people doing it

The tension I am describing is that in the first instance some people have a value that is not connected to money, is compromised by it, and in the second that some people have a value that is dependent on money. People are motivated by different things. Right? And people who find themselves in the position of needing to place monetary value on things they hold dear for other reasons is what we call:

  • “a conflict of interest”

In other words,

  • “being an artist is not like other jobs” for some, at least,

and therefor for many,

  • “Professional artists have both a calling and a job.”


Maybe this explains what I was suggesting a bit better? I take full responsibility that my words were so easily misunderstood. I was perhaps sacrificing clarity for the sake of a flowing exposition. But if it is still unclear that I am NOT calling artists ‘hookers’ or ‘bad children’ I invite anyone who still sees me saying those things to copy and paste any condemning passages or phrases from the original essays into the comments here. I want know where I went wrong, where my intentions were less clear, where I encouraged these misunderstandings, and any other information that will help me do a better job next time.

Artists serve many masters, and it is shortsighted to imagine the pull between placating them all is entirely smooth sailing. We have, often times,

  • “a conflict of interest”

And if some artists are steadfast in maintaining their sanity, that their daily practice does not thrust these troubles to the surface in a desperate and often schizophrenic scramble to appease many masters, that is not to say that others do not. Our own placid demeanor is no measure of the conflict writhing in the minds of other people. We are lucky if money is the biggest source of our internal conflict. We are lucky if our many masters do not end up tearing us down, as it does so many others….


And if some out there still feel I am just making this stuff up, there has been decades of research on how these very issues play out for people. In fact, the ‘sex’ example is not even my own invention. If there still is difficulty understanding what I am getting at I can only direct you to this great article by a very smart guy who compiles some of the relevant research in psychology and studies done by behavioral economists. You can read that here:

The Overjustification Effect

All I can say is I tried. My intentions were pure, if my execution perhaps less so.

Peace all

Happy potting

Make beauty real

Make a difference that matters


Posted in Art, Creative industry, metacognition, Pottery | 1 Comment

Is this an artist’s statement I should give to the folks at AKAR?

Hello virtual brain trust! I need your opinion. I need to give an artist’s statement and in the state I’m in I don’t really want to talk about my own work. I don’t want to make it personal until I rediscover why I’m making pots. Which doesn’t mean that all my pots are bad pots, just that the reasons I had for making them elude me at the moment. Everything I’ve said in the past sounds hollow and trite. It seems false to my current state of mind. And I’d like to be honest, at least in demonstrating why being an artist is not all champagne and roses.

So give a brother a hand, will you? Is this worth sending to AKAR?


One of the important questions artists ask themselves is “Where do I find wonder? By what am I amazed?” Artists who are serious about doing what they do are usually engaged in research exploring those things. We have questions about the world. Not merely what it is, but what it could be. We seek to add more of the wonder, more of the amazing, and make our world better as a result. Because we believe that doing this is the right thing. Because it is our moral obligation, our responsibility to remake the world, that we see important differences and are compelled to act on them. Artists are not merely driven by what the world already contains, but by what it should contain. And we make.

So being an artist is not like other jobs, and its not always about becoming well off or even always earning a living. That is not usually the point. Sure, we have to eat and pay bills, but there are many means to those ends. And making our art specifically as a means to earn a living confuses getting paid with making art. It can’t just be about the money. Artists are motivated in other ways, and the living we earn is sometimes secondary to our ability to get the right things done. The more we are making a product for the market the less we are engaged in pure research. The more that gets tied up in communicating with an audience the less purely we are expressing our own amazement. The more focused we are on the bottom line the less attention we have for the wonder. Simply put, things other than our curiosity typically pay much better.

Making a living as an artist is essentially a conflict of interest, and rather than reducing the extremes to find a safe middle ground we often simply reconcile ourselves to an implicit schizophrenia. Professional artists have both a calling and a job. What we think important may not be what others even find interesting. That is a hazard. We can’t just make what the public will buy, but we can’t often only make what our own instincts tell us. In an important sense artists are there to serve their art, and not the art being there to serve the artist. And yet it somehow must…..

From the outside the starving artist makes no sense. From the inside it can make perfect sense. Starving artists are admonished to simply “be better business people”, as if that would solve all problems. But the issue is deeper than simply being good at business. Almost anything can be bought and sold, but does that mean it should? Does having a skill, a good, or service automatically mean its for sale? That is a big question, and mostly we don’t know how to answer it.

