Looking back on 2022

Looking back on 2022, I’d like to share three things that were highlights for me.

It was wonderful to have Apothecary be part of the Artful Healing exhibition at the Newark Museum of Art. This is the first time I have had a piece in a major museum with a such diverse audience. It was rewarding for me to experience the wide appeal of my artwork. I especially enjoyed listening to the different museum goers’ interpretations of Apothecary.

I participated in an exhibition at the Heidi Gallery at JSDD. Local poets were asked to choose a  piece or two to create poems about for a reading. The poet, Marcia LeBeau selected my piece Crazy Cooks Spoons and wrote the poem, “Begging to be Touched”. I must say, I love this poem; it gives me a whole new way to think about my work. Here is an excerpt from the final stanza when Marcia shares her take on the thoughts of the maker.

“From her hands, a quartet

of ceramic and swirls, earth tones and outlines. How could they not

cause a stir? A set of spoons crafted not for the saliva of mastication,

but a saliva of longing, of want and desire. Designed for the artist herself,

the crazy cook, the dreamer. For you and me.”

 I spent a peaceful week at Cape May Point this past summer. It was very hot, which made for incredible sunsets. My granddaughter and I climbed into the lifeguard’s chair to enjoy.  It reminded me of growing up on Long Island, where as a teenager I spent a lot of time hanging out on the beach. My granddaughter said it was a lot fun and one of the best things she did during the summer. I was so happy to be able to share it with her.

Please share your highlights from 2023 in comments below.

I look forward to reading them.

Apothecary

Crazy Cooks Spoons

The Art of Impermanence

This is taken from a talk I gave at the Art League of Long Island.

Nothing lasts, nothing is finished and nothing is perfect

My piece 80 Winthrop Street. embodies this wabi sabi saying. It is an artwork made from a found valise containing several items, including a postcard, a pinecone, a gourd and clay vessels.

 Nothing lasts –Someday everything around us will decompose, some sooner, the pinecone and the gourd and some later the bamboo stick and the valise itself. I found that valise on the street several years ago and it became the container for my first assemblage.

 Nothing is finished – Nothing we see is complete. Things are constantly changing even if we can’t see it. I am always making changes to my pieces. I keep on adding whenever I come across something that I think would be work in an assemblage. I recently added a baggage ticket from Idlewild airport to 80 Winthrop Street. I enjoy making assemblages because I am always finding new things to add.

 Nothing is perfect- No one we know, no objects we own, no situations we find ourselves in are faultless.  I don’t strive to have perfect items in my assemblages. I don’t have a set plan when I put them together. But I do spend a lot of time arranging rearranging so that the objects are in a conversation with each other. Maybe we are the last generation to have our experiences tied to physical objects –future generations histories will be online. I still feel the need to tell my story through a few resonant objects.

 This is my story of 80 Winthrop Street.

It is the story of my grandmothers’ journeys. One grandmother was born in Poland and made a trip across the Atlantic in 1920 to live in America; probably she was carrying a valise like the one in my piece. My other grandmother was born in the United States and made the much shorter trip every weekend from her apartment on 80 Winthrop Street in Brooklyn to visit my family on Long Island. I remember her carrying a valise like the one above. If you take a look at the collage on the inside back of the valise you will see photos of both my grandmothers.

 80 Winthrop Street is also the story of my own pathway through life. There are images of my family, trips I have taken and bridges I have crossed. It also shows my life’s voyage through clay. I started working in clay when I was in college and have continued ever since. Sometimes I work on the wheel creating functional pottery; other times I make tile wall reliefs. Now I find myself making assemblages and wall sculptures that might have many elements but always include something I have made from clay.  Clay never gets old to me. It is an ancient art form that can look very modern. I decided to include a clay vessel in 80 Winthrop Street that is modeled on the kind of vessel that women in ancient times would take to the well and fill with water. I want my piece to have the feel of reaching across time.

