Chip. Chip. Chip: A Wrap Up of 2022

Process. In art, as in life, this is where I find the most welcome and sense of okay-ness. For me, there is surprising spaciousness in the erratic up and down, stop and flow of two steps forward, one step back, pause, shuffle, repeat that is process.

Those step back and pause parts can feel odd, even suspect—especially since cultural messaging reminds us often and in overt & subtle ways that product/production are what count. How we count. How we account for the space we fill and the time we have.

Product and productivity are shorthand for Proof of worth.

Thus my practice of (re)turning to process (#processjunkie). Chip. Chip. Chip. This is my personal pep-talk, my mini-mantra when facing a new, perhaps extra large project because I know full well that said project is my friend process by another name.

Process invites us to engage, step away and breathe, then engage again as we feel moved. Action and reflection. Action and reflection. Act first. Reflect second. Make a mark, gather materials, sketch a plan: start. Begin with moving your body through space. Pay attention.

As compassionate yogis like to admonish: Listen to your body.

A Paradox

Here's the rub: our culture praises productivity. It also lionizes logic and reveres reason. No wonder many of us feel anxious and stressed! How can one be in constant production mode (to prove our worth) AND form logical reasons for why it matters or what it’s really for?!

Logic and reason are lovely. However, they skip listening to your body, learning by doing, kinesthetic knowing. This embodied wisdom is inherent to analog making of every stripe.

Here’s one thing I’ve learned by doing this year. Creating with clay delights me! A look at my Instagram of late will confirm this joy. This is the second time I’ve enrolled in the same ceramics class. Not for credit, but for studio space, kiln usage, and the inspiration of a teacher and other students.

However, the class is not offered again this academic year. It’s possible that studio access will be granted to students who want to keep playing with clay. But I might not be given such freedom. I am welcome in many places and by many people. At the same time I can neither confirm nor deny that someone could (and would) block my current studio access. Because he/she/they can. 

Problem Solving

Facing these facts I shifted into problem-solving mode in November. The contortions I was willing to consider were numerous and varied: 1) work in cramped space at the local senior center, 2) enroll in class at the local junior college for three times the rate I now pay, 3) let this love go and work with papier-mâché or fabric. >Sigh<

I sat with my sense of frustration, grief and powerlessness. Right next to these I felt the physical and emotional longing to work with clay.

How uncomfortable to keep company with all the feelings. But it served me well. It confirmed my desire to work with clay.But what to do?

This month, over a holiday table with good friends and apple cake and licorice tea, it happened. Why not be bold and commit to myself and my inner knowing? I stepped into the scary power of trusting my self & my feelings.

I can say yes to clay and make a way for myself. I can create freedom by turning our garage into a ceramic studio!

From powerlessness to joyfully liberated. Woo Hoo! Giddy Euphoria. So much YES!

And Then

Then a pause and then a settling into Chip. Chip. Chip. Embrace studio-creating as process.

The hunt for a kiln is in full swing. Hello Offer Up and Craig's List. (If you know of an electric Skutt Km 1227 kiln for sale in Southern California, I’m here for it.) Ken and I began moving the camping, beach, and biking gear currently in our garage and imagining the space in fresh ways for this new vision. 

Move and pay attention. Act and reflect. Trust the process.

I’ll keep you posted. For now a pause to reflect: on the ending year, what I've learned by doing, the kindness met, the surprise goodness received, and all the love and mercy that has flowed my way.

Until next year I wish you well. May you make time to reflect on what you’ve learned by doing this year, and find the courage to trust your Self and the process in whatever lies ahead.