For instance, the sex industry is enormous, and it just so happens that most of us enjoy lovemaking in our free time. Are we supposed to be getting paid for it? The issue is whether something we do for its own sake, for our own sake, should also be thought of as something we do for marketplace reasons. Does confusing the two cause us problems, or are we just happy to get paid? Every person denying the reality of the starving artist thinks it is enough just to get paid. They do not understand the conflict.

So here is an experiment. If you have a lover, the next time you make love make it a transaction. Puts some cash on the table and let them know how much you enjoyed their services rendered. Who knows, maybe they should be getting paid! But my best guess is that you will be slapped for insulting them. Something we do for love’s sake is not supposed to get measured by the cash we can get for it. Just because it LOOKS like a marketplace good or service does not mean that we are always supposed to treat it that way. Remember, the sex trade is HUGE. Why shouldn’t we get paid or have to pay?

There is another danger in looking at our intrinsically motivated activities as extrinsic: We can lose sight of our original motivation by getting paid. This is a real threat for artists. Another experiment: If you have kids, try paying them every time they did something right. Studied homework? $5! Took out the trash? $10! Nice to your sister? $15!

If you are hoping they will learn to value doing homework and other ‘chores’ unfortunately the last thing you should do is pay them for it. This substitutes one form of value for another. The idea that they are a chore implies something onerous rather than simply good to do on its own. They will start to learn that the reason they are doing things is no longer because they are the right things to do, that they should be doing them, but instead that they will get rewarded for doing them. And eventually they will learn that without getting paid they no longer really have a reason for doing those things. This is a tragic consequence of trading value for worth. Artists getting paid are in EXACTLY this position.

So pity the artist. I write this as my own artist’s statement, but it is meant to frame the difficulty that almost all artists are challenged by. If you read this and understand the dilemma you will have insight into nearly every artist’s practice. Consider it a possible Universal Artist’s Statement. Then look closely at what artists are expressing. If they are communicating well, chances are they are trying to. Not always, of course. But when we don’t get what an artist is saying its not always a failure to communicate but sometimes rather a different and unfamiliar agenda. And that too can be respected. That too may be important to understand. What is that artist’s joy?


Posted in Art, Ceramics, Creative industry, metacognition, Pottery | 12 Comments

Recovering the Mojo

You have perhaps heard me moan about the pitfalls of ‘signature style’ over the years, but it perhaps takes an extraordinary circumstance and not a little courage to be willing to change. We can get too comfortable with our personas in the studio, and if we are not careful complacence eventually gets boring enough that we are condemned to a half-life as artists: We go through the motions but the passion is gone. We are animated husks churning out product. We are less curious than satisfied. And that can be dangerous.

Lately I am a bit lost myself. At some unknown point in my process selling my pots seems to have replaced an interest in making them. I mean, I hate selling, but I suddenly found I was only making in order that I would sell things. My making had become subservient to what I could flog in the marketplace. Yikes!!! Didn’t I know better? But the truth is I never saw the transition. Some malevolent magician waved his hands and while I was distracted, that brief moment I took my eye off what I was doing, the switch was made and I never saw or even noticed the substitution.

That coupled with the fatigues of dealing with an election gone wrong has seen me lose touch with beauty. I know what makes one pot better than the next, but I don’t exactly care. I can make the mental calculations for assessing quality, but I don’t feel why this matters. I don’t understand it. I am no longer thrilled by beauty. The wonder has been sucked from the world. I am no longer amazed. I look at my studio from the outside and I can no longer make sense of the person who spent the last decades enfolded in its embrace. This is the tragedy of my life at the moment…..

But I’m not giving up! I spent a day last week kibitzing around the firing of Ron Meyers’ woodkiln, and got to hang our with my wise potter friends Kyle Jones, Tony Clennell, Steve Driver, Josh Copus, Hannah May, Emma Smith, and Rick Agel. And this weekend I’m attending a workshop with Linda Christianson, who taught me for a semester back in the day. I’m hoping that with all this pottery stimulation I can recapture at least some of what has been lost.

Linda Christianson has always been one of my favorite potters and I love what she has to say. In my mind there is no more generous or wise a potter than she.

I don’t yet have a plan of action for what’s next. I don’t yet have a reason. Knowing is insufficient for understanding. Understanding balks at a lack of desire. I must first rediscover my curiosity. That is the stumbling block I fail to clear. I have wasted too much time in the studio without having a good reason. I need my mojo back.

Wish me luck!


Posted in Art, Beauty, Creativity, Ephemera, Imagination, metacognition, Pottery | 12 Comments