80 Winthrop Street with recent changes at the Echoes exhibition at the Art League of Long Island. 

What I Have Learned, Some Thoughts for the Jewish New Year

After wondering all winter why I didn’t feel right, I was diagnosed in June with a neurological disorder.  Along with their genuine concern many of my friends had questions. Is it serious? How long will it last? What does it feel like? What causes neurological disease? The most meaningful question was posed by my good friend, Susan ‘What has your illness taught you’? I have been thinking about this ever since. What have I learned? Illness is a strict teacher. It grabs you and doesn’t let you go. All you can think about is not feeling well. Why did this happen to me? Did I do something to cause it?  Can I make it go away? Eventually I realized that I will probably never know the answer to these questions, so it is best if I would stop beating myself up. Instead, I would do a lot better to accept what has happened and start being kind to myself. I started focusing on things that make me feel better like yoga or working in my studio.  I acknowledged that I had to stop pushing myself and take things easy. I also started seeing other people in a new light. Since I can feel miserable but look totally fine, maybe other people are the same way. You never really know what is really going on with someone else. I reasoned, “Best to practice kindness with everyone, whenever possible”. What have I learned from being ill? It is much easier to be kind to others if you are first kind to yourself.

Political Pears

During and after the presidential election, I was very disturbed by the news. In addition to getting involved politically I needed to do something to express what I was feeling. I created artworks with clay pears that reflected my reactions to what was going on.  I often use pears in my work to represent people.

My People Were Refugees Too- A battered pear represents all refugees which I combined with images of my family from Europe juxtaposed with a photo of a Syrian refugee family.

Unity in Diversity-  I was disturbed by the talk of “America First”. Everyone in the USA is from somewhere else, unless you are a Native American. Diversity is part of what makes our country great. I used many different representations of pears to reflect that diversity.

Boat People- I was upset by images of people dying on boats. I remember my grandparents talking about coming over to the USA on a boat. I also wanted to reference African -Americans who were brought to this country against their will; where many of them died on those slaves ships.

The World in a Teabowl

People often ask 'what exactly is raku?' It is a style of pottery that originated in Japan in the 16th century. The ware was created to be used in the tea ceremony. Raku embodies the Japanese principle of wabi, which honors emptiness, natural simplicity and imperfection. The tea bowls are all hand built (as opposed to wheel thrown) and fired in a special firing.

 Raku is the family name of a pottery family in Japan that has been creating this style of ceramics for over 400 years. The word raku means enjoyment, comfort or ease. The name was bestowed on the 16th century potter, Tanaka Chojiro by the Japanese emperor, Hideyoshi because his tea bowls were so highly regarded. Every Raku generation is encouraged to find their own style. “ A parent teaches to his child that he will not teach. Every child is encouraged to develop their own style. No formulas are written down." Raku Kichizaemon is the current raku master. He describes the tea bowl interior as “a universe held in the palms.”

Adapted from Raku: Cosmos in a Teabowl by Kathleen Whitney, Ceramics Monthly, January 2016

This is the second post about raku, to learn  more about ‘American’ raku see: Raku: The Joy of Fire

Coexistence, Conflict & Faith

 Artistic Visions of Jerusalem, a class based on the themes of the exhibition, Jerusalem 1,000-1400: Every People Under Heaven, will be taught by Beth Heit & Rabbi Warmflash. We will be discussing three works of art that illuminate the concepts of faith, conflict and coexistence.

The bronze lentil pot (see above) from 11th century Israel, highlights the theme of coexistence. In the Middle Ages, pilgrims of all faiths when in the city of Hebron to visit the Cave of the Patriarchs were treated to a dish of lentils, raisins and olive oil that was prepared by the Muslim keepers of the site.

Artwork on the West Bank Barrier by the British graffiti artist Banksy is a comment on conflict.

Gateway by Beth Heit

I created Gateway, a ceramic wall relief after spending a six-month sabbatical in Jerusalem. Jerusalem is a city of many entranceways, both physical and spiritual.

Raku: The Joy of Fire

Raku means joy or pleasure in Japanese. The symbol for raku was bestowed on the family of the potter Chojiro by the emperor Hideyoshi in the late 1500’s. Raku pottery was originally created by Chojiro to be used in the tea ceremony. Raku ware embodied the concept of wabi, which became vital in the tea ceremony (see blog post, Wabi Sabi Mug Making, 8/4/15.) Raku differed from other pottery firing methods because it required only a small kiln and a quick firing. Some historians feel the first raku firings were based on the methods used to fire roof tiles.

