I seem to have had the best of all problems recently – I do not have very much to put on the shelves at Klay and almost nothing at all for the Open Studios which starts on 10th November because I have sold so much work over the past few weeks. This is a wonderful feeling in some ways but it does leave me with a problem!
I should be in the studio every day at the moment frantically making so that I can put something on the shelves. Somehow that seems to miss the point of what I am trying to do though. I want, more than anything, to enjoy my making. I want to have time to experiment, to hone my skills and to learn new things. So it really does not suit me to be having to work hard. I am sure that it would suit my bank balance, mind you!
Actually it is worse than that because if I feel that I should be making it puts me off and I don’t want to do it at all. So here I sit finding all kinds of excuses for not getting anything done and just letting the clock tick quietly on.
That said, I have been getting a bit of experimenting done and here is lots of stuff wrapped in plastic which is half made and I do have a bisque firing on at the moment which will hopefully yield a few good pieces but finished work, ready to sell off the shelf is going to be in short supply in November!
So I have decided that I am going to do something completely different this autumn. I have been making a number of pieces for Tregony recently and I know that they have sold at least one so this time I am going to make no bones about my activities over the four days that the studio doors are open. I shall have my hands in the clay and, in tune with Poldark Series 2, I will be continuing to create more of my Cornish Mining pieces. I am looking forward to showing people how I work and I can always give my hands a quick rub if anyone wants to take a closer look at the work that I do have ready to sell or to make notes for anyone who is after that very personal piece which reminds them of a time or place which is special to them.
I spent a very happy day at Klaylondon this week enjoying the space and chatting to the lovely people who dropped in to admire the work in the gallery. I think the gallery is looking amazing and it seems as if people are now beginning to talk about it and seek it out. I have it on good authority that we sold a remarkable amount yesterday, but I digress.
The point of this blog is to dwell for a moment on where one thinks one is going as an artist and whether you ever actually get there.
Whilst I was enjoying the gallery a number of people came in specifically because they had spotted one of my pieces in the window and wanted a closer look. In conversation with one of my fellow artists she told me that she thought it was clear that I had arrived; I knew what I was making; I had a great USP and all was going extremely well for me. I was flattered! I puffed myself up and preened my feathers and sat there for a moment basking in the compliment of a fellow artist.
On reflection though I realised how wrong she was. It may be true that I have found a way of working which is new and exciting. I may be making work which really pleases me and which gains a few compliments now and then. But arrived? I don’t think that ever happens does it? In the March/April issue of Ceramic Review There is an interview with David Westcott. He talks about how every firing includes some new tests and describes the opening of the kiln as ‘still like Christmas Day’ because of that feeling of the unknown and the frisson of excitement. Hail David!
I know what my friend meant. She was talking about the fact that I seem to know where I am going and here she does have a point. I do seem to have found an exciting way of expressing my interest in the landscape which is new and different and which I am thoroughly enjoying. On top of which, people appear to like my work, which is always a good thing!
Indeed, when I opened the kiln last night and discovered the first finished piece for my mining project had fired even better than I could have hoped, I did get that lovely sense of having ‘got there’. But it is not so much that I have arrived, more that I now thing I know where I am going. This way of making works for me. However, as the interview with David concludes, ‘If you think you have made the perfect pop, you may as well give up.’
I haven’t! I am not about to! And I am delighted to report that every time I open the kiln is going to feel like Christmas for a very long time to come!