from the pottery studio in my garage

colorful clouds, taken on 35mm film (from 2021)

The garage door is propped open a little bit to help counter any fumes coming from the kiln that is on and slowly getting hotter and hotter. Today I’m firing some sample glazes with the hope of using them on some of my newly made and designed (or to-be designed) pottery pieces. And yesterday looked a lot like today.

Up until the end of September, I hadn’t made or fired or glazed anything since July 2021, and while it is pointless to be critical of the time away since it already happened and there’s nothing else to be done about it other than to keep doing what I’m doing now, I have found the process of relating to again to be difficult.

At the end of September of this year, I knew these three things to be true: (one) I had already said I would the winter art tour with my mom in December and so there we have it, I was going to have to make something at some point, (two) despite my resistance, I really did want to do the art tour with my mom, which I suspect is why I said yes in the first place (& three) all of this can be true and I can still feel certain way and not have to explain or understand why I feel a certain way about something because coming back to anything after time away is always going to be challenging and difficult but maybe that’s what I need? Something that is frustrating and exciting and satisfying—something that is mine and mine alone to make and mold and turn into.

And now that I’m almost a month into my pottery re-discovery, I can heartedly say that for me, the hardest part was in the starting, because after I reluctantly showed up every day, or every other day, or once a week, the act of simply relating to the clay and tools in front of me, became so much a part of my routine that eventually, I didn’t begrudgingly make my way out to the garage to throw some clay around, I did it without thinking. Like: oh, now I’ll do this.

There were definitely a few things that helped immensely in continuing to tend to (and rekindle) my relationship with pottery: creating a studio space that I actually want to spend time in. For me, this looked like carving out a corner of the garage that was for the purpose of making things—finding a funky little red desk on facebook marketplace, somewhere to display my glazes, plenty of space for my pieces to dry, artwork, stacks of books, supplies organized and readily available, boxes of clay, a cozy lamp to work by (the overhead lights do little to inspire me), a cute tile to set my tea on, etc.,

Having somewhere that is purposeful and beautiful (as beautiful as the garage will allow) to retreat to and get lost in the making-of things, is an essential part of this particular creative process.

Also, documenting the process by taking photos, writing through the steps I’m taking, ideas I’m having, frustrations that come up, makes it feel more accessible and playful and like I won’t end up taking myself too seriously (re: trying to monetize it when I know that doesn’t feel good) or setting expectations so high that I lose sight of why I choose to be here (and how I want this creative relationship to feel long-term).

I’ve been sharing much of the process with my mom, asking her a thousand little questions since she has pretty much taught me everything I know (and has been at this for longer than I’ve been alive).

I’ve also been documenting the entire process (starting at the end of September, through to the beginning of December) within a home for creating, and I cannot believe just how supportive and wonderful and fun it has been to share somewhere that is without expectation (rather: focused entirely on the process-of).

To conclude (for now): I’m reshaping it into something that complements who I am now rather than asking me to be someone I had told myself I should be. It’s exhilarating (!!!) and I certainly did not expect to go to bed and wake up thinking about all the possibilities this little corner of our garage holds when my lamp is on and my tea is poured and my favorite audio-book is playing.

Safe to say that it feel good (really good, unbelievably good) to be relating to this creative experiment again. To just be here. To try and try probably mess up but know it’s ok because I can just try again.

Talk soon,
Chloe

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