In the 1950’s Western ceramic artists modified and changed the process until it became something uniquely American. I participated in a raku workshop with Toni Rosenbaum at the Art League of Long Island . It was a fun day! We even got to celebrate two birthdays.

Raku firing gives you the opportunity to work with combustibles ( paper, wood chips, sawdust...) so you really do experience the joy of fire.

Scroll through the images and watch the video to get a feel of the raku process.

Glazing the pots

Heating up the kiln

Almost 1700 degrees F

Combustibles

Pails create a reducing atmosphere

Pulling the hot pots from the kiln

Removing the pots from the pit

Wetting the pots to seal the glaze

Before scrubbing off the soot

Finished pot!

Happy birthday!

Another birthday celebration!

Watch this video of pulling pots from the kiln.

What Does Clay Have to Do With Fasting? Kol Nidre Meditation

I have always been drawn to the piyut or poem that is recited during Kol Nidre night on the Jewish holiday of Yom Kippur.

As Clay in the Hand of the Potter  

 As clay in the hand of the potter:

At his will, he expands or contracts it.

So are we in Your hands, Loving Creator.

Your covenant recall, and ignore our weakness.

 The author speaks to the intimate relationship between maker and material and asks our Creator to overlook our imperfections.

When I first read this piyut, I felt it meant that we seek to be totally molded by the will of God, having little say in the final product. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that is not the way of clay or of any of the other materials mentioned later in the piyut.

When you work with a material, you must keep in mind the nature of the material. Clay is well suited for some things but not for others. It is foolish to try to mold it in a way that it won’t go. So it is with us, like the raw materials in the piyut, each of us has specific qualities that make us excel at some tasks but not at others. We shouldn't be hard on ourselves about our shortcomings but rather we should pray that out of each of our lives, God gives us guidance in creating something beautiful and useful, utilizing the best of our abilities. 

May all sentient beings know happiness and the root of happiness.     

SHANA TOVA !

what we hold close / what we let go

When I started working in clay, I studied pottery and spent my time making clay objects on the wheel for everyday use. After many years as a studio potter, I decided to return to school to get my Masters in Art Education.  For the next ten years I put my studio practice on hold while I pursued my degree and teaching career.

When I returned to a regular studio practice, I did not want to go back to only making pots. The hardest part was making decisions about what to work on. I had notebooks and sketchpads filled with ideas. Now that I had the time, I found it difficult to make choices about what I was going to focus on and what I was going to put aside. It took about a year to sort itself out.  Working on assemblages and creating sculptures based on natural forms started to take precedent over my other artistic pursuits. Being unable to work on something after a long break is not uncommon. If this happens to you, just remember to stick with it. Things worth doing take time.

 The process of choosing direction led me to the concept and the inspiration for my installation, what we hold close/ what we let go

Incredible Clay

Clay is an amazing substance because you start with a soft material that ends up as a finished piece that is fixed and hard. Initially, you are able to manipulate the clay with ease, then through the firing process, what was once pliable is now permanent. I don't think there is another material quite like it.

One of the things I love about working with clay is being able to create texture simply by pressing or rolling into the moist clay. The dictionary defines texture as the feel and appearance of a surface, especially how rough or smooth it is. It can also mean distinctive character. In my sculptures, I like to juxtapose textured surfaces with smooth glazes (see Heartbeet above). When I see a textured clay artwork it reminds me that the clay was once fluid.  

The images below show just a few of the ways I like to create texture in my work.

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Bicycles,Water and Mud

I recently spent a very pleasant day bike riding amid the sculptures at the Storm King Art Center in Cornwall, NY. It is an extraordinary place that is so big you can rent bicycles to help you get around. Storm King is definitely worth a visit.

The featured artist this year is Lynda Benglis.  In the garden are her very large metal fountains and inside the gallery are Benglis’ smaller ceramic works. I enjoyed seeing the way she played the mediums of clay and metal off of each other. The metal was very claylike with its dripped organic structures and the extruded ceramics sculptures had a metal rigidity to them.

