MY Drug of Choice

Its human nature to self medicate. For some its weed or booze or Cadbury. For me, its polyclay caning.

As you know, I'm 2 days away from my last big art fair. Now is not the time to start a new complex cane. Not only is it way to late to start any new pieces; but there are loads of little details I should be attending to. Gotta check the hundred plus pieces for flaws, Add clasps and extension chains to a couple dozen necklaces, put a last coat of resin on this, touch up the back of that, but Nooooo! I'm making cane.

Art fairs are a lot of work. So why am i goofing off?

Because caning is my drug. Everything around me blurs when I'm making Skinner blends and slicing through smooth sheets of clay.

The world around me fades to a hum and my temporal lobe sighs with bliss.  I'm lost on my own personal island of color and texture.

I call my caning class "The Magic of Polyclay".  For me, working with clay lives up to the name.

Hypocrites Anonymous

Not all personal revelations are painless. Maybe none of them are. To wit:

I was out distributing flyers for the art fair. In store after store I got the same response:"What art fair?"

I found myself getting increasingly disgusted. By the seventh "HUH" I gave up and headed for home. I spent the first few miles muttering curses to all the ignorant, clueless people who have no idea what's happening in their own community. Mumble mumble $&@*!

Then it hit me like a bat.

When was the last time I picked up my local paper?  Do I ever read the bulletin board at my library even though I'm there constantly? How about those emails I delete without even reading them just because they don't directly pertain to me.

Woops. The fact is I wouldn't know if freakin' dinosaurs moved in a block away. I never go there.

So tomorrow I will try again; and the little slice of society I encounter will meet a kinder, gentler Pandora.

The Marriage Bowl

 

This is a commissioned piece made for a 35th wedding anniversary.

Something about that concept just warms the cockles of old Pandora's black little heart.

When someone asks me to make a gift for someone they love, I feel joyful; but when that person gives said gift  to their loved one and the loved one is thrilled, I'm elated.

And, my friends, joy, thrills and elation are nothing to take for granted.

I'm elated because we live in a disposable world, where things are used and forgotten or thrown away. Do you remember five presents you received last Christmas? Not many of us do.

The couple who received this bowl have discovered value in marriage, value in commitment, value in each other. They know permanence. A sense of things that last.

This is just a bowl (polyclay over glass); but it was a gift given in love and it marks the day two people made a promise they have kept.

And promises are not disposable.

The Good, The Bad and the ArtFair

   Howdy Partners. I've got to say I have mixed feelings about my date with destiny out at the OK Corral next week. No, its not a duel to the death - its an ArtFair.

Whyyyyy, I ask, are these events so uncomfortable? I'm not shy. I love to meet new people. I've worked hard and made nice things to sell. My table looks pretty. Well, here's why: Because you never know if anyone will show up, if anyone will stop at your booth,  if anything will sell, if if if!
 
So I guess its the "ifs"..

Yeah yeah yeah I know selling and making money is not the reason any of us make our art. Its just that art does cost lots of money and lots of time; and after all that effort and expense you may or may not reach even one art lover who will toss you that wonderful bone. The bone that says'  "Good Job!".

So I venture forth to my last ArtFair. I'll shine up my best pieces (the ones that didn't sell that time when all those "art lovers" walked right past my tent with their fried Twinkies and Walking Tacos.)  I'll trudge ever onward and upward,  powered by the hope that the show gods will smile upon me and I'll sell out as I actually have done several times when I least expected it.

Maybe this will be my best ArtFair EVER...if...

Hamlet, SHMAM-let: The Clay is the Thing

A friend recently invited me to join her theater group. They're doing Shakespeare in the park. 

Now I've got to admit I was surprised, not only because she invited me at all, but because she did so knowing full well that I'm a notorious polyclay hermit.

Still, she was so sweet and persuasive I was tempted to say yes ; but I declined for four very valid reasons:

1) I can't act. 2) I can't act.
3) I can't act and 4) OK! I wanna stay home and play with clay.

I'm not a clay hermit! I'M NOT I'M NOT I'M NOT!

Perhaps the lady doth protest too much.

Beautiful Days BITE!

On days like today, here in the Hoosier Kingdom, I find myself wishing for rain.

When you're a polyclay freak like me, perfect weather equals GUILT. Why am I not frolicking in the meadow or swimming in the lake? What kind of person stays holed up in her studio when the Gods of barometric pressure have so generously smiled upon her?

Um...that kind of person would be me.

First of all, I don't "frolic", at least not when I can avoid it. Second, lakes contain snakes. 'Nuff said. Plus you can't frolic and swim while caning polyclay.

Ok, you got me. Its all about the clay AGAIN.

But honestly I have tried walking while conditioning clay. I tripped immediately and dropped it onto the dusty road. There's $2.79 down the drain. And speaking of dusty roads there are all manner of insects and animals and scary plants lurking in the out of doors.

Maybe I'll stay in and clay. Just until Winter.

Clay or Other Stuff? No Contest.

Last night I went shopping for groceries. I had a sixty dollar budget which buys about a bag and a half of stuff. My list included laundry detergent, shampoo, dish soap, hand soap, Advil and enough food to make dinner for a week.

My reward for the shopping was a trip to Michael's for clay.

Now, I measure all purchases by this simple formula:

 Clay divided by Everything Else = GET THE CLAY

I obviously did not have enough money for "Everything Else" anyway; so here's what I did:

I bought laundry detergent and filled my dish soap dispenser with it. I bought shampoo and filled by hand soap dispenser with it. I got generic Advil. I pretended to "forget" the food completely.

Then I went to Michael's and spent the rest on clay.

Its all good, though. I think I have a can of tuna at home. But I'm out of mayo.