Someone asked me this evening what self care looks like to me.  I said it was taking time to do my art.  This is a strange season.  I have lots of time, and it’s really too cold to enjoy the outdoors much, so I make pottery, and paint.  This winter, my art process is even more insulated than usual.  New strains of COVID-19 are out there.  I’m more self contained than I was last year, because I have my own kiln.  It’s the perfect time to practice throwing pots, and try new glaze techniques.  Still, I feel isolated, and I crave conversations about art.  I became a full member of the local artists league, hoping it would give me the chance to connect with other artists, over video chats.  That hasn’t quite happened yet.  So I watch videos of painters and potters, and try to learn as much as I can.  People seem nervous about 2022.  I see it as an opportunity to develop new skills and find new ways to present my artistic voice.

Tonight I started glazing a new bunch of jars and bottles. I can’t say that any one part of the pottery process is more fun than another. It just takes a long time to get to the glazing, and then that final firing when the truth is revealed. The big payoff or heartbreak comes when the kiln cools and I see who they turned out to be. I learn something new with each round. I’m doing something similar to last time, but maybe more simplified. And this time I don’t have all those expectations about exactly what they will look like. I try to predict what the glaze will do, of course. I have to have a reason for applying it the way I do. But then I must leave it in the hands of fate.  

I wish I could forget what I did and why, so the results will just be what they are.  I also want to remember exactly what I did, so I can replicate those wonderful surprises that appear around or in spite of what I have contrived. 

Please don’t ever tell a kid they were lucky to be adopted. No kid is lucky to lose their parents. No kid is lucky to wonder what was wrong with them, or what they didn’t do to keep their family together.

People choose to adopt.  Kids would never choose it. 

We all have trauma in our lives. Kids in foster care or adoptive familes have all that normal, difficult stuff plus a whole lot more. 

I’m the lucky one who got to have them in my life. They weren’t lucky to need me in theirs. 

Please don’t tell a foster or adoptive parent that they are a saint. I know people mean well.  We’re just people who wanted to be parents. Maybe we couldn’t do it the way a lot of other parents did.

Adoption can be a very good thing. It can meet needs for kids and for adults. It’s not easy. It’s not perfect. They’re not lucky. We’re not heroes. 

There is a lengthy cycle to making pottery. You throw the pot, then let it dry for a few days. When it is bone dry, you bisque fire it, and wait for the kiln to cool. You glaze the pots, and when they are dry, you load them back into the kiln. After glaze firing, you wait for them to cool again.

How they look in the end is a result of your actions, but you can never be sure how they will come out.

The cycle is much shorter in acrylic painting. You prep your canvas and apply the paint. It dries pretty quickly, and you can go back in and change things. 

I wanted my recent pots to look like acrylic paintings, but done in stoneware glaze. As a result, I was unhappy when I saw the finished pieces. It wasn’t that they looked particularly bad, it’s just that they looked different than I thought they would. 

So I learned a lot from that attempt.  I will bring this experience to the next batch of pots.

When I try too hard, I rarely succeed. I want to throw larger pots. I began having some success when I told myself I’m just making a planter for my new sunroom. That took the pressure off.