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Benglis recalls that she became interested in playing with mounds of sand, clay, water, and moss as a child visiting her grandfather in Petal, Mississippi. The surface of her ceramic pieces show the impression of her hands as she rolls, squeezes, rips, pinches and folds the extruded clay forms.

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Benglis says, “ When I do ceramics, I feel a need to kind of wrestle with the material and be integrated with the form and surface. I continue to work with the sculptural aspects of clay and pushing it around. I tend to work categorically and try to push the materials as far as it can go.”

I strongly relate to Benglis’ need to experiment with form and surface when creating my clay sculptures

Wabi-Sabi Mug Making

A few years ago, I decided to begin spending most of my studio time creating sculptures instead of functional production pottery. I relish the challenge of being creative while fashioning one of a kind objects out of clay. But every once in a while I get a hankering to produce a series of something simple on the wheel. This week I felt like making mugs. Mugs are rewarding to make because everybody enjoys drinking from a handmade cup!

I find that the shapes and glazes that I use in my organically inspired sculptures influence the forms and colors of my functional ware and vice versa.  Spending time looking at items from nature has helped me appreciate the wabi sabi principles of nothing lasts, nothing is finished, nothing is perfect. I am mindful of these concepts even when I create functional objects like mugs. When I let go of striving to create picture perfect mugs that look identical, the mugs are so much livelier and reflect the active process that I engage in to realize them.

My Garden

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This year my garden is amazing! It is very satisfying to see several years of work come together.  My garden helps me to see and appreciate the small things I wouldn’t be aware of otherwise.  Gardening is reflected in much of my artwork.

Last week in the New York Times , I read an article by Gretchen Reynolds titled Piece of Nature, Peace of Mind. http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/07/22/how-nature-changes-the-brain/  Scientists are studying whether urban dwellers’ mental health could be improved by taking a walk in a park or natural green area. The answer is ‘probably’.

I have noticed that in suburbia even though we are surrounded by nature we often don’t get a chance to experience it. We stay inside in our offices or houses. If you have some land, gardening is one of the best ways to get in touch with nature. It is also a way to share your aesthetics with the public if they happen to walk or drive by.

I have taken many photos of my garden this spring and summer. Let the images speak for themselves.

Art Encounter

While I was enjoying an exhibit of Matisse’s cutouts at the Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam, my husband excitedly approached me.

“ You must come with me,” he said.

 “Why”.

 “ I can’t explain, just come right now”

I followed him through a few galleries in the museum into a dark room.  I could not see a thing but I heard humming and singing. I was a little frightened to enter the room because it was pitch black. I made my way slowly along the walls.  Clapping and whistling were added to the humming and singing. Now someone was speaking, talking about being a child and breaking a window. Over time my eyes got used to the light and I became aware of fuzzy human shapes that were moving and dancing around the room. I wondered if they were holograms with recorded voices until one of them brushed against me. I saw my husband and he looked like one of the ‘holograms’. He had become part of the piece. I found being part of the piece electrifying and exhilarating.

I realized that there were about 15 trained dancers/ singers in the room along with us and the other museum visitors.

I found out later that I was experiencing one of Tino Sehgal’s ‘constructed situations’. Sehgal uses human voice, language, movement, and interaction to create pieces that are regularly staged in museums and galleries.  His artworks consist of trained individuals continuously employing voice and movement to create particular conditions. The artwork is the ‘constructed situation’ that arises during the interaction of the audience and the interpreters. Tino Sehgal does not allow images to be made of his work so there are no physical records of what he does. He feels the world is already filled with too much stuff.

This piece of Sehgal’s is called “Variations” and it brought up many thoughts. Among them- if this were in New York, you would never be able to just stumble upon it. Being part of the event would involve long lines. Just happening upon it increased our initial confusion but ultimate enjoyment of the piece. Since we didn’t know what was going on we were forced to trust and to be swept up in the event in an unguarded way. Is this visual art or performance since there are no actual objects connected to the event? Finally how does Sehgal’s work relate to my artwork as a sculptor and clay artist? Sehgal’s work demands that you be entirely in the moment. With my sculptures I am requesting that you take the time to actually observe. In Sehgal’s work you don’t have a choice but to be totally immersed. To appreciate my artwork you must make the decision to give it your attention and let the textures, forms and colors speak to you.