My Most Personal Piece: Part 2

Serendipity

I spent several days afterwards attempting to comprehend what happened. I knew something very important had taken place, but I didn’t know how to place it. I felt compelled to craft something quickly. I started to build geometric pieces. I made 3 in rapid succession, something I wouldn’t typically do. I like to take time and let the shapes exhale as they are being built. I also noticed this increased productivity happening in my artist residency at UNM.

August was approaching. Although I had an array of pieces created, they didn’t feel appropriate. I mixed a new batch of clay by hand for the Indian Market. I always relished this particular step. It takes me back to being a child playing with mud and my pets watching. Pure, unprocessed clay when hydrated is very slippery, almost greasy. This also is the point where a temper needs to be added to the clay, otherwise it will crack and contract when drying. When a temper, like white volcanic ash, is added, that one moment when everything sticks together is pure magic. It’s almost like a new planet is formed and the rest of the clay clings to it like gravity. As I continued to throw the batch together I thought of what to make. I became impatient as no ideas were materializing. I stopped, put my hands in the wet clay, and waited.

The answer was there right in front of me, and I began coiling soon after. I made a large bowl, and I stopped just before it was entering water jar territory. I realized that I had a decent sized dough bowl. This shape was close to the bowls great-grandma used to make. I smoothed out the edges and left her to dry; she was perfect. When ready, I painted designs of feathers, leaves, and small rain clouds with native spinach. I named this piece Plume. 

I started coiling another one, and this time I kept seeing a stair-stepping pattern. The base was more visually complex, so I built on that and let the shape develop. This one was much smaller than Plume, but far more unorthodox in shape. As the hours passed, it was nearing completion, but I had not yet addressed the pattern lingering in my head. I have a manual pottery wheel that I often place a work on as I am sculpting it. I slowly rotated the wheel by hand as I looked for clues, and I began cutting squares of clay out of the top of the shape. I then understood that I was cutting the stepping pattern into the top lip. This form is common amongst Pueblo buildings and designs, and holds significance culturally. I smoothed out the roughness in the clay as well and set him to dry.

I can’t quite explain it, but I already knew what designs to paint. This happens sometimes. I won’t pre-sketch it out like I usually do. I’ll immediately start freehanding the elements directly with the bee weed paint. The design is not entirely clear, but it’s almost like something else is directing my brush strokes. With Plume it was quickly apparent that the designs would be classical with traditional repeating symmetry; an homage to all the great-grandmothers and their creativity. Without them I am not here typing this. The stepped piece would be traditional as well, but due to its different sides the layout would be quite different. I couldn’t place many repeating elements, so I painted as many different traditional designs as I could fit. Once it was fired it looked so much more like a particular pueblo architectural element than a clay vessel. Hence, I gave him the name Lion, short for Mountain Lion.

To be continued…