Feb 09 2008
Clay Class
The Lord God formed man out of the clay of the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of Life, and so man became a living being.
- Genesis 2:7
As a kid, I used to imagine Adam being made of blue Play-Doh. (Because blue is a masculine color.) I knew very little about clay. Once in a while I’d run into a patch of it while walking in a lake – a slippery mass of the blue-tinged white clay of Michigan. But it wasn’t until high school that I saw clay being used – and rather misshapen objects at that!
I’ve been taking clay class nearly a year. I joined because I had such a terrible experience with clay in high school, and I wanted a “do-over”. It’s been wonderful! I’ve yet to use a wheel. Instead, I build things by slab and coil methods.
I’ve gone from making sculpture – like the angel that was Mom and Dad’s Christmas present – to more utilitarian objects. I’ve gotten a good response to my work, even when they’re just sitting on the shelves near the kiln, waiting for the first firing. My teacher, Carolyn, told me that my bowls show my “signature”. I made them by using paper patterns to cut clay shapes, then layered them into a bowl. I worked from the outside in, layer by layer.
As of Thursday, I’m making tiles for my kitchen – a more durable backsplash than the stained and peeling wallpaper. I have sketched out tiles with a fruit motif to complement my Corelle Chutney dishes. I will mimic a classic Italian style by using a white glaze and a single colour per tile to accent the fruit.
At home, I have to measure the walls above the kitchen counter. I’m excited yet nervous. I face the prospect of cleaning, stripping, and preparing the walls. If I think about it, I start to worry that the tiles themselves won’t turn out. But I try to concentrate on one thing at a time: drawing, measuring, sculpting.
Truth to tell, I never thought of myself as an artist. My best friend through grade school is a great artist. When we were kids, she would become totally absorbed in drawing and painting. By high school, she had a maturity and a style that was very much her own. Her watercolours impressed even our teacher, who was a professional watercolour artist. I was artistic but more of a dabbler.
Strangely enough, my skills are growing as I find reasons to make things. I suppose I’m not an artist as much as I’m a craftsman. Just like I can take an old piece of furniture or a discarded lamp and change it into something beautiful, I can make make something out of clay. At first I was dissatisfied because what I wanted and what I produced weren’t the same thing. Gradually, however, I figured out that clay isn’t fabric or wood. It’s clay. So I let the clay be clay, and I changed my design.
Now I find satisfaction in the work itself. When I’m pressing down and forward on the clay, working the airbubbles out of it, the action is soothing even if my “rose” of clay looks more like a deformed seashell. Pressing it into slabs by running it under a roller – that’s fun. Carving into the clay and building up forms – those are like meditation because any extraneous thoughts have no room in my mind. All I can think about is what I conceive and what I’m doing at the moment.
I have to admit, I envy you the craftsmanship. Artistic talent in my family is not just rare, it’s nigh-onto unheard-of. One of my maternal aunts had a bit of a flair for art; and some great-relatives-by-marriage were very talented artists; but mostly we just draw stick figures and shrug.
I remember the only piece of artwork I ever did that I was proud of: a drawing of a cardinal on a pine tree, back in sixth grade. It’s long gone, but the memory lingers: you could actually tell what it was!!!
Don’t give up, Kasia!
I think that everyone has an artistic side, but it depends on the environment. My mom’s side love writing and poetry, but the painters tend to be dabblers who take it up when they have free time and later lose interest. My aunt and one of my cousins are really a lot more artistic than I am; they have the artist’s eye, you know? (If I can, I’ll get some of my cousin Jill’s photos on here – then you’ll see what I mean.) Even my mom has a great eye for color AND she decorates cakes – which definitely counts!
My dad’s side of the family has a lot of artistic talent. Personally, I think my grandparents had a home that encouraged looking for and appreciating beauty. My aunt Delphine is a triple threat: she plays piano beautifully, sings (her choir sang before Pope John Paul II!), and has an artist’s eye for flower-arranging and gift-wrapping. My grandpa took up stained-glass design when he was in his 70s, after he retired from mining!
So, when you’re married and before the children arrive, you could try your hand at it. Or be a late-bloomer when the children are grown. (All 12 of them… hee hee!)