Back to the Source

I’ve been on inspiration overload for a few weeks (or maybe a lifetime!). First I was at the Cabin Fever Clay Festival in Laurel, Maryland, then at the National Polymer Clay Guild Synergy Conference in Baltimore, then at the American Craft Council Show at the Baltimore Convention Center, then back at my own dear studio and home where many unfinished projects and sketched ideas awaited my return. Yikes. Made me want to bury my head under a pillow to dream of finding my own voice (which I did, literally, waking up my husband Dan as I struggled in my sleep to give sound to my voice! Must have worked.  He answered!)

I know that the thing that I have to do is to just MAKE A CHOICE AND DO IT. I can’t eat all the candy in the box or see all the movies that attract my attention or keep all of the ideas that float through my head. Life is about choice, and finding a balance line along which we can walk with a sense of equilibrium. So, I’m walking. Today I have to finish the 4th in our series of Puzzle-Face Push Molds, and then I will put my body into my studio chair and create. Art isn’t about dreaming the work, but about making it visible.

I admire those people like Val Daniels and Leslie Blackford who seem to work directly from their heart and souls to their fingertips, without spending endless time analyzing and revisiting and, like my high school Spanish teacher said, “chewing my cabbage twice”. I sat with Leslie for an afternoon at the Synergy Conference, while we both worked at our Vendor Tables. I think I’ll make a little doll in the image of Leslie and set her beside me on my worktable to act as my encourager. There, that’s a decision made!

And now just a word about inspiration. I’ve been seeing seeds and pods everywhere, not only in the “flesh” on the trees in Jordan, where my studio is, but in artwork ranging from doll making to ceramics to polymer clay to paintings and prints, as well as an interesting,though not verified posting, about the origination of the shape of the cocoa cola bottle. Fascinating: http://www.snopes.com/cokelore/bottle.asp

This photo represents work from one of my favorite booths at the Baltimore ACC show. The colors were mesmerizing and so calming. I wanted to LIVE in that booth! The artist is Andy Rogers, who also does photography for other artists. Check him out! http://www.andyrogersceramics.com

Other wonderful pod-related work is that of polymer clay artists Jeff Dever and Kathleen Dustin.

Now back to walking that line ….

Maureen

The Face of God

When I was a little girl, I saw God as a big white man with a flowing beard, like Moses. But, as I got older, that image didn’t work for me anymore. For awhile I tried to just not think about it, as the subject made me uncomfortable. But part of me yearned for an image that reflected God to me. Since my religious heritage is Christian, I could attach the tradtional image of Jesus as that of the visible face of God. But, to me, the physical face of Jesus seemed to be only a partial view of God, only one of God’s faces.

I’ve always delighted in seeing faces in the things around me, like in clouds and in the grain of wood and hiding in the crevices of stones. I realize that’s probably because I, as a human being, am trying to see my own species reflected in everything I see. But it surely is fun. On the other hand, if God is an unanswerable question, an infinite mystery, the source of all being, then it must also be true that the creative force, the essence, or face, of God, can show up in unexpected places and be incorporated into everything that is. Perhaps, if we look closely, with the spiritual eyes of knowing, we’ll “see” God in everything around us, including me, and you.

With that premise, I’ve been collecting pictures of the face of God. Sounds strange, doesn’t it? But these pictures illicit in me a reverence and awe that reflects my view of the majesty and mystery of God. This first offering is titled Graceful Vines. Or grace-full vines.

Who Am I, Anyway?

I’ve decided to let go of this struggle I’ve been having about who I am. I’ve been muddling over this question, it seems to me, ever since I was a little kid. (I was a pretty serious kid!)

I’ve always liked questions. To me, answers never seemed quite satisfying, and they were never set in stone. I was always peeking under dogmas and looking skeptically at rules and rethinking decisions. Though I was quiet in my rebellion, I always had to have a solid reason to go along with what others said was true. So, when I tried to put myself into a who-I-am box, I was troubled at the inconsistencies that kept popping to the surface.

Now, finally, I’m making a stand. On a line. I’m going to walk along a crooked line. No box for me. I think, at least for now (no rules, remember?), it works to be riding that line between whimsical and serious, earthy and in the clouds, teacher and student, childlike and wise. To illustrate this point to myself (for isn’t that why we really write, for ourselves?), I chose two photos from my file, Sweet Fairies and The Moment of Choice. As I look at these photos, they seem pretty opposite to me. The casual viewer might not know that one artist created both of them. Yet I did. Yes, they were created at very different times in my life, but both still hold personal meaning for me.

The little fairies were created around 1990, and were purchased at the Minnesota Renasissance Festival by my mother, AnaBel Peck. When she died in 2005, I inherited them, and I was particularly happy to have them back, as I had always loved them. Why? I love their spirit. I love that they are alive with joy. I love that they give a glimpse into an unseen world of imagination and play. I love that my mother loved them! And I love that they still make me laugh.

And the framed piece? I made that one in 2007. I love that it reflects my serious side. It talks to me about stretching my artistic skills and about choosing to make a direct spiritual statement through my work.

Recently I read the book Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert. I really enjoyed reading about her determination and resulting struggle to ride that line between seemingly conflicting values. Eat or pray? Love or pray? Love and pray? Pray then love? Eat then love? Love and love? Body and pleasure or spirit and godliness? Her life would have been easier if she would have chosen one harmonious, simple way of being, but it wasn’t her. On page 29 she talks about “the great Sufi poet and philosopher Rumi once advising his students to write down the three things they most wanted in life. If any item on the list clashed with any other item, he advised, then you are destined for unhappiness. Better to live a life of single-pointed focus, he taught.” Elizabeth balked at that premise, and set out to explore how she might live harmoniously amid extremes. And she did find success - or at least a riveting story to tell.

I’m not about to set out for Italy or India, nor settle into paradise amidst the aromas of intoxicating Indonesia, but I am willing to accept that I have the right, and the need, to walk along a line that threads its way between varying degrees of opposites. To help guide my way, I’ve chosen three things as what I most want in life, and by these I’ll measure what I choose to do in 2008. The three corners of my triangular guide are (1) the awareness and experience of the mysteries of spirit, (2) connections with people, and (3) immersion in the creative process. I don’t think there are any conflicts there, in principle, but there will be some hard choices. And, I think, much more clarity as I walk my path.

Meanwhile, in the garden at Maureen’s …

Do you ever wonder what’s happening in the garden when you aren’t looking?  I imagine that there are conversations happening in the trees and under the old logs.  But I’ve heard them only in whispers on the wind.

But, in winter, snow gives us a clue, as we can see the footprints of those earthbound creatures who walk on top of it.  But what of those who fly above?  Or creep beneath it’s surface?  The fresh snow on this polymer clay mushroom is, as of this moment,  touched only by the flickers of sunlight which peek through the trees. 

This mushroom will stay outside all winter as a place for imagination to linger.  And, who knows what else might happen by …

Whistling through the Cracks 

Submerged in a dark sanctuary.
Waiting.
Listening. 

A shaft of light finds a crack through which to whistle a tune.
Again.
And again. 

Then, when the melody rings as true to her as the air she breathes,
She rides it through the crack and into the world.

© 2006 Maureen Carlson