Saturday, October 24, 2015


Save these dates...two pottery events coming up!

 Cobscook Pottery Annual Holiday Sale

 November 6-8, 2015
At my shop/studio
Lubec, Maine
Fri. 3-7, Sat. and Sun. 10-4

Pottery, jewelry, encaustic painting, drawing
Refreshments, raffle, and holiday cheer!

Cobscook Pottery at the 
United Maine Craftsmen Show
 November 14th and 15th
At the Augusta Civic Center, Augusta, Maine
Sat. 9-4, Sun. 10-3

 Bouli, hanging with the art in studio main.

An early autumn bonfire.

 Mowry Beach has the biggest heart I've ever found.

 Hamilton Cove 

 Lubec pier on a foggy afternoon, high tide.

 A successful show this summer at Harlow Gallery in Hallowell, Maine

I enjoyed my first season as a resident artist at Crow town Gallery. 
I look forward to next summer with a line-up that includes three exhibits, intriguing artists, 
and live music.

 Lots of carving in prep for holiday sales.

 I'm about as messy as they come when it comes to potters!

 West Quoddy State Park

 Johnsons Bay, Lubec, Maine

 harvested some Chicken of the Woods Mushroom. Yummy!!!

 Sliced and ready to be dehydrated, wild Chicken of the Woods mushroom.

It  seems my weekly blog posts are a thing of the past but I felt the pull to begin writing again these past few days. Facebook covers the day-to-day happenings (of which there are plenty!) and so lots has piled-up from the past three months of eblogger silence.  There is too much to recap fully here so I will just leave it at it was a summer-into-autumn full of art, music, family, friends, and continuation of self-growth.

Mostly what I am reflecting on is all the change that has occurred in the past couple years. I think we all have times in our lives when things ramp up and lessons come at a speedier clip than normal. If I were to look back at blog posts from three or four years ago, I think that I would mostly find weekly work accomplishments listed in paragraph form. I could still do that, as life doesn't ever seem to really slow down. What has slowed, though, is my presence within the whirlwind of everything around me.

With the MFA behind me and a shifting of gears into the rhythm of pottery and art, I find that the freedom of flexibility in my schedule allows for deep reflection on a fairly regular basis. By nature, my work hours are dictated by the needs of the clay. Some days I am at it from wake until sleep and other days I may find myself only in the studio four or five hours (or not at all....rare but it happens!). In an effort to work on self-love, self-care has become one of the main focuses in my life. When I was teaching full-time, building the pottery business, and going to school, lots of things for my own well being were put on the back burner. I now fully appreciate the "little" things like being able to break in the middle of the day for a walk, exploration along the beach or in the woods, a solid meal, baths, meditation, sleep, time with friends, or an evening out.

I am a domestic nomad. I move from space to space at home determined by which spot feels most beneficial to creative expression. When carving, I may find myself outdoors (weather permitting) where I listen to birds and wind in the trees, or if cold or rainy, I may be plunked down in my favorite chair fireside. While my hands are preoccupied, my mind is free. I use that time to either gain new knowledge through youtube videos (there is lots of interesting stuff out there!!!) or I find myself (most often) sitting and working in "silence". Two years ago, this was something i would seldom do, as silence was uncomfortable. I filled every moment with sound.
Now it is something that I have come to crave. True silence I have not yet experienced, but the most basic level being removal of voice and the drone of mechanical sound, I partake in as often as I am able. Noise is ever present and I do not know that it can ever be fully escaped. The closest I can come is a winter day when power kicks out. In winter, there is a stillness, even if the howl of  wind passes over snowy white mounds. Electricity has a constant hum that we seldom notice until its presence ceases.

Intrigued I am, still, that even in those conditions that silence is not found. While meditating in a windowless, enclosed dark space a few nights ago, I could still hear my own heartbeat and breathing, along with the currents of energy passing through electrical cords to items I thought silent....alarm clock and heater.  It's interesting how loud a heartbeat sounds when all other devices are "off" and darkness surrounds.

So for now, "silence" means an inward focus on self and the experience of the relative quiet of nature. More and more I long for that space, fortunate to find on my walks in the woods or at the beach or at home during hibernations. As I find myself still at times racing against the clock with  my seasonal work schedule, I fantasize those short, dark days of winter when the most quiet silence descends for solitude and deep introspection.

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