I am for art that is more than just art.
The type of art that begins as a lump of nothing, sitting in a bag of clay waiting to be sculpted, shaped, knocked down and built back up.
That gets stuck underneath my fingernails, and feels cold at first, gradually absorbing the heat from my palms.
One that centers my concentration, like how I center the clay on the turntable, the continuous buzzing drowning the noises as I watch the clay spin around.
Something that makes me feel more than joy.
Something that makes me cry, laugh, scream, makes me frustrated, makes me angry, and gets me excited.
I want art that makes me feel warm inside.
That takes my mind and body on an exploration. Igniting new discoveries as my hands and fingers work in union, creating a new life born from the warmth of my hands, like a baby born from the warmth of its mother’s womb.
My art is my pottery.
Where the clay transforms into art beneath my fingertips.
I want my pottery to take me on a journey.
That tests me under the fiery kiln.
That takes my soul on a high but also on a low.
One that is just as fragile and sensitive as me after a breakup, and one that I hold
my breath when I pick it up, afraid that I will drop it and all the pieces will explode under
my feet, like the explosion of stress and anxiety when I crack under pressure.
One that transforms spaces, brings people together or lights up eyes.
I want people to understand that pottery is more than just art but it's the warmth I
feel when working with clay that fuels my passion to continue every day.
Pottery is my life, it molds and carves me, it’s who I am.
Pottery isn't just a lifeless object. It is alive. Each turn of the wheel a dance of a new creation.
It’s a way to see the emotional journey the artist went through after the clay has dried from their hands as they carefully pick their piece, placing it in the kiln. Its fate rests in the hands of the firing process.
The warm flames cook it until it becomes dry. Every crack, bump and line left on the clay
like a scar left on a leg or a broken heart left to tell a story.
As I try to patch a small crack on the left side, a reminder of how I try to patch my broken friendship.
I want them to know that pottery is more than making bowls and mugs and
recreating the scene from Ghost.
I want them to feel that pottery isn’t always romantic, but calming, and sincere and beautiful, and intricate.
Pottery isn’t just mud and water mixed together, like
them mixing words in my mouth.
It has been crafted from the warmth of my heart.
I want to speak through my art, through the colours and textures that I choose.
It can be dark like the secrets you hide from everyone, like the abandoned vase on the
top shelf of the pottery studio
or bright like the moment I laid my eyes on you, my heart racing like a spinning turntable,
just like it did when I took my first pot out of the kiln.
Pigments of vermillion, cerulean and auburn boil as they infuse into the clay away from the intense passion of the blue flames.
Pottery isn't always an enjoyable and smooth process, it can be frustrating, challenging and overwhelming. Sometimes I feel like giving up because a piece that I’ve made over and over again isn't turning out the way I want it to.
The constant pressure of trying to make a perfect piece creates a whirlpool drowning my mind, like I drown the dried clay in water bringing it back to life.
Pottery is my life.
It started as a ball of nothing, a bag of clay wrapped in its air-tight container
desperately drawing in all the moisture.
Pottery is more than just a sticky ball of mess but it's a solid filled with warmth,
Each pottery piece tells its own unique story.
Like me.
I’m unique.
I am my own unique ball of clay.
I am my own unique ball of clay sucking in all the moisture around me keeping myself alive. I have my own limitations and advantages, bumps and lines.
I have colours and patterns and different glazes that make me who I am just like a ball of
